My horse fell on me, violently thrashing, like a turtle stuck on his back. I looked at the silent police officer lying next to me...

At Waffle House there's a chance the cook would ash his dart in the grits.

"You don't have to feign interest in film for me," he said, letting me off the hook. "Oh, thank goodness," I groaned.

Our love story is less a bodice ripper and more of a Spanx peeler.