Bearded, bad-boy barber Knox prefers to live his life the way he takes his coffee: Alone. Unless you count his basset hound, Waylon.

Knox doesn’t tolerate drama, even when it comes in the form of a stranded runaway bride.

Dominic was staring at me like he couldn’t decide whether to chop me into pieces or pull my hair and French kiss me.

“Are you calling dibs?”

“She’s a woman, not the last piece of f**king pie. And yes, I’m calling dibs if it keeps your hands off her.”

"Newsflash. You don't buy me, a$#%^*e. You earn me."

You don’t fall for your brother’s high school sweetheart, your boss’s daughter, or your ex-wife’s best friend. Especially when they’re all the same woman.

“Your kids are great,” he said, changing the subject.

“Don’t be sweet. I can’t resist sweet,” Gianna warned him.

“Your kids are monsters, and I hate your face.”

“You were made for me.”

“Shut up, Jax.”

“Why would a professional hockey player fly out here, seduce me, and then vanish again?”

“He’s the kind of man who would talk you into dropping your panties in a coat closet at a party, dole out orgasms like after-dinner mints, and then never call you again.”

If you can’t stand the heat, don’t fall for a firefighter…