Mary stared at Felicity for a long moment, willing that name unsaid. Her cheeks, forehead, even the tips of her ears, were scorching hot, which meant that she was blushing furiously. Her heart kicked wildly against her rib cage. Her throat seemed too small. It was preposterous. A prank. Utterly ridiculous, to think that in a city of a million souls, she should keep crossing paths with this one man. She’d never believe it in fiction.
— The Traitor in the Tunnel (The Agency #3), Y.S. Lee