When I took newroticgirl out for her birthday lunch yesterday there was a might squee of "WHAT'S THAT!?!" when she saw a certain purpley covered book in the backseat.

"That might be a copy of Late Eclipse for your birthday, where I have left it for you to discover."

That was followed by more squeeing as we drove to Red Robin, her scent marking the book, and a bit more squee as we waited for lunch, with a side of squee.