The man smiled a reptilian grin, and spread his arms along the back of the seat.

The star-woman smiled, a grin full of friendship and promise.

Suddenly he smiled, a what-the-hell grin that took thirty years off him.

He smiled, an easy grin on his lean, tanned face.

Certainly he smiled: a grin of amazement and pure pleasure.

He narrowed his eyes, listening, then smiled; a huge grin of a smile.

He smiled, a slow, lazy grin that showed his fangs.

The man smiled, an easy and friendly grin that seemed impossible to simulate.

He smiled a funny little lopsided grin and pulled her closer.

Schmidt looked up from the counter and smiled a wide, porcine grin.