Brother Cute Quotes

Rick stared at him. "Your brother is an alien." "Yeah, but he's a cute one.

Sometimes it’s not the beginning that screams romance, but rather the journey.

Just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, when you don’t think there’s any way you could climb the mountain again to find happiness, you stumble across a trail, one that has its bumps and bruises, but offers a gorgeous outcome.

Zombies are the middle children of the otherworldly family. Vampires are the oldest brother who gets to have a room in the attic, all tripped out with a disco ball and shag carpet. Werewolves are the youngest, the babies, always getting pinched and told they're cute. With all that attention stolen away from the middle child Zombie, no wonder she shuffles off grumbling, "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.

What can I tell you about the alchemy of twins? Twins are two bodies that dance to each other’s joy. Two minds that drown in each other’s despair. Two spirits that fly with each other’s love. Twins are two separate beings conjoined at the heart!

You might still hate me, you might still not want to look at me, but you’ll damn well know, you fucking crave me.

I've learned over the past years what it really means to be able to miss someone. In order to miss someone, that means you were privileged enough to have them in your life to begin with. And while seventeen years doesn't seem like near enough time to have spent with you over the course of a lifetime, it's still seventeen more years than the people that never knew you at all. So if I look at it that way ... I'm pretty damn lucky. I'm the luckiest brother ever in the whole wide world.

Ooo, a man who knows when he’s wrong. Be still my heart.

You’re so narcissistic.” “Confident,” he replies. “A cockhole.” His brows raise. “What the hell is a cockhole?” “Cocky asshole. Therefore, you’re a cockhole.

Zed and Sky had stayed behind and were chatting with Will, Sky sitting on Zed's knee as if nothing was going to get them apart again in a hurry. Victor and Uriel were playing cards at the kitchen table. Trace looked cute in an apron, chopping vegetables with a surgeon's precision.

She’s not what I was expecting. But she’s everything I fucking want.

As Rachel Green would say, isn’t that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?

I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I need you to be a part of my life, Lottie. I need you to be a permanent fixture. Which is why I came up with this contract.” I

She’s more than a catch, she’s absolute perfection.

Are you saying you don’t approve of my attire?” Trenton began to speak, but I put my finger against his lips. “Aw, that’s cute. You thought I was really asking.

And just like that, I’m a taken man. Fucking besotted. This is what I want. Her, in my arms. Exactly like this.

I am. I’m very much attached to you, Lottie. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m addicted. You’re not going anywhere.

You, uh, you like to choke people?” “No, but there’s something so sexy, so possessive, about being able to hold your girl at the nape of her neck.” “Possessive, are we?” I ask, trying to feel this man out. “I prefer to claim what’s mine.

I’m fucked. They’re immediate with their responses. JP: Let me guess—you realized you like your fake fiancée? Huxley: I like her. I shouldn’t, but I do. JP: Called it.

Your helping heart. You don’t let people see it; you hide it away from the public eye. But as a spectator, having paid close enough attention, I’ve seen it, and it’s beautiful.

Say it right now that you don’t want this and I’ll go back to eating my salad. If not, I’m going to eat you.

I hope you have a sleepless night.” “Sweet nightmares,

What on earth is this?” “An engagement ring,” he says casually. “Uh, this isn’t an engagement ring, this is an ice rink for a family of five.

I want more from you. And I know this crosses the line of our agreement, but I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you, because I do. I like you, Lottie. I like you a lot.

This man really does have a soul. It’s right there, behind the dark chocolate of his hollow eyes.

The door shuts behind us, and I turn to find Huxley bent down on one knee, holding a ring box.

Lottie, I love you. You’re beautifully frustrating, annoyingly right most of the time, and you bring me more joy than I ever thought I’d be lucky enough to have. You complement my surly attitude. You put me in my place when I need it, and you listen to me when I need a listening ear. Plain and simple, you complete me, and I know for certain, I can’t live this life without you in it.” He pops open the ring box, revealing a beautiful, cushion-shaped diamond ring with diamond accents on the band. It’s different than the current ring on my finger, edgier, just like me. “I love you so goddamn much. Please, would you accept the contract, and will you also do me the honor of being my wife?

Need a place to stay? I have a seven-bedroom home. Need a date for your reunion? I’m your man. Need me to make a phone call to this ex-boss of yours, let her know she made a huge mistake by letting you go? I’m there for you. Want a job? I can find you one.

They will, trust me. Anyone who can give me as much shit as you do and bring me to my knees, they’re going to love. I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up wearing Team Lottie T-shirts. Trust me, they’re fans.

Reading for me, was like breathing. It was probably akin to masturbation for my brain. Getting off on the fantasy within the pages of a good novel felt necessary to my survival. If I wasn't asleep, knitting, or working, I was reading. This was for several reasons, all of them focused around the infititely superior and enviable lives of fictional heroines to real-life people. Take romans for instance. Fictional women in romance novels never get their period. They never have morning breath. They orgasm seventeen times a day. And they never seem to have jobs with bosses. These clean, well-satisfied, perm-minty-breathed women have fulfilling careers as florists, bakery owners, hair stylists or some other kind of adorable small business where they decorate all day. If they do have a boss, he's a cool guy (or gal) who's invested in the woman's love life. Or, he's a super hot billionaire trying to get in her pants. My boss cares about two things: Am I on time ? Are all my patients alive and well at the end of my shift? And the mend in the romance novels are too good to be true; but I love it, and I love them. Enter stage right the independently wealthy venture capitalist suffering from the ennui of perfection until a plucky interior decorator enters stage left and shakes up his life and his heart with perky catch phrases and a cute nose that wrinkles when she sneezes. I suck at decorating. The walls of my apartment are bare. I am allergic to most store-bought flowers. If I owned a bakery, I'd be broke and weigh seven hundred pounds, because I love cake.

Screw him and his perfect forearms and cute crooked smile and diva brother. I'm so tired of wanting to shove him into the wall and then shove my hand down his pants.

Name what you want and it’s yours.

Roses are read, violets are blue; I'm using my hand, but I'm thinking of you.

I love you.” The words stun me. They take my breath away. But they also don’t feel entirely real.

Who knew a girl in a blue dress would be your kryptonite?

Somethin’ about the lad draws her to ‘im, just like somethin’ about her draws ‘im to ‘er. You understand?” “No, not at all.” Ryder exhaled. “You say the word ‘him’ and ‘her’ so messed up, do you know that? The letter H is just completely disregarded.

You need to learn to live, man. You’re not living. You have all this money and you do nothing with it. Now you have a reason to do something. Take her out. Date her. If you like her, go for it.

Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, his voice menacing. “I don’t have a wandering eye, never have, never will. And I signed a contract with you. That means I belong to you and you belong to me until our obligations are fulfilled within our agreement. Do you understand?

Now he was gone. She said a silent prayer. Sent it up to heaven. Sam, if you can hear me, I hope you’ve got nice food where you are. Some vegetables like these. They’re meant to be good for you. So eat them all up, like I’m doing. When I die I’ll come and see you, and we’ll be together again. But for now I’m going to think of you safe and happy and playing knights with a friend. Love from Ella. Your sister. P.S. I got a good long turn with Godzilla today after we got here. Godzilla is very happy. P.P.S. I forgot, you never met Godzilla. He is a puppy and is very cute. He belonged to a boy called Joel who got killed by monkeys. I think the monkeys were sick. Monkeys are usually nice. At least in stories. P.P.P.S. Maybe you’ll meet Joel where you are. Say hello. He is nice. P.P.P.P.S. Good night, Sam. The others call you Small Sam. To me you’re just Sam—my brother. I miss you. I wish I was with you.

So when you left Hex Hall after Holly died, that wasn't because you were the grief-stricken fiance. You were going to The Eye." "Yeah. I told them that I thought Elodie and her coven had raised a demon, so we decided I should get close to her,see what was really going on." "And you decided to get really close to her." He laughed softly. "I can't see you, but I have a feeling you're cute when you're jealous,Mercer." Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, "It's not jealousy you're hearing, it's digust. You dated a girl you didn't even like just to get information out of her." His laughter died, and his voice sounded weary when he said, "Trust me, a lot of my brothers have done much worse." There was so much I wanted to ask him, but it's not like we could sit out here all night passing the sharing stick or whatever.Time to cut to the chase. "So did The Eye tell you to get all Mata Hari on me too?

Ian smirks. “Wow. My brother is in love with you.” I can feel Fallon freeze against me. “That’s not awkward at all,” I say sarcastically. Ian shakes his head with a sly grin. “It’s not awkward, Ben. It’s cute. You’re in love.

Bronagh when she entered the room. She placed her hands on her hips and sighed, deeply. “I’m so fat.” She frowned. “It 58/668 took me a whole sixty seconds to get meself off the toilet.” I snickered while Dominic tilted his head to the side. “Fat?” he questioned. “And here I thought you were pregnant. Man, you had me fooled.” Bronagh gave him the finger. “Bite me, Fuckface. You did this to me.

My brother and I both stare unabashedly at her ass. It’s a cute ass. The jeans fit her well. When my cock stiffens in my slacks, I let out a choked sound and quickly retreat. I’m

She’s my person, my best friend, and working with her would be a dream.” She glances at me. “But she can’t afford to hire me, and I need to make money.

It means I like him.” “Wait . . . like . . . you like him, like him?

I never judge. Love is love. Lust is lust. As long as everyone gives consent, let people live.

He might want my body, but he doesn’t want me.

I think today broke her, and that doesn’t settle well with me. I may be a ruthless bastard at times, but this . . . this doesn’t feel right.

And so I thought he was cute. So what? I think Chris Hemsworth is cute. And Ryan Gosling, Tom Hardy, Henry Cavill, Jason Momoa, the Winchester brothers . .

I have my moments,” he mused. “They’re few and far between,” I countered, grinning

this is one of my best concert experiences. And it’s all about the girl in my arms.

I’ve seen him before you two were together and since, and I’m telling you right now, I’ve never seen a man so into a woman as Huxley is into you. He worships you, Lottie.

Ran into her on the sidewalk. She was looking for a rich boyfriend. I happen to be rich. Therefore, it works out perfectly.

Three things I learned while growing up with a strong, independent woman -- you don't lie, you don't cheat, and you always work for what you want.

So you’re her brother?” says Lynn. “I guess we know who got the good genes.” I laugh at the expression on Caleb’s face, his mouth drawn into a slight pucker and his eyes wide.

Kelsey: Oh my God . . . you’re going to be murdered. Lottie: No way. The dude is meeting me at Chipotle. He’s not going to murder me at a place where you have to pay extra for guac.

Lottie, trust me when I say you’re not imposing. I want you in my house, in my room, in my bed. I want you on my couch, holding my hand while watching a show you’ve forced me to reluctantly binge. I want you in my pool, skinny-dipping like you enjoy so much. I want you on my roof, feeling the rain bounce off you during a storm. I want you at my dining room table, eating dinner next to me, giving me a hard time for whatever reason you come up with that day.” He lifts my knuckles to his lips and places a soft kiss to them. “I want you, okay?

I’m saying I want to help you.” How do I make her believe me? “How about this—you pretend to be my fiancée and go to these business events with me, and in return, you can stay at my house—

Without you on this journey I would have fallen apart. You’re my brother, Cassius.” He thinks I speak in hyperbole. “What’s next then, when this journey ends?” he asks. “Cassius. I wasn’t just talking about this trip. By journey, I meant my life.” He looks over at me, touched and more than a bit surprised. “You’re my brother. We let ten years slip past. Ten years we should have fought side by side. I won’t make that mistake again. Whether you like it or not, you’re with me to the end.” A very small “Oh,” is all he can manage. He thinks for a long moment. “I mean that’s a lot of commitment, Darrow.” I knew the sarcasm was coming but I still almost burst a stitch laughing. “Brothers,” he murmurs. “It does feel like it fits. We’ll try it on.

I do what the voices in my underwear tell me to do." Wait, what? "You mean the voices in your head?" Alec smirked. "Yeah, the voices in my head." I furrowed my eyebrows together and stared at him. Why was he smirking at me? He was confusing me. Wait. Voices in his underwear. In his head. The head in his underwear. I gasped. "You dirty bastard!

Request number four—even though the previous contract has been destroyed, Huxley is still indebted to Lottie and therefore will attend any social event to help her stick it to her old boss, but this time, he prefers to act as her real fiancé.

You got all that from how they are looking at each other?” Ryder questioned. I glanced at him. “You didn’t get that from how they’re lookin’ at each other?” He rubbed his temples. “This is a woman thing.” “A woman thing?” “Yeah,” Ryder said. “You all have a sixth sense about shit like this so I’m just rolling with it.” I snorted. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.

The conversation, as usual, switched back to sex. “It’s difficult with you sometimes though, babe,” Dominic said to Bronagh. “I’m constantly torn between wanting to fucking destroy you, but I also want to bring you flowers and chocolates and treat you like a princess.” Bro, TMI! Bronagh didn’t bat an eyelid. “Why not do both?” Sis, TMI! “That right there,” Dominic snapped his fingers, “that’s why I love you

Lottie, she’s . . . hell, she’s fucking special. And I knew that from the first time she turned me down. She was someone in need, yet she only thought about her sister. She didn’t want her parents to be disappointed in her, so she looked out for them too. She fought me on things that deserved fighting me on, and even though I attempted to deny it from the beginning, I don’t think there’s a chance in hell I’ll be able to let her go. And that means one thing: I have to make this work. I want to date Lottie, make her feel special, because that’s what she is—special.

He’s not the only one who’s addicted, because I need this man just as much as he needs me. I need his teasing, his annoying habits, and his ability to rile me up. I need his caring heart, his blessed soul, and his ability to make me feel safe and protected within the comfort of his arms.

Sometimes, just one person is all you need. One person to ignite the flame, because that one person might know five people, and those five people might know five more people, and that’s how a business grows at first, word of mouth. I’m that first person and I know way more than five people.

All of it, done. I’ve got you covered. I’ll help with your sister’s business so you can work for her. You’re going to live with your sister, so that covers housing, we’ll make the perfect plan to stick it to Angela, I’ll easily pay off your student loans, and I know the perfect place to privately lie in the rain.

Please, regale me with my amazing decisions.” Kelsey leans against the counter and taps her chin. “Uh . . . you . . . well, there was the time . . . hmm, oh, what about . . . eh, maybe not that . . .” “Please, keep them coming,” I say dryly. “You’re showering me with all my good decisions. I can barely breathe from all the flattery.

Um, are you writing one of those isekai (Another World) novels? What’s the title?” Yuichi asked. Kanako: “Um, the title is My Demon Lord is Too Cute to Kill and Now the World is in Danger!” Yuichi: "I can’t really imagine what that would entail..." Yuichi felt a little disappointed. He’d been hoping she might have written something a little cuter.

I want to know if you’ve ever been in love. Huxley: Never. No one has even come close to making me feel as though I could spend the rest of my life with them, as if I can’t go another day without laying eyes on them, as if I need them in my arms just to get a solid night’s sleep. I’ve only ever had surface-level relationships with the women I’ve been with.

Oh, she does want something. I can see it in her far-off gaze. It’s wishful, hopeful, something behind those sultry eyes that she truly, truly wants.

Lottie, I know you’re desperate, but we need to be smart-desperate.

When Lottie turns to me, she has the biggest fuck you look on her face. And here I thought I was the cocky one.

But that’s the thing you’re not getting, Kelsey. He reacted without thinking, and his reaction was to not trust me. I was about to tell him that I loved him. That he makes me so incredibly happy and every day I’m grateful to wake up in his arms.” Tears flow down my cheeks. “But to him, I’m something he’s willing to throw away over an assumption. Do you see the problem?

His obvious nervousness at seeing me made me feel less nervous about seeing him, and I was glad for it. “Sorry for just droppin’ in unannounced,”“I said, and gnawed on my lower lip. Ryder shook his head. “No, no, it’s more than fine. It’s great actually. Really, really great.” “Ry,” Alec said, and when I looked at him I saw him trying not to laugh. “You need to calm down.” “Calm? I am calm.” He so wasn’t

I heard Dominic practice Bronagh’s breathing tactics, and I wondered if I’d be taking care of him in the delivery ward as well as her. “I feel like I’m about to pass out.” Yep, I’m definitely going to be looking after him. “Keep breathing, you’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Where’s me sister?” “Why’re you telling Dominic to breathe?’ Ryder murmured. “He’s freakin’ out,” I whispered in response making him snicker.

And for some reason, it hurts. That was the thing that bonded us together. It’s what freed me of my student loans. Is that gone too? It’s what brought me close to Huxley, and he tore it up without a blink of an eye.

What’s our story? How did we meet? How did you propose? How far along am I? Should I be showing? Are we having a boy or a girl? What are the names of the people we’re having dinner with? Why on earth did I sign that GD contract?

Dear . . . God,” she blurted as she recoiled. The hallway beyond was filled with the males of the house, the Brothers and other fighters and Manny sitting on the floor with their backs to the bare walls, their legs stretched out, propped up, crossed at the knees or crossed at the ankles. Apparently there had been quite a bit of drinking going on, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey littered around them, glasses in hands or on thighs. “This is not as pathetic as it looks,” her Butch pointed out. “Liar,” V muttered. “It so fucking is. I think I’m going to start knitting for reals.” As the females emerged with her, each one of them registered shock, disbelief, and then a wry amusement. “Is it me,” one of the males groused, “or did we just perform our own mass castration out here?” “I think that just about sums this shit up,” somebody agreed. “I’m wearing panties under my leathers from now on. Anyone joining me?” “Lassiter already does,” V said as he got to his feet and went to Jane. “Hey.” And then it was group-reunion time. While the other pairs found one another, Butch smiled as Marissa came over to him and put out her hand to help him off the floor. As they embraced, he kissed her on the side of the neck. “Are you out of love with me now?” he murmured. “’ Cuz I’m pussy-whipped?” She leaned back in his arms. “Why? Because you pined after me while I was watching a dirty movie with my girls that wasn’t all that dirty? I think it’s actually— and brace yourself— really pretty cute.” “I’m still all man.” As she rolled her body against him, she let out a mmmm as she felt his erection. “Yes, I can tell.

When I asked you what you’d want if it was a perfect world, you said to work with your sister, move out of your mom’s house, stick it to Angela, erase your student loans, and to have a place where you can lie in the rain without judgment.

I’m just dropping her off.” “Who off?” Ryder questioned. That’s my cue. I stepped into the kitchen with my head held high and when Ryder saw me, he jumped up to his feet and let the cup that was halfway raised to his mouth fall to the floor with surprise. “Shit,” he hissed when the cup smashed to pieces then cleared his throat. “branna I lifted my hand and lightly waved. “Hey, Ry.” “Hi, hey,” he said in rapid succession. “Hello.” “Bro, one greeting is enough,” Alec mumbled

I looked to the sitting room then and gaped at Alec's body lying across my sofa making it look smaller than it was. He was reading something. A book. "What are you readin'?" I curiously asked. "That porn book we were talking about earlier at my house. This dude is my God! He just fucked this Ana chick while she was on her period." "Stop it!" I screeched. "Stop readin' and put the bloody book down!" He was reading Fifty Shades of Grey. I was both horrified and mortified. Alec got up from the sofa, placed the book on the coffee table and turned in my direction. "Why are you blushing?" Him noticing my embarrassment only caused my already red cheeks to heat up even more. "Oh damn, your cheeks are so flushed," Alec said and took a step towards me.

As I look through my box of photos, my eyes well up with tears as I hold in front of me, the one of my brother Spence when he was five years old. He looks so cute in his cowboy outfit, drawing his toy pistols as if he were having a showdown with nasty outlaws.

No one has ever talked to me—argued with me—the way Lottie does. No one has seen me the way she sees me. Sure, my brothers know me for the person I am, but anyone who’s walked into my life sees Huxley Cane, the billionaire, the mogul. They’ve never seen me as Huxley, the man with a heart.

Miles scoffs. "That wasn't a kiss." I immediately regret all those times I told my brother he's an idiot; very clearly he is a true seer with the emotional intelligence of Yoda. "Dude, it's fine," Theo growls. But we're in our own little bubble now. Andrew laughs quietly. "He's right. It wasn't really a kiss." Andrew. Kissed me. On the mouth. I shrug with feigned indifference. Keeping y voice low. "It was fine." "I promise you", he whispers, "my goal for our first kiss was not 'Fine." "Okay, well," I say, my heart showing itself up to my throat. "Try again" He quirks a brow, eyes darting down to my mouth and back up again.

Lottie, I’m sorry.” His voice is tight. “I know what I did last night was inexcusable. I should never have treated you the way I did, and I’m ashamed.” He swallows hard. “I’m just really fucking scared I fucked over my brothers. I took my fears out on you rather than leaning on you.” His thumb brushes over my cheek. “And I’m sorry.” He picks up a bag from his side and sets it closer to me. “I wasn’t sure if you had any clothes or overnight things here, but I thought I’d bring you some of your things.” That’s annoyingly thoughtful. “I have to get to the office to do some damage control, but I wanted to see you first. Can we have dinner tonight?

Do you think I should?” I ask. “Because you sure as hell didn’t make it easy on me last night when you were accusing me of telling Ellie the truth.” “I know, but—” “And do you think it was easy on me, seeing the absolute disdain you had for me?” “No, but—” “And do you think it was easy on me, knowing the man that I trusted, that I was falling for, didn’t trust me to keep him safe with our secret?

Margot shrugged nonchalantly and took a sip of her water. Quinn took a sip of his water, still looking at her over the end of the bottle. She was holding a Nook in her lap, and he looked down at what she was reading. As he started reading a paragraph, he almost choked on his water, slapping a hand over his mouth before he spit it all over the place. Margot looked at him, startled. “Are you alright?” she asked, concerned. Quinn nodded. “Fine,” he wheezed. “What the hell are you reading?” Margot grinned. “It is a romance novel,” she said, completely unashamed. “A romance novel has graphic sex in it?” he asked, bewildered. Margot laughed. “Some of them do.” She shrugged. He frowned. “Why are you reading that?” “It is a good book.” She grinned and wagged her eyebrows at him. Quinn’s lips twitched. Dammit. He didn’t want to laugh, but she was seriously cute when she wagged her eyebrows at him. “Would you like me to read some to you?” she asked in a low sultry voice, while giving him a suggestive little wink. Quinn swallowed hard. “No. That’s okay,” he croaked. If she read that book to him in her sexy French accent, he would be sporting a tent, and he doubted the rest of the people on the plane would appreciate that. “No? The woman in it is very sexy,” Margot purred, giving him a naughty smirk. Quinn narrowed his eyes at her. Was she trying to get him worked up? Well, two could play that game. He leaned in closer to her so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear when he spoke. “Unless you want to take care of the hard-on that I will soon be sporting, I suggest you stop talking about your naughty little book,” he whispered huskily.

Brother Males and Shemales: Are you coming to the Health Bee?  It will be the livest Hop-to-it that this busy lil ole planet has ever see.  And it's going to be Practical.  We'll kiss out on all these glittering generalities and get messages from men as kin talk, so we can lug a think or two (2)home wid us. Luther Botts, the famous community-sing leader, will be there to put Wim an Wigor neverything into the program.  John F. Zeisser, M.A., M.D., nail the rest of the alphabet (part your hair Jack and look cute, the ladies will love you) will unlimber a coupla key-notes.  (On your tootsies, fellers, thar she blows!)  From time to time, if the brakes hold, we will, or shall in the infinitive, hie oursellufs from wherein we are apt to thither, and grab a lunch with Wild Wittles. Do it sound like a good show?  It do!  Barber, you're next.  Let's have those cards saying you're coming. This

Steak is in what we ordered, right? I heard you say steak." Alec looked at me and nodded. "Yeah it's steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and gravy." "Oh thank God," I said and breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know what any of the names meant. I just heard you say steak and got the same." Alec laughed. "You’re so cute." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Every time you call me cute playboy, I will bite you." Alec looked me dead in the eye and said, "You're a cutie-mac-cute face, cutie pie.

Ignoring Lottie entirely, she asks, “Huxley Cane, is that you?” Am I supposed to know her? Because she’s making it seem as if we know each other. I shift in my seat, moving closer to Lottie as my arm slips up to her shoulder rather than resting on her chair. “I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask. Lottie leans in toward me. Her body language is screaming for help. I reassure her with a stroke of my hand over her shoulder. Angela waves her hand and says, “You’re too funny. We met at the Stardom Gala last year. I was the gorgeous goddess in the purple floor-length dress.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Huh,” I say, tilting my head. “Can’t quite place you.

They pulled apart when Keefe shouted, “YOU GUYS HAVE TO SEE THIS!” They ran to the main room and found Keefe standing under the skylight, holding up Mr. Snuggles like it was a baby lion about to be made king. The sparkly red dragon twinkled almost as much as Keefe’s eyes as he said, “I went in to check on our boy and found him cuddling with this!” “Isn’t that the same dragon Fitz brought to your house that one time?” Dex asked Sophie. “WHAT?” Keefe shouted. “YOU KNEW AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!” “Mr. Snuggles wasn’t my secret to share,” Sophie said. “IT’S NAME IS MR. SNUGGLES?! That is . . . . I can’t even . . .” Keefe ran back to Fitz’s room shouting, “ARE YOU MISSING YOUR SNUGGLE BUDDY?!” “Fitz is going to die of embarrassment, you know that, right?” Biana asked. “I didn’t know he had a stuffed dragon,” Della said. “I wonder where he got it.” “Elwin gave it to him when Alden was sick,” Sophie explained. “And Elwin named him.” “Wow, you really know my brother super well, don’t you?” Biana asked. Sophie’s cheeks flushed. “Well . . . we have to do a lot of trust exercises.” Dex sighed. Down the hall, Sophie could hear Keefe laughing hysterically. “I better make sure Fitz is still talking to me,” she said. “You should be worried about me,” Keefe told her, stalking back into the room. “You deprived me of the Snuggles—that cannot be forgiven! Actually it can, but you have to convince Fitz to call himself Lord of the Snuggles from now on.” Sophie laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” Fitz’s door was closed, so she knocked before going in. “I told you, Mr. Snuggles’s visiting hours are over,” he called through the door. “What about your visiting hours?” she asked. “Oh! I thought you were Keefe.” Sophie pushed open the door. “I get that a lot.” “YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY!” Keefe shouted from the main room. Fitz had Mr. Snuggles perched on his lap, and the sparkly dragon looked almost defiant. Like, Yeah, I’m cute and glittery—what’s it to you? “So . . . I guess the secret’s out,” she said. “Looks like it. You’d think almost dying would earn me a little slack.” “NOT WHEN YOU’RE CUDDLING WITH A GLITTERY DRAGON, DUDE!” Keefe shouted.

First, David gets rejected because his older brother still feels rejected. Second, David gets rejected from Saul because David is too small. Third, David gets it from Goliath because he’s just a rosy-cheeked kid. David just can’t win. He gets it from all sides. The first and the last taunts, I think, were the hardest for David to hear. It’s one thing to hear from the king that you’re too small to wear his armor. The king was right. Saul was just trying to help out. But to be slighted by your older brother has got to be difficult. And then to be attacked by an enemy, basically for being too cute to fight, that’s got to be hard to take too. An enemy will come at you with everything he’s got. But why attack someone because they’re too fresh-faced?

Daughter One word but for us it's our entire world the happiest moment of life, when you came I remember the day when we gave you name I heard the word Blessing of God realized, what it is at the time when you were sent to us by God he created you in his special way Puffy cheeks, cute hands, the cutest thing it's your little anger on your sweet Nose and the miracle is, your so innocent eyes but if you know, you are so naughty when with the brother you fight your forehead where God has written all our happiness you are the light in our darkness Your smile is a perfect medicine on wounds Which gives deep relax to heart without a sound Your voice is the best music which echoes in our home in form of a daughter you are the shadow of God in our home We are fortunate we have you I kiss your forehead and wish you my life too Someday if you ask me what is the meaning of happiness to me I will say just one line O Daughter happiness mean to me it's just you, it's just you.

Grom greets him with a smile full of nausea. "I'm not ready for this, little brother," he confesses. "Sure you are," Galen laughs, slapping his brother's back. Grom shakes his head. "It feels like...like I'm betraying her. Nalia." Galen stiffens. Oh. He doesn't feel qualified to talk Grom out of this kind of mood. "I'm sure she would understand," he offers. Grom studies him thoughtfully. "I'd like to think she would. But you didn't know Nalia. She had an amazing temper." He chuckles. "I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her ready to bludgeon me with something for mating with someone else." Galen frowns, unsure of what to say. Grom chuckles. "I'm joking, of course." Then he shrugs. "Well, half joking, anyway. I swear I've been sensing her lately, Galen. It feels so real. It takes all I've got not to follow the pulse. Do you think I'm losing my mind?" Galen shakes his head out of obligation. Secretly though, he thinks he might be. "I'm sure you're just feeling guilty. Er...not that you have a reason to feel guilty. Uh, it's just natural that you feel that way before your mating ceremony. Nerves and all." Galen runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this sort of thing." "What sort of thing? Being mature?" Grom smirks. "Funny." "Maybe you should spend some more time on land, then come back and talk to me. Being on land ages you, you know. Might do you some good." Galen snorts. Now you tell me. "I heard." Out of nowhere, Grom grabs Galen's face and wrestles him into a hold. Galen hates it when he does this. "Let me see that cute little face of yours, minnow. Yep, just like I thought. Your eyes are turning blue. How much time have you been spending on land? Please tell me you're not head over fin for a human?" Then he laughs and releases him just as suddenly. Galen stares at him. "What do you mean?" "I was just teasing, minnow. Giving you a hard time." "I know but...why did you say my eyes are turning blue? What does that have to go with the humans?" Grom waves a dismissive hand at him. "Forget it. I think you might be more uptight than me right now. I said I was just kidding.

When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you'd sent me messages,' I say. 'You seemed surprised I hadn't gotten any. What was in them?' Cardan turns to me, hands clasped behind his back. 'Pleading, mostly. Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.' He's wearing that mocking smile, the one he says comes from nervousness. I close my eyes against frustration great enough to make me scream. 'Stop playing games,' I say. 'You sent me in to exile.' 'Yes,' he says. 'That. I can't stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn't you?' I fold my arms across my chest protectively. 'Of course it was a trick. Wasn't that what you said in return?' ''But that's what you do,' Cardan says. 'You trick people. Nicasia, Madoc, Balekin, Orlagh. Me. I thought you'd admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you'd be angry, of course, but not quite like this.' I stare at him, openmouthed. 'What?' 'Let me remind you that I didn't know you'd murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,' he says. 'My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalised in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over. Think of it: I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.' He pauses. 'Pardoned by the crown. Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen. You could have returned any time you wanted.' Oh. Oh. It wasn't an accident, his choice of words. It wasn't infelicitous. It was deliberate. A riddle made just for me. Maybe I should feel foolish, but instead, I feel furiously angry. I turn away from him and walk, swiftly and completely directionless through the garden. He runs after me, grabbing my arm. I haul around and slap him. It's a stinging blow, smearing the gold of his cheekbone and causing his skin to redden. We stare at each other for long moments, breathing hard. His eyes are bright with something entirely different from anger. I am in over my head. I am drowning.

The only people who ever called me were my dad, my brother, assorted Vaders to tell me to come early or late to work (including Sean, but he always sounded grumpy that he had to call me, so it wasn’t as big a thrill as you’d think), Tammy to tell me to come early or late to tennis practice, and Frances. I glanced at the caller ID screen and clicked the phone on. “What’s up, Fanny?” From the time Mom died until I was eleven, Frances the au pair had hung out in the background of my life. Once Sean overheard someone calling her Fanny, whch apparently is a nickname for Frances. We found this shocking. I mean, who has a nickname that’s a synonym for derriere? Who’s named Frances in the first place? So the boys started calling her Fanny the Nanny. Then, Booty the Babysitter. Then, Butt I Don’t Need a Governess. This had everything to do with the nickname Fanny and the fact that she tried not to get upset at being addressed in this undignified manner when she was trying to raise compassionate, responsible children. It had nothing to do with her having an outsized rumpus. Frances had a cute figure, if you could see it under all that hippie-wear.

Maybe that’s his game, though,” I said. “The hunt for one soul, again and again.” “Then why are you still here?” “The other women lived with him for a long time too. Maybe he wants to wait until my defenses are down, and then-“ “Wow, Clea, you are so jaded. You found your soulmate. People wait their whole lives for this. It’s the most amazing thing in the world, and it’s happened to you. Can’t you just accept it and be happy?” What she said made sense, but… I flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Without looking at Rayna, I said, “He doesn’t act like he’s my soulmate. Sometimes I think maybe he liked the other women more. I think maybe he wishes I was one of them.” Rayna was silent. This was something I’d never heard. “This is seriously, deep,” she finally said. “You’re feeling insecure because you’re jealous…of yourself.” “I didn’t say I was jealous…” “You’d rather think he’s a serial killer than risk being with him and finding out he doesn’t like you as much as he liked…you?” She scrunched her brow and thought, then tried again. “Yous? Anyway, you know what I mean-the other yous.” “Forget the jealousy thing, okay? There are other reasons to doubt him too. Ben doesn’t trust him at all. He thinks Sage is some kind of demon. He said there’s a spirit called an incubus that comes to women in their sleep, and-“ “Of course Ben said that.” Rayna shrugged. “He’s jealous.” “Of what?” “Ben’s crazy in love with you, Clea. I’ve been saying that forever!” “And I’ve been ignoring you forever, because it’s not true. You just want it to be true because it’s romantic.” “Did you not see the pictures of you from Rio?” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?” Rayna pulled out her phone. “Honestly, I don’t know how you survive without Google Alerts on yourself. The paparazzi were out in full force for Carnival.” She played with the phone for a minute, then handed it to me. It showed a close-up of Ben and me at the Sambadrome that could only have been taken with a serious zoom. I felt violated. “I hate this,” I muttered. “Why? You look cute!” “I hate that people are sneaking around taking pictures of me!” “I know you do. Ignore that for the moment. Just scroll through.” There were five pictures of Ben and me. Four of them were moments I vividly remembered, pictures of the two of us facing each other, laughing as we did our best to imitate the dancers shimmying and strutting down the parade route. The fifth one I didn’t remember. I wouldn’t have; in it I had my camera up to my face and was concentrating on lining up the perfect shot. Ben stood behind me, but he wasn’t wearing the goofy smile he’d had in the other pictures. He was staring right at me with those big puppydog eyes, and his smile wasn’t goofy at all, but… “Uh-huh,” Rayna said triumphantly. She had climbed into my bed was looking at the picture over my shoulder. “Knew that one would stop you. There is only one word for the look on that boy’s face, Clea: love-struck. Which is probably why a bunch of websites are reporting he’s about to propose.” “What?” “Messenger. Don’t kill the messenger.” I looked back at the picture. Ben did look love-struck. Very love-struck. “It could just be the picture,” I said. “They caught him at a weird moment.” “Yeah, a weird moment when he thought no one was looking so he showed how he really felt.” I gave Rayna back the phone and shook my head. “Ben and I are like brother and sister. That’s gross.” “Hey, I read Flowers in the Attic. It was kind of hot.” “Shut up!” I laughed. “I’m just saying, think about it. Really think about it. Is it that hard to believe that Ben’s in love with you?

Mom,” Vaughn said. “I’m sure Sidney doesn’t want to be interrogated about her personal life.” Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn—who’d obviously deduced that she’d been burned in the past—was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn’t want him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn’t any better than the damn “Poor Sidney” head-tilt. “It’s okay, I don’t mind answering.” She turned to Kathleen. “I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago.” “So now that you’re single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?” Kathleen pointed. “Could you pass the creamer?” He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother’s questions. She never had been very good at resisting his dares. “Actually, I have a list of things I’m looking for.” Sidney took a sip of her coffee. Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “You have a list?” “Yep.” “Of course you do.” Isabelle looked over, surprised. “You never told me about this.” “What kind of list?” Kathleen asked interestedly. “It’s a test, really,” Sidney said. “A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commitment-phobic guys, the womanizers, and any other bad apples, so a woman can focus on the candidates with more long-term potential.” Vaughn rolled his eyes. “And now I’ve heard it all.” “Where did you find this list?” Simon asked. “Is this something all women know about?” “Why? Worried you won’t pass muster?” Isabelle winked at him. “I did some research,” Sidney said. “Pulled it together after reading several articles online.” “Lists, tests, research, online dating, speed dating—I can’t keep up with all these things you kids are doing,” Adam said, from the head of the table. “Whatever happened to the days when you’d see a girl at a restaurant or a coffee shop and just walk over and say hello?” Vaughn turned to Sidney, his smile devilish. “Yes, whatever happened to those days, Sidney?” She threw him a look. Don’t be cute. “You know what they say—it’s a jungle out there. Nowadays a woman has to make quick decisions about whether a man is up to par.” She shook her head mock reluctantly. “Sadly, some guys just won’t make the cut.” “But all it takes is one,” Isabelle said, with a loving smile at her fiancé. Simon slid his hand across the table, covering hers affectionately. “The right one.” Until he nails his personal trainer. Sidney took another sip of her coffee, holding back the cynical comment. She didn’t want to spoil Isabelle and Simon’s idyllic all-you-need-is-love glow. Vaughn cocked his head, looking at the happy couple. “Aw, aren’t you two just so . . . cheesy.” Kathleen shushed him. “Don’t tease your brother.” “What? Any moment, I’m expecting birds and little woodland animals to come in here and start singing songs about true love, they’re so adorable.” Sidney laughed out loud. Quickly, she bit her lip to cover.

Miraculously, thirty minutes later I found Marlboro Man’s brother’s house. As I pulled up, I saw Marlboro Man’s familiar white pickup parked next to a very large, imposing semi. He and his brother were sitting inside the cab. Looking up and smiling, Marlboro Man motioned for me to join them. I waved, getting out of my car and obnoxiously taking my purse with me. To add insult to injury, I pressed the button on my keyless entry to lock my doors and turn on my car alarm, not realizing how out of place the dreadful chirp! chirp! must have sounded amidst all the bucolic silence. As I made my way toward the monster truck to meet my new love’s only brother, I reflected that not only had I never in my life been inside the cab of a semi, but also I wasn’t sure I’d ever been within a hundred feet of one. My armpits were suddenly clammy and moist, my body trembling nervously at the prospect of not only meeting Tim but also climbing into a vehicle nine times the size of my Toyota Camry, which, at the time, was the largest car I’d ever owned. I was nervous. What would I do in there? Marlboro Man opened the passenger door, and I grabbed the large handlebar on the side of the cab, hoisting myself up onto the spiked metal steps of the semi. “Come on in,” he said as he ushered me into the cab. Tim was in the driver’s seat. “Ree, this is my brother, Tim.” Tim was handsome. Rugged. Slightly dusty, as if he’d just finished working. I could see a slight resemblance to Marlboro Man, a familiar twinkle in his eye. Tim extended his hand, leaving the other on the steering wheel of what I would learn was a brand-spanking-new cattle truck, just hours old. “So, how do you like this vehicle?” Tim asked, smiling widely. He looked like a kid in a candy shop. “It’s nice,” I replied, looking around the cab. There were lots of gauges. Lots of controls. I wanted to crawl into the back and see what the sleeping quarters were like, and whether there was a TV. Or a Jacuzzi. “Want to take it for a spin?” Tim asked. I wanted to appear capable, strong, prepared for anything. “Sure!” I responded, shrugging my shoulders. I got ready to take the wheel. Marlboro Man chuckled, and Tim remained in his seat, saying, “Oh, maybe you’d better not. You might break a fingernail.” I looked down at my fresh manicure. It was nice of him to notice. “Plus,” he continued, “I don’t think you’d be able to shift gears.” Was he making fun of me? My armpits were drenched. Thank God I’d work black that night. After ten more minutes of slightly uncomfortable small talk, Marlboro Man saved my by announcing, “Well, I think we’ll head out, Slim.” “Okay, Slim,” Tim replied. “Nice meeting you, Ree.” He flashed his nice, familiar smile. He was definitely cute. He was definitely Marlboro Man’s brother. But he was nothing like the real thing.