“
One of the most spiritual things you can do is embrace your humanity. Connect with those around you today. Say, "I love you", "I'm sorry", "I appreciate you", "I'm proud of you"...whatever you're feeling. Send random texts, write a cute note, embrace your truth and share it...cause a smile today for someone else...and give plenty of hugs.
”
”
Steve Maraboli
“
You did not just say that. I have a feeling we're on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other.
”
”
Richelle Mead (Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy, #3))
“
Most of all she loved that when she hugged him her head would rest neatly just below his chin, where she could feel his breath lightly blowing her hair and tickling her head.
”
”
Cecelia Ahern (P.S. I Love You (P.S. I Love You, #1))
“
You did not just say that. I have the feeling were on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other." -Christian
"I already have a nickname for you, but I'll get n trouble if I say it in class." - Rose
”
”
Richelle Mead (Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy, #3))
“
When she opened her door, Levi was sitting in the hallway, his legs bent in front of him, hunched forward on his knees. He looked up when she stepped out.
“I’m such an idiot,” he said.
Cath fell between his knees and hugged him.
“I can’t believe I said that,” he said. “I can’t even go nine hours without seeing you.
”
”
Rainbow Rowell (Fangirl)
“
Cute is when your personality shines through your looks. Like, when you see someone's personality in the way they walk and you just feel like hugging them every time you see them.
”
”
Natalie Portman
“
Hugs usually mean more than just a hug.
”
”
Becca Ann (Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend)
“
You’re cute when you’re nervous.” Will came to a stop, and Nico reached out to bring him into a hug.
”
”
Rick Riordan (The Sun and the Star: A Nico di Angelo Adventure (Camp Half-Blood Chronicles, #17))
“
You are a white. The Imperial Wizard. Now, if you don't think this is logic you can burn me on the fiery cross. This is the logic: You have the choice of spending fifteen years married to a woman, a black woman or a white woman. Fifteen years kissing and hugging and sleeping real close on hot nights. With a black, black woman or a white, white woman. The white woman is Kate Smith. And the black woman is Lena Horne. So you're not concerned with black or white anymore, are you? You are concerned with how cute or how pretty. Then let's really get basic and persecute ugly people!
”
”
Lenny Bruce
“
Oh, precious losing streak,
you're too cute for your own good.
I try to laugh about it
but my face is made of wood.
”
”
Casey Renee Kiser (Gutter Kisses and a Hug on Garbage Day)
“
I would love to say that I wrote (Good Will Hunting). Here is the truth. In my obit it will say that I wrote it. People don't want to think those two cute guys wrote it. What happened was, they had the script. It was their script. They gave it to Rob [Reiner] to read, and there was a great deal of stuff in the script dealing with the F.B.I. trying to use Matt Damon for spy work because he was so brilliant in math. Rob said, "Get rid of it." They then sent them in to see me for a day - I met with them in New York - and all I said to them was, "Rob's right. Get rid of the F.B.I. stuff. Go with the family, go with Boston, go with all that wonderful stuff." And they did. I think people refuse to admit it because their careers have been so far from writing, and I think it's too bad. I'll tell you who wrote a marvelous script once, Sylvester Stallone. Rocky's a marvelous script. God, read it, it's wonderful. It's just got marvelous stuff. And then he stopped suddenly because it's easier being a movie star and making all that money than going in your pit and writing a script. But I did not write [Good Will Hunting], alas. I would not have written the "It's not your fault" scene. I'm going to assume that 148 percent of the people in this room have seen a therapist. I certainly have, for a long time. Hollywood always has this idea that it's this shrink with only one patient. I mean, that scene with Robin Williams gushing and Matt Damon and they're hugging, "It's not your fault, it's not your fault." I thought, Oh God, Freud is so agonized over this scene. But Hollywood tends to do that with therapists.
(from 2003 WGA seminar)
”
”
William Goldman
“
BE REAL
Bring it on-
And let truth be my existence.
Value my life-
And tell me like it is.
Bark at me when I'm wrong-
And hug me when I'm right.
Praise me if I succeed-
And tell me if I fail.
Laugh at me if you think I'm funny-
And wink at me if you think I'm cute.
Yell at me if I ever hurt you-
And scold me if I'm ever bad.
Keep things real with me,
Because I want to be alive,
I want my world to be real-
And I want to see your spirit.
I want to hear you breathe-
And I want to know how you feel.
Don’t waste my time with insincerities.
Keep my world real.
”
”
Giorge Leedy (Uninhibited From Lust To Love)
“
I dunno." She sat on the bench and hugged the robe like a pillow. "I still think that Brett guy is cute."
"Good luck getting him away from Bekka." Cleo gathered her silky black hair into a high pony and pink-dabbed Smith's Rosebud Salve on her lips. "She's got more grip than Crazy Glue."
"More cling than Saran Wrap," Lala added.
"More hold than Final Net." Cleo giggled.
"More possession than The Exorcist," Lala managed.
"More clench than butt cheeks," Blue chimed in.
"More competition than American Idol," Frankie stuck out her chest and showed them her diva booty roll.
The girls burst out laughing.
"Nice!" Blue lifted her purple gloved hand.
Frankie slapped it without a single spark.
"I hate to be a downer..." Claudine shuffled back into the conversation wearing her slippers and robe. "But that girl will destroy you if she catches you with Brett."
"I'm not worried," Frankie tossed her hair back. "I've seen all the teen movies, and the nice girl gets the boy in the end.
”
”
Lisi Harrison (Monster High (Monster High, #1))
“
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did. And now Bram had two sets of black eyes glaring at him.
Finally, he said out loud, “It’s not me! I swear!” Rhiannon laughed and leaned back from Bram.
“So cute! Isn’t he cute, Bercelak?”
“No.”
“Bercelak’s only teasing.”
“No, I’m not.
”
”
G.A. Aiken (Supernatural (Lords of Deliverance, #1.5; Demonica, #6.5; Guardians of Eternity, #7.6; Nightwalkers, #1.5; Dragon Kin, #0.4))
“
He shakes his head. "They're hunting the Enkis. I know that. And I get that. But . . . we're special."
"The reason they want them is because they're special. Anchovies aren't going to cure anyone."
"That's not the special I mean." He catches another fish and hugs it to his chest.
I'm trying to be gentle. "They're only special to you because they're yours."
"I could say the same thing about that cute kid you were holding."
Well, shit.
”
”
Hannah Moskowitz (Teeth)
“
Deryn put her own arms around herself, but it didn't feel the same.
"Barking spiders," she muttered softly,
”
”
Scott Westerfeld (Leviathan (Leviathan, #1))
“
I reached for his other hand, which he quickly accepted and I pulled him up into a hug. I didn't know what the other kids in the room were thinking or saying or doing. And I didn't care. I had Jamie in my arms, and that was all the mattered.
”
”
Madison Parker (Sock it to Me, Santa!)
“
You did not just say that. I have a feeling we’re on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other.” He was trying to look disgusted at my sentiment, but I could tell he liked being told that Lissa cared about him.
”
”
Richelle Mead (Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy, #3))
“
Dex and Keefe, meanwhile, were having a VERY difficult time figuring out how to sit on their eckodon. After several hilarious attempts, they settled for Keefe facing backwards with his arms wrapped around Dex, and Dex reaching around Keefe to hug the eckodon's neck.
"You guys look so cute," Fitz told them.
"Dude, your payback is going to be legendary," Keefe warned.
”
”
Shannon Messenger (Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4))
“
Don’t be afraid to fixed your sister crown ,
With a #complement
If she cute tell her
If her car stop help her
If she hurting hug her
”
”
Shaneika Marie
“
A minute ago you told me that you thought I was cute.”
“Yeah,” Leo said. “I mean, I do think that. But you’re not my girlfriend. You’re my person.”
I knew right away what he meant.
I thought he was cute and he thought I was cute but it was different than it was when people have crushes.
With Leo I’d fallen into another kind of like. I couldn’t wait to tell him stuff and I loved hearing him laugh at my jokes and I loved laughing at his jokes. He made me feel like I had a spot in the world.
It felt as if Leo and I could like each other all our lives.
So I hugged him.
He was my person too.
”
”
Ally Condie (Summerlost)
“
while my dad fielded feedback—complaints, really—that he’d then pass on to the elected alderman who controlled the ward. When somebody had problems with garbage pickup or snow plowing or was irritated by a pothole, my dad was there to listen. His purpose was to help people feel cared for by the Democrats—and to vote accordingly when elections rolled around. To my dismay, he never rushed anyone along. Time, as far as my father was concerned, was a gift you gave to other people. He clucked approvingly at pictures of cute grandkids, patiently endured gossip and long litanies of health woes, and nodded knowingly at stories about how money was tight. He hugged the old ladies as we finally left their houses, assuring them he’d do his best to be useful—to get the fixable issues fixed.
”
”
Michelle Obama (Becoming)
“
Hey,' he said, touching my waist. 'Hey. It's okay.' I nodded and wiped my face with the back of my hand. 'He sucks.' I nodded again. 'I'll write you an epilogue,' Gus said. That made me cry harder. 'I will,' he said. 'I will. Better than any sh*t that drunk could write. His brain is Swiss cheese. He doesn't even remember writing the book. I can write ten times the story that guy can. There will be blood and guts and sacrifice. An Imperial Affliction meets The Prince of Dawn. You'll love it.' I kept nodding, faking a smile, and then he hugged me, his strong arms pulling me into his muscular chest, and I sogged up his polo shirt a little but then recovered enough to speak.
”
”
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
“
You need to eat more." (...)
"Then I'd get fat, and you wouldn't like me."
Johnny tweaked her nose in teasing response and shifted her into a more comfortable position with her back against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and his arms hugged her waist before they were settled to his satisfaction. Rachel, spellbound, cast a sideways glance up and back to find that his eyes on her face were as bright and hot as the clear August sky overhead.
"You still don't get it, do you, teacher? I'd like you any way I could get you, any way at all. Besides, I bet you'd be cute fat. A little round dumpling.
”
”
Karen Robards (One Summer)
“
Thank you,” she repeated, wishing he didn’t feel so tense in her arms. “I mean it, Keefe. I don’t know if I’d be able to get through this without you.” “Yes you could,” he argued, finally relaxing as he leaned into the hug to whisper, “You’re Lady Foster. The Dire Wolf of Team Fancypants. And I gotta say, you look awfully cute in a crown.
”
”
Shannon Messenger (Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8))
“
He hugs me again. 'So long as when we're alone, I want you to be you".
I melt against him. "Deal".
”
”
Josephine Angelini (Scions (Starcrossed, #4))
“
Her rage flopped awkwardly away like a duck. She felt as she had when her cold, fierce parents had at last grown sick and old, stick-boned and saggy, protected by infirmity the way cuteness protected a baby, or should, it should protect a baby, and she had been left with her rage--vestigial, girlhood rage--inappropriate and intact. She would hug her parents good-bye, the gentle, emptied sacks of them, and think Where did you go?
”
”
Lorrie Moore
“
Everyone's here except for St. Clair." Meredith cranes her neck around the cafeteria. "He's usually running late."
"Always," Josh corrects. "Always running late."
I clear my throat. "I think I met him last night. In the hallway."
"Good hair and an English accent?" Meredith asks.
"Um.Yeah.I guess." I try to keep my voice casual.
Josh smirks. "Everyone's in luuurve with St. Clair."
"Oh,shut up," Meredith says.
"I'm not." Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.
He lets go of her hand and gives an exaggerated sigh. "Well,I am. I'm asking him to prom. This is our year, I just know it."
"This school has a prom?" I ask.
"God no," Rashmi says. "Yeah,Josh. You and St. Clair would look really cute in matching tuxes."
"Tails." The English accent makes Meredith and me jump in our seats. Hallway boy. Beautiful boy. His hair is damp from the rain. "I insist the tuxes have tails, or I'm giving your corsage to Steve Carver instead."
"St. Clair!" Josh springs from his seat, and they give each other the classic two-thumps-on-the-back guy hug.
"No kiss? I'm crushed,mate."
"Thought it might miff the ol' ball and chain. She doesn't know about us yet."
"Whatever," Rashi says,but she's smiling now. It's a good look for her. She should utilize the corners of her mouth more often.
Beautiful Hallway Boy (Am I supposed to call him Etienne or St. Clair?) drops his bag and slides into the remaining seat between Rashmi and me. "Anna." He's surprised to see me,and I'm startled,too. He remembers me.
"Nice umbrella.Could've used that this morning." He shakes a hand through his hair, and a drop lands on my bare arm. Words fail me. Unfortunately, my stomach speaks for itself. His eyes pop at the rumble,and I'm alarmed by how big and brown they are. As if he needed any further weapons against the female race.
Josh must be right. Every girl in school must be in love with him.
"Sounds terrible.You ought to feed that thing. Unless..." He pretends to examine me, then comes in close with a whisper. "Unless you're one of those girls who never eats. Can't tolerate that, I'm afraid. Have to give you a lifetime table ban."
I'm determined to speak rationally in his presence. "I'm not sure how to order."
"Easy," Josh says. "Stand in line. Tell them what you want.Accept delicious goodies. And then give them your meal card and two pints of blood."
"I heard they raised it to three pints this year," Rashmi says.
"Bone marrow," Beautiful Hallway Boy says. "Or your left earlobe."
"I meant the menu,thank you very much." I gesture to the chalkboard above one of the chefs. An exquisite cursive hand has written out the morning's menu in pink and yellow and white.In French. "Not exactly my first language."
"You don't speak French?" Meredith asks.
"I've taken Spanish for three years. It's not like I ever thought I'd be moving to Paris."
"It's okay," Meredith says quickly. "A lot of people here don't speak French."
"But most of them do," Josh adds.
"But most of them not very well." Rashmi looks pointedly at him.
"You'll learn the lanaguage of food first. The language of love." Josh rubs his belly like a shiny Buddha. "Oeuf. Egg. Pomme. Apple. Lapin. Rabbit."
"Not funny." Rashmi punches him in the arm. "No wonder Isis bites you. Jerk."
I glance at the chalkboard again. It's still in French. "And, um, until then?"
"Right." Beautiful Hallway Boy pushes back his chair. "Come along, then. I haven't eaten either." I can't help but notice several girls gaping at him as we wind our way through the crowd.
”
”
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
“
I reached for his other hand, which he quickly accepted and I pulled him up into a hug. I didn't know what the other kids in the room were thinking or saying or doing. And I didn't care. I had Jamie in my arms, and that was all the mattered.
”
”
Madison Parker
“
Wow.” She reached for a black pillow decorated with a big sparkly skull and hugged it. “So romantic.”
I made a face, because who the hell wanted to be a romantic? Then I couldn’t look past the skull pillow. “Tell me something, sis. Why do we have to make skulls cute? Some things shouldn’t be messed with. Guns, for example. Toilets … toilet paper … guns … They should just stay functional. Sparkle-free.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. If I had a bedazzled toilet, I’d love it and so would you. Don’t even try to deny it. You’d love a fancy can.”
I did deny it, which led to a healthy debate.
”
”
Veronica Rossi (Riders (Riders, #1))
“
Aisling tumbled out, his gold eyes going wild about the room to take in all of them. His beak clicked as he worked it in silence. Then, as the breaking of ice may bring a cascade of water from winter’s falls, the griffin’s voice—no longer that small shrill copy of Taryn’s, but his own true voice—poured plaintively from him. “Mom!”
Taryn jerked around, her mouth dropping open.
Aisling bounded toward her and she swept him up into a tight embrace. He clutched at her shoulders with his talons, burying his head under her chin, and cried, “Mom! Yoo…rrrrr…oh…kay!”
“Great gods,” Antilles heard himself say and he shot Tonka a startled glance. “He cannot be speaking?!”
The horseman merely smiled. “And why not?” he murmured, resettling himself on his padded bolster. “For has he not been a miracle from the very first?”
“You’re talking,” Taryn cried, true delight painting itself over the grief that had seemed to mask her since the dawning of this terrible day. She was radiant once more, burning with a joy and a healing light all its own as she hugged her griffin close. “Oh, my fierce prince! My big boy!”
“Yoo…rrrr…Ai-sing,” whispered the griffin. His raptor’s eyes flicked to Antilles and his naked wings fluttered. “Tilly. Yoo…rrrr…sun-shy?”
Taryn giggled, her face pressed to fur.
“Aye, lad,” Antilles said, tossing his broken horn. “My sun and my moon and all my starry skies.
”
”
R. Lee Smith (The Wizard in the Woods (Lords of Arcadia, #2))
“
CLEA!" she screamed, and threw herself into my arms. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but I didn't care. I hugged her fiercely in return. She pulled away and saw Sage, and her eyes went completely round.
"Is this the trouble you're in?" she asked, looking him up and down. "I so approve."
"Rayna, this is Sage. Sage, Rayna."
"Pleased to meet you," Sage said, offering his hand.
"The pleasure is all mine," Rayna purred. "Unless, of course, it's all Clea's, which is even better."
Sage smiled and might have even blushed a bit, which was highly entertaining.
Before leading us to the car, Rayna insisted I take her heavy winter coat. It was thirty-four degrees outside, and I was still wearing my little black sundress. Of course, Rayna herself was wearing a lacy push-up camisole. She took Sage's arm "to keep her steady on the ice," though I think her main goal was to see if his arm was as muscular as it looked. By the openmouthed gape she shot me after her first squeeze, it was.
"They'd make a cute couple," Ben said, nodding to Sage and Rayna. "Don't you think?"
I settled for a noncommittal "Hmm."
In the car, I slipped into the front seat beside Rayna. With only her eyes, she asked me if Sage was mine. With a scrunch of my nose and a shrug, I explained it was complicated. She nodded-she understood-then gave an eye roll that clearly said I was insane if I did anything but jump at the chance to be with him. The whole conversation took about a second.
”
”
Hilary Duff (Elixir (Elixir, #1))
“
a cute girl. And her body… I take the hand suffering from exposure and it’s still very cold. I touch her cheek with the back of my other hand and it’s warm. She leans into that like she’s starving for a gentle gesture. It makes me close my eyes for a minute. She’s so needy. It would be easy to just take care of that need. Instead, I kick off my boots and take my shirt off, then place her hand under my armpit. She tries to pull away but I hold her still and smile. “It’s a nice warm place, Syd. You have to heat up this hand. I’m pretty sure it’s gonna blister no matter what, but it needs to be warmed up.” “It’s gross,” she says. “I can do it—” “No,” I tell her back, sitting down on the bed and pulling on her at the same time, so she can’t remove it. “I’ll do it.” I scoot all the way back on the half-moon-shaped bed, which takes up roughly one half of the circular room, making her crawl along with me. Her tits are nice and firm, and hang down and bounce a little in a very alluring way. I keep pulling her until she’s sitting next to me, her frozen hand slipping out of place. So I put my arm around her and place her hand under my opposite arm, making her hug me a little. She stiffens when I do this and that makes me laugh a little. “You afraid of intimacy, Sydney? Tough girl like you?” “You’re tricking me somehow, I can feel it.” But even as she says this, she rests her head on my chest. “Probably. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t give anything away for free. So now that I’m taking care of your mistake out there, let’s talk about that deal. I went above and beyond. I didn’t let you freeze, I came out of my nice warm house to save your ass. So the way I see it, you owe me. Start
”
”
J.A. Huss (Meet Me in the Dark)
“
Scared?”
Terrified. “Of you? Nah. If you grow claws, I might get my sword, but I’ve fought you in your human shape.” It took all my will to shrug. “You aren’t that impressive.”
He cleared the distance between us in a single leap. I barely had time to jump to my feet. Steel fingers grasped my left wrist. His left arm clasped my waist. I fought, but he outmuscled me with ridiculous ease, pulling me close as if to tango.
“Curran! Let . . . “
I recognized the angle of his hip but I could do nothing about it. He pulled me forward and flipped me in a classic hip-toss throw. Textbook perfect. I flew through the air, guided by his hands, and landed on my back. The air burst from my lungs in a startled gasp. Ow.
“Impressed yet?” he asked with a big smile.
Playing. He was playing. Not a real fight. He could’ve slammed me down hard enough to break my neck. Instead he had held me to the end, to make sure I landed right.
He leaned forward a little. “Big bad merc, down with a basic hip toss. In your place I’d be blushing.”
I gasped, trying to draw air into my lungs.
“I could kill you right now. It wouldn’t take much. I think I’m actually embarrassed on your behalf. At least do some magic or something.”
As you wish. I gasped and spat my new power word. “Osanda.” Kneel, Your Majesty.
He grunted like a man trying to lift a crushing weight that fell on his shoulders. His face shook with strain. Ha-ha. He wasn’t the only one who got a boost from a flare.
I got up to my feet with some leisure. Curran stood locked, the muscles of his legs bulging his sweatpants. He didn’t kneel. He wouldn’t kneel. I hit him with a power word in the middle of a bloody flare and it didn’t work. When he snapped out of it, he would probably kill me.
All sorts of alarms blared in my head. My good sense screamed, Get out of the room, stupid! Instead I stepped close to him and whispered in his ear, “Still not impressed.”
His eyebrows came together, as a grimace claimed his face. He strained, the muscles on his hard frame trembling with effort. With a guttural sigh, he straightened.
I beat a hasty retreat to the rear of the room, passing Slayer on the way. I wanted to swipe it so bad, my palm itched. But the rules of the game were clear: no claws, no saber. The second I picked up the sword, I’d have signed my own death warrant.
He squared his shoulders. “Shall we continue?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He started toward me. I waited, light on my feet, ready to leap aside. He was stronger than a pair of oxen, and he’d try to grapple. If he got ahold of me, it would be over. If all else failed, I could always try the window. A forty-foot drop was a small price to pay to get away from him.
Curran grabbed at me. I twisted past him and kicked his knee from the side. It was a good solid kick; I’d turned into it. It would’ve broken the leg of any normal human.
“Cute,” Curran said, grabbed my arm, and casually threw me across the room. I went airborne for a second, fell, rolled, and came to my feet to be greeted by Curran’s smug face. “You’re fun to play with. You make a good mouse.”
Mouse?
“I was always kind of partial to toy mice.” He smiled. “Sometimes they’re filled with catnip. It’s a nice bonus.”
“I’m not filled with catnip.”
“Let’s find out.”
He squared his shoulders and headed in my direction. Houston, we have a problem. Judging by the look in his eyes, a kick to the face simply wouldn’t faze him.
“I can stop you with one word,” I said.
He swiped me into a bear hug and I got an intimate insight into how a nut feels just before the nutcracker crushes it to pieces. “Do,” he said.
“Wedding.”
All humor fled his eyes. He let go and just like that, the game was over.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Magic Burns (Kate Daniels, #2))
“
Legs? Check. I am five foot seven, after all. They’re slender but not too skinny. I run every morning, so my legs have always been slightly muscled, but in a feminine way — at least I hope they look feminine; bulky is not a word I’d want someone to use. I think the not too short, but short enough to still be very stylish, pleated and thickly cuffed navy blue shorts show my legs off nicely. My cork and white wedges with a cute little bow at each ankle are the perfect finishing touch. A simple dove-gray ribbed tank completes the outfit and hugs my curves. Maybe there is something to Mel’s theory after all. My golden-blonde hair is sun-kissed in the summer, and its soft waves cascade to the middle of my back. I usually have it up, but tonight Melanie insisted that I leave it down and wavy. I let her play Barbie, and I can’t say I hate it. The real show-stopper, though, is my eyes. They’re a bright, vibrant green. They look almost fake, but as I lean into the mirror to get a closer look, I catch small little flecks of gold around the outside that I know no contact lens could replicate. I have always loved my eyes. I have my mother’s eyes. I’ve seen them in the few pictures I have from my childhood. Even if my eyes were the murkiest, dingiest, dullest brown, I still would have loved them, as long as they were my mother’s. It’s really the only thing I have left of her. I gave in on the hair and let Melanie have a field day, but I insisted on keeping my makeup simple — a soft pale pink blush, clear lip gloss, and a light dusting of gold eye shadow is all I need. A quick swipe of some mascara, and the look is complete.
”
”
Melissa Collins (Let Love In (Love, #1))
“
Finally, when everything I was going to carry was in the place that I needed to carry it, a hush came over me. I was ready to begin. I put on my watch, looped my sunglasses around my neck by their pink neoprene holder, donned my hat, and looked at my pack. It was at once enormous and compact, mildly adorable and intimidatingly self-contained. It had an animate quality; in its company, I didn’t feel entirely alone. Standing, it came up to my waist. I gripped it and bent to lift it. It wouldn’t budge. I squatted and grasped its frame more robustly and tried to lift it again. Again it did not move. Not even an inch. I tried to lift it with both hands, with my legs braced beneath me, while attempting to wrap it in a bear hug, with all of my breath and my might and my will, with everything in me. And still it would not come. It was exactly like attempting to lift a Volkswagen Beetle. It looked so cute, so ready to be lifted—and yet it was impossible to do.
”
”
Cheryl Strayed (Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail)
“
Early in the boob-emerging years, I had no boobs, and I was touchy about it. Remember in middle school algebra class, you’d type 55378008 on your calculator, turn it upside down, and hand it to the flat-chested girl across the aisle? I was that girl, you bi-yotch. I would have died twice if any of the boys had mentioned my booblets.
Last year, I thought my boobs had progressed quite nicely. And I progressed from the one-piece into a tankini. But I wasn’t quite ready for any more exposure. I didn’t want the boys to treat me like a girl.
Now I did. So today I’d worn a cute little bikini. Over that, I still wore Adam’s cutoff jeans. Amazingly, they looked sexy, riding low on my hips, when I traded the football T-shirt for a pink tank that ended above my belly button and hugged my figure. I even had a little cleavage. I was so proud. Sean was going to love it.
Mrs. Vader stared at my chest, perplexed. Finally she said, “Oh, I get it. You’re trying to look hot.”
“Thank you!” Mission accomplished.
“Here’s a hint. Close your legs.”
I snapped my thighs together on the stool. People always scolded me for sitting like a boy. Then I slid off the stool and stomped to the door in a huff. “Where do you want me?”
She’d turned back to the computer. “You’ve got gas.”
Oh, goody. I headed out the office door, toward the front dock to man the gas pumps. This meant at some point during the day, one of the boys would look around the marina office and ask, “Who has gas?” and another boy would answer, “Lori has gas.” If I were really lucky, Sean would be in on the joke.
The office door squeaked open behind me. “Lori,” Mrs. Vader called. “Did you want to talk?”
Noooooooo. Nothing like that. I’d only gone into her office and tried to start a conversation. Mrs. Vader had three sons. She didn’t know how to talk to a girl. My mother had died in a boating accident alone on the lake when I was four. I didn’t know how to talk to a woman. Any convo between Mrs. Vader and me was doomed from the start.
“No, why?” I asked without turning around. I’d been galloping down the wooden steps, but now I stepped very carefully, looking down, as if I needed to examine every footfall so I wouldn’t trip.
“Watch out around the boys,” she warned me.
I raised my hand and wiggled my fingers, toodle-dee-doo, dismissing her. Those boys were harmless. Those boys had better watch out for me.
”
”
Jennifer Echols (Endless Summer (The Boys Next Door, #1-2))
“
I stopped struggling, going limp in his arms. He reached around us and shoved the door closed, spinning around and facing us toward the kitchen.
“I was trying to make you breakfast.”
It took a moment for his words and their meaning to sink in. I stared dumbfounded across the room and past the island. There was smoke billowing up from the stove and the window above the sink was wide open.
Bowls and spoons littered the island and there was a carton of eggs sitting out.
He was trying to cook.
He was really bad at it.
I started to laugh.
The kind of laugh that shook my shoulders and bubbled up hysterically. My heart rate was still out of control, and I took in a few breaths between laughs to try and calm it down.
He said something, but I couldn’t hear him because the fire alarm was still going off. I had no doubt half the neighborhood was now awake from the sound. He didn’t bother to put me down, instead hauling me along with him, where he finally set me down, dragged a chair over near the alarm, and climbed up to remove the battery.
The noise cut off and the kitchen fell silent.
“Well, shit,” he said, staring at the battery in his hand.
A giggle escaped me. “Does this always happen when you cook?”
He shrugged. “The only time I ever cook is when it’s my turn at the station.” His forehead creased and a thoughtful look came over his face. “The guys are never around when it’s my night to cook. Now I know why.” He snagged a towel off the counter and began waving away the rest of the lingering smoke.
I clicked on the vent fan above the stove. There was a pan with half a melted spatula, something that may or may not have once been eggs, and a muffin tin with half-burned, half-raw muffins (how was that even possible?).
“Well, this looks…” My words faltered, trying to come up with something positive to say.
“Completely inedible?” he finished.
I grinned. “You did all this for me?”
“I figured after a week of hospital food, you might like something good. Apparently you aren’t going to find that here.”
I had the urge to hug him. I kept my feet planted where they were. “Thank you. No one’s ever ruined a pan for me before.”
He grinned. “I have cereal. Even I can’t mess that up.”
I watched as he pulled down a bowl and poured me some, adding milk. He looked so cute when he handed me the bowl that I lifted the spoon and took a bite. “Best cereal I ever had.”
“Damn straight.”
I carried it over to the counter and sat down. “After we eat, would you mind taking me to my car? I hope it’s still drivable.”
“What about the keys?”
“I have a security deposit box at the bank. I keep my spare there in case I ever need them.”
“Pretty smart.”
“I have a few good ideas now and then.”
“Contrary to the way it looks, I do too.”
“Thank you for trying to make me breakfast. And for the cereal.”
He walked over to the stove and picked up the ruined pan. “You died with honor,” he said, giving it a mock salute. And then he threw the entire thing into the trashcan.
I laughed. “You could have washed it, you know.”
He made a face. “No. Then I might be tempted to use it again.
”
”
Cambria Hebert (Torch (Take It Off, #1))
“
I’ve been so mean to my body, outright hateful. I disparage her and call her names, I loathe parts of her and withhold care. I insist on physical standards she can never reach, for that is not how she is even made, but I detest her weakness for not pulling it off. I deny her things she loves depending on the current fad: bread, cheddar cheese, orange juice, baked potatoes. I push her too hard and refuse her enough rest. No matter what she accomplishes, I’m never happy with her. I’ve barely acknowledged her role in every precious experience of my life. I look at her with contempt. And yet every morning, no matter how terrible I have been to her, she gets us out of bed, nurtures the family, meets the needs of the day. She tells me when I am hungry or tired and sends special red-alert signals when I am overwhelmed or scared. She has safely gotten me to and from a thousand cities with fresh energy. She flushes with red wine, which she loves, which is pretty cute. She walked the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, the red dirt of Uganda, the steep opulence of Santorini, the ruins of Pompeii. She senses danger, trouble, land mines; she is never wrong. Every single time, she tells me when not to say something. She has cooked ten thousand meals. She prays without being told to; sometimes I realize she is whispering to God for us. She walks and cooks and lifts and hugs and types and drives and cleans and holds babies and rests and laughs and does everything in her power to live another meaningful, connected day on this earth. She sure does love me and my life and family. Maybe it is time to stop hating her and just love her back.
”
”
Jen Hatmaker (Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire: The Guide to Being Glorious You)
“
Mindy runs to the DVD player and delicately places the disk in the holder and presses play. “Will you sit in this chair, please, Princess Mindy?” I ask, bowing deeply at the waist.
Mindy giggles as she replies, ”I guess so.”
After Mindy sits down, I take a wide-tooth comb and start gently combing out her tangles.
Mindy starts vibrating with excitement as she blurts, “Mr. Jeff, you’re gonna fix my hair fancy, ain’t you?”
“We’ll see if a certain Princess can hold still long enough for me to finish,” I tease. Immediately, Mindy becomes as still as a stone statue. After a couple of minutes, I have to say, “Mindy, sweetheart, it’s okay to breathe. I just can’t have you bouncing, because I’m afraid it will cause me to pull your hair.”
Mindy slumps down in her chair just slightly. “Okay Mr. Jeff, I was ascared you was gonna stop,” she whispers, her chin quivering.
I adopt a very fake, very over-the-top French accent and say, “Oh no, Monsieur Jeff must complete Princess Mindy’s look to make the Kingdom happy.
Mindy erupts with the first belly laugh I’ve heard all day as she responds, “Okay, I’ll try to be still, but it’s hard ‘cause I have the wiggles real bad.”
I pat her on the shoulder and chuckle as I say, “Just try your best, sweetheart. That’s all anyone can ask.”
Kiera comes screeching around the corner in a blur, plunks her purse on the table, and says breathlessly, “Geez-O-Pete, I can’t believe I’m late for the makeover. I love makeovers.” Kiera digs through her purse and produces two bottles of nail polish and nail kit. “It’s time for your mani/pedi ma’am. Would you prefer Pink Pearl or Frosted Creamsicle?
Mindy raises her hand like a schoolchild and Kiera calls on her like a pupil, “I want Frosted Cream toes please,” Mindy answers.
“Your wish is my command, my dear,” Kiera responds with a grin. For the next few minutes, Mindy gets the spa treatment of her life as I carefully French braid her hair into pigtails. As a special treat, I purchased some ribbons from the gift shop and I’m weaving them into her hair. I tuck a yellow rose behind her ear.
I don my French accent as I declare, “Monsieur Jeffery pronounces Princess Mindy finished and fit to rule the kingdom.”
Kiera hands Mindy a new tube of grape ChapStick from her purse, “Hold on, a true princess never reigns with chapped lips,” she says.
Mindy giggles as she responds, “You’re silly, Miss Kiera. Nobody in my kingdom is going to care if my lips are shiny.”
Kiera’s laugh sounds like wind chimes as she covers her face with her hands as she confesses, “Okay, you busted me. I just like to use it because it tastes yummy.”
“Okay, I want some, please,” Mindy decides. Kiera is putting the last minute touches on her as Mindy is scrambling to stand on Kiera’s thighs so she can get a better look in the mirror. When I reach out to steady her, she grabs my hand in a death grip. I glance down at her. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is opening and closing like a fish. I shoot Kiera a worried glance, but she merely shrugs.
“Holy Sh — !” Mindy stops short when she sees Kiera’s expression. “Mr. Jeff is an angel for reals because he turned me into one. Look at my hair Miss Kiera, there are magic ribbons in it! I’m perfect. I can be anything I want to be.”
Spontaneously, we all join together in a group hug. I kiss the top of her head as I agree, “Yes, Mindy, you are amazing and the sky is the limit for you.
”
”
Mary Crawford (Until the Stars Fall from the Sky (Hidden Beauty #1))
“
I’d known him just ten days, and it had just left his mouth in an unexpected whisper. It had been purely instinctive, it seemed--something entirely unplanned. He clearly hadn’t planned to say those words to me that night; that wasn’t the way he operated. He was a man who had a thought and acted on it immediately, as evidenced by his sweet, whispery phone calls right after our dates. He spent no time at all calculating moves; he had better things to do with his time. When we held each other on that chilly spring night and his feelings had come rushing to the surface, he’d felt no need to slap a filter over his mouth. It had come out in a breath: I love you. It was as if he had to say it, in the same way air has to escape a person’s longs. It was involuntary. Necessary. Natural.
But as beautiful and warm a moment as it was, I froze on the spot. Once I realized it had been real--that he’d actually said the words--it seemed too late to respond; the window had closed, the shutters had clapped shut. I responded in the only way my cowardice would allow: by holding him tighter, burying my face deeper into his neck, feeling equal parts stupid and awkward. What is your problem? I asked myself. I was in the midst of what was possibly the most romantic, emotionally charged moment of my life, in the embrace of a man who embodied not only everything I’d ever understood about the textbook definition of lust, but everything I’d ever dreamed about in a man. He was a specimen--tall, strong, masculine, quiet. But it was much more than that. He was honest. Real. And affectionate and accessible, quite unlike J and most of the men I’d casually dated since I’d returned home from Los Angeles months earlier. I was in a foreign land. I didn’t know what to do.
I love you. He’d said it. And I knew his words had been sincere. I knew, because I felt it, too, even though I couldn’t say it. Marlboro Man continued to hold me tightly on that patio chair, undeterred by my silence, likely resting easily in the knowledge that at least he’d been able to say what he felt.
“I’d better go home,” I whispered, suddenly feeling pulled away by some imaginary force. Marlboro Man nodded, helping me to my feet. Holding hands, we walked around his house to my car, where we stopped for a final hug and a kiss or two. Or eight. “Thanks for having me over,” I managed.
Man, I was smooth.
“Any time,” he replied, locking his arms around my waist during the final kiss. This was the stuff that dreams were made of. I was glad my eyes were closed, because they were rolled all the way into the back of my head. It wouldn’t have been an attractive sight.
He opened the door to my car, and I climbed inside. As I backed out of his driveway, he walked toward his front door and turned around, giving me his characteristic wave in his characteristic Wranglers. Driving away, I felt strange, flushed, tingly. Burdened. Confused. Tortured. Thirty minutes into my drive home, he called. I’d almost grown to need it.
“Hey,” he said. His voice. Help me.
“Oh, hi,” I replied, pretending to be surprised. Even though I wasn’t.
“Hey, I…,” Marlboro Man began. “I really don’t want you to go.”
I giggled. How cute. “Well…I’m already halfway home!” I replied, a playful lilt to my voice.
A long pause followed.
Then, his voice serious, he continued, “That’s not what I’m talking about.
”
”
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
“
On any other woman, the blue strapless party dress would have been elegant, and maybe scandalous with its plummeting neckline showing off oodles and oodles—and oodles and oodles and oodles dear Jesus those things are fantastic—of cleavage. On her, it looked cute. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sexy—she was sexy as hell—it was just that the golden curls, big eyes, and peach lipstick made her so adorably squishy that all he wanted to do was hug her.
”
”
Thea de Salle (The King of Bourbon Street (NOLA Nights #1))
“
Blair was home when Kylie arrived the next night, and as soon as the doctor walked into the house, Blair called out, “Get changed! I brought carryouts for dinner. We’re gonna spend the whole night talking about the dangerous world of lesbianism.” “I have a feeling that someone’s not taking my concerns very seriously,” Kylie said when she walked into the kitchen. Blair gave her a hug and said, “I take you and your concerns very seriously. But I’m confident that I’ve thought of the repercussions, and I know that once I convince you of that, we’re gonna be fine.” She gave her a dazzling smile and said, “Is it okay if I’m happy about that?” “I suppose so,” Kylie said, trying but failing to look aggrieved. She wrapped her arms around Blair and playfully tossed her back and forth. “You’re so darned cute that I can barely stand it!” “Oh, you haven’t seen half of it. Just you wait. I’ll confound you with cuteness.
”
”
Susan X. Meagher (All That Matters)
“
Makes it that much more fun, especially when at night, she curls into me for a hug and presses those sweet lips on mine. Makes it all worth it, because I know my girl loves me. Truly loves me.” And the Oscar goes to . . .
”
”
Meghan Quinn (A Not So Meet Cute (Cane Brothers, #1))
“
You're not my girlfriend. You're my person."
I knew right away what he meant.
I thought he was cute and he though ti was cute but was different than it was when people have crushes.
With Leo I'd fallen into another kind of like. I couldn't wait to tell him stuff and I loved hearing him laugh at my jokes and I loved laughing at his jokes. He made me feel like I had a spot in the world.
It felt as if Leo and I could like each other all our lives.
So I hugged him.
He was my person too.
”
”
Ally Condie (Summerlost)
“
I weave through LA's famous Farmers Market, which is really more of an outdoor food court, and now I'm a few minutes late. And the place is packed and there's still the uncertainty about where to meet when I look down and realize I'm wearing yellow pants. Yellow pants. Really? Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking. They're rolled at the cuff and paired with a navy polo and it looks like maybe I just yacht my yacht, and I'm certain to come off as an asshole.
I thin about canceling, or at least delaying so I can go home and change, but the effort that would require is unappealing, and this date is mostly for distraction. And when I round the last stall--someone selling enormous eggplants, more round than oblong, I see him, casually leaning against a wall, and something inside my body says there you are.
'There you are.'
I don't understand them, these words, because they seem too deep and too soulful to attach to the Farmers Market, this Starbucks or that, a frozen yogurt place, or confusion over where to meet a stranger. They're straining to define a feeling of stunning comfort that drips over me, as if a water balloon burst over my head on the hottest of summer days. My knees don't buckle, my heart doesn't skip, but I'm awash in the warmth of a valium-like hug. Except I haven't taken a Valium. Not since the night of Lily's death. Yet here is this warm hug that makes me feel safe with this person, this Byron the maybe-poet, and I want it to stop. This--whatever this feeling is--can't be a real feeling, this can't be a tangible connection. This is just a man leaning against a stall that sells giant eggplants. But I no longer have time to worry about what this feeling is, whether I should or shouldn't be her, or should or should't be wearing yellow pants, because there are only maybe three perfect seconds where I see him and he has yet to spot me. Three perfect seconds to enjoy the calm that has so long eluded me.
'There you are.'
And then he casually lifts his head and turns my way and uses one foot to push himself off the wall he is leaning agains. We lock eyes and he smiles with recognition and there's a disarming kindness to his face and suddenly I'm standing in front of him.
'There you are.' It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it and it's all I can do to steer the words in a more playfully casual direction so he isn't saddled with the importance I've placed on them. I think it comes off okay, but, as I know from my time at sea, sometimes big ships turn slowly.
Byron chuckles and gives a little pump of his fist. 'YES! IT'S! ALL! HAPPENING! FOR! US!'
I want to stop in my tracks, but I'm already leaning in for a hug, and he comes the rest of the way, and the warm embrace of seeing him standing there is now an actual embrace, and it is no less sincere. He must feel me gripping him tightly, because he asks, 'Is everything okay?'
No. 'Yes, everything is great, it's just...' I play it back in my head what he said, the way in which he said it, and the enthusiasm which only a month had gone silent.
'You reminded me of someone is all.'
'Hopefully in a good way.'
I smile but it takes just a minute to speak. 'In the best possible way.'
I don't break the hug first, but maybe at the same time, this is a step. jenny will be proud. I look in his eyes, which I expect to be brown like Lily's but instead are deep blue like the waters lapping calmly against the outboard sides of 'Fishful Thinking.'
'Is frozen yogurt okay?'
'Frozen yogurt is perfect.
”
”
Steven Rowley (Lily and the Octopus)
“
My dad steals a kiss from my mom as he passes her on the stage, and it’s like my life has come full circle. I’ve always wanted the kind of love my parents have. I’ve watched them my whole life, seen every cute hug on the beach, every glance across the room, every butt tap from my dad when she bent over to empty the dishwasher, every time they took care of each other, the times they chose to forgive, and the times they chose to be there for each other no matter what.
”
”
Kortney Keisel (Summer Ever After (Falling for Summer))
“
A small grin peeks through her gloom. “You’re going to drive five miles just to give me a hug?”
“I’d run five miles just to give you a hug.
”
”
Colleen Hoover (It Starts with Us (It Ends with Us, #2))
“
And you’re cute when you get all flustered.” She narrowed her eyes at him and put one hand on her hip. “I have no idea how Louise allowed you to survive childhood.” “It’s because I’m younger and he was always bigger.” Louise came around the side of the truck. “We’re going to borrow your four-wheeler, if you don’t mind.” “Of course.” It wasn’t really hers. Not like she paid for it or anything. But Palmer always referred to it as hers, and so did Louise. And like just now, Louise asked before she hopped on it. “Hi, Tella,” Ames said when she saw Tella’s head poke around the pickup. Even though they were baling hay, Tella still wore the hockey jersey she loved. “Hi, Aunt Ames.” “Okay, Tella. Let’s run down to the house, so we can get back and work a little longer.” “Can I drive?” Louise looked back at Ames with raised brows. “Sure, if your mom says it’s okay.” Tella grinned. “It should be. She let me drive Uncle Palmer’s pickup out here.” “By yourself?” Tella nodded. “Wow. Make sure you wear your seatbelt just in case the wheels fall off.” “Hey.” Palmer put on a mock-hurt expression and wrapped an arm around Ames’s head like he was going to put her in a headlock. “That wasn’t nice. I don’t say mean things like that about your car.” The four-wheeler started, and the motor faded slowly into the distance. Palmer’s arm loosened and dropped to her shoulders. The weight of it there felt good and right. She straightened in his embrace. Maybe they’d never bale hay together again. She looked up into his clear, blue eyes. Eyes that held no guile. Just genuine honesty. And admiration. “You’re beautiful. With or without sunburned cheeks.” His arm tightened. What had simply been his arm around her shoulder became Palmer hugging her. Still maybe in line with friendship, but so close to more. She wanted more. But she wanted his friendship, too. Could she have both? Their kiss hadn’t made anything awkward. She tossed her head, moving closer until they were touching. “That
”
”
Jessie Gussman (Cowboys Don't Marry Their Best Friend (Sweet Water Ranch #1))
“
I angled my head and gave Lucca a death glare. “How?” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I looked for you this time.” “Why?” He opened his mouth but then closed it. “To give you this.” He grabbed something off the dresser and came closer. I blinked at the stuffed toy and my annoyance melted away. Clearing my throat, I sat up and reached for it. “A plushy?” “They’re called Squishmallows. My baby sister wanted one that just came out, so I went to get it for her. I saw this guy and thought of you.” I tried to smother a smile but failed. It was clearly not just that since he gave me a bear one. “You’re not a polar bear.” “No, but it’s still a brother bear,” he muttered. “He can keep you company since we don’t like you always alone.” “We?” “Well, everyone who cares, but I meant me and my bear.” I nodded and hugged the little guy. “So soft!” I gasped at how nice it was, rubbing my cheek against it. “Oh my gods, I love him.” A giggle actually slipped out as I curled up around the bear. “I knew it,” he breathed, flinching when I glanced up at him so he knew I heard him. “Knew what?” “You’ve never had a stuffed animal or anything before, have you, Tams?” It was my turn to flinch. I sat up and moved the bear to my lap, unable to stop playing with it even as I tried to be serious. “Um, no.” I went to sit him next to me. “Thanks. I can give it to one of the fairy kids. I’m an adult.” “Bullshit,” he growled, grabbing it and plopping it back on my lap. “You’re not a hundred or something, Tams. And even if you were, so what? I mean, so what? They’re for fun and cute. They help stress and provide comfort. Why should that only be for kids?” “Yeah?” I smiled when he nodded and pulled the bear closer to me. I let out a squeal and hugged the soft ball of cute. “This is like the best present ever. He’s so cute.” I beamed up at Lucca. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” he chuckled. “Don’t be mad at me for trying to find you. You blocked everyone and people were freaking.
”
”
Erin R. Flynn (Adjusting Course (Artemis University, #15))
“
Michael came over and wrapped me in a hug, and I let my hands slide around his shoulders. Oh my God, oh my God! My stomach went wild as I felt his fingers on my back, and I realized that we could very well be having our meet-cute.
”
”
Lynn Painter (Better Than the Movies (Better than the Movies, #1))
“
How are you feeling? Do you want to hug my leg and suck on my dick for a while longer?” That usually helps her when she’s feeling anxious. I’m obsessed with how cute she looks when she’s using me as a pacifier.
”
”
Lilith Vincent (Fear Me, Love Me)
“
Dex and Keefe, meanwhile, were having a very difficult time figuring out how to sit on their eckodon. After several hilarious attempts, they settled for Keefe facing backward with his arms wrapped around Dex, and Dex reaching around Keefe to hug the eckodon’s neck. “You guys look so cute,” Fitz told them. “Dude, your payback is going to be legendary,” Keefe warned.
”
”
Shannon Messenger (Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4))
“
We were watching videos at night on her Samsung tablet or my company iPad. She showed me the Silvano Agosti 1983 Italian interview with a little Italian boy called “D'Amore si vive, We Live of Love.” The boy was so cute, and his thoughts seemed similar to mine and Martina's. I was so deeply in love with her. The boy on the interview was just like what our own child would be, and we agreed and laughed. “We Live of Love.” What a coincidence! Living. By: Love. I knew the interview from before and she was surprised at how I knew about it. I showed her on my Instagram a picture of the boy I had recently taken a screenshot of and posted. With the subtitle at the right moment under his face: “Descubrir a la vida.” To discover life. Together. With his one and only girlfriend, as the boy explains.
I told her multiple times that I was still unsure if she was real, or if it was all a dream; if I had only dreamed of her one night in the dark; if Pinto and I had invented her in my mind.
She was a big fan of space, but I thought she liked the mystery behind the endless space with all its questions and secrets for us humans. I thought she liked the sky and space because she recently flew from Argentina to land in my arms.
Martina and I were obsessed with Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy; we both knew all their stand-up comedies by heart. We kept replaying the best moments or faces that Chris or Eddie made. We had so much fun watching the same videos over and over that I couldn't believe it. Nobody else ever found the same moments or the same stand-ups as funny as Martina and I did. Nobody before or after found it so amusing. If I showed it to someone, they didn't understand why I was so excited about it or why racist jokes were so funny for an hour from one black comedian to the next. We were obsessed the way Eddie spoke about the „Zebra-Bitch of her dreams, her dream-wife who doesn’t know the concept of money”, saying “she should have an afro, like Angela Davis goes 'God damn it.'“ We were laughing so much. Sometimes I tickled her flat belly or her ribs and she was laughing so sweetly and so much that she couldn't stop. She was begging me to stop tickling her when I barely touched her. She said “No, no, no, no” so many times so quickly and cutely that I had to stop and kiss her; I couldn't resist her lips or her person, I had to kiss and hug her.
We laughed so much at particular parts of Chris Rock's stand-up comedies that we could barely stop, almost as if we were tickling each other. We were laughing when Chris Rock was mocking Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony for singing ‘Welfare chariots’ such as „The First of the Month” or when he explained that the government hates rappers, but „only the good rappers get gunned down. They could find Saddam Hussein in a cave in Iraq but couldn't arrest anyone related to Tupac Shakur’s assassination, which didn't happen in a cave in Iraq but in Las Vegas, on the Strip, not one of those side streets, but in front of Circus Circus, after a Mike Tyson fight. Now how many witnesses do you need, to arrest somebody?”
We were fascinated with Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, and Chris Rock, but when I showed her Richard Prior, Doug Stanhope, Aries Spears, or George Carlin, she was no longer so impressed for some reason.
Her favorite part perhaps was when Chris Rock talked about love and relationships. He said that „you never really been in love unless you have contemplated murder; unless you have practiced your alibi in front of the mirror, staring at a can of rat poison for 45 minutes straight, you haven't been in love. And the only thing preventing you from killing your significant other was an episode of CSI.” He said that relationships are hard and that in order for them to work, both people need to have the same focus, which is all about: her.
”
”
Tomas Adam Nyapi
“
We were watching videos at night on her Samsung tablet or my company iPad. She showed me the Silvano Agosti 1983 Italian interview with a little Italian boy called “D'Amore si vive, We Live of Love.” The boy was so cute, and his thoughts seemed similar to mine and Martina's. I was so deeply in love with her. The boy on the interview was just like what our own child would be, and we agreed and laughed. “We Live of Love.” What a coincidence! Living. By: Love. I knew the interview from before and she was surprised at how I knew about it. I showed her on my Instagram a picture of the boy I had recently taken a screenshot of and posted. With the subtitle at the right moment under his face: “Descubrir a la vida.” To discover life. Together. With his one and only girlfriend, as the boy explains.
I told her multiple times that I was still unsure if she was real, or if it was all a dream; if I had only dreamed of her one night in the dark; if Pinto and I had invented her in my mind.
She was a big fan of space, but I thought she liked the mystery behind the endless space with all its questions and secrets for us humans. I thought she liked the sky and space because she recently flew from Argentina to land in my arms.
Martina and I were obsessed with Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy; we both knew all their stand-up comedies by heart. We kept replaying the best moments or faces that Chris or Eddie made. We had so much fun watching the same videos over and over that I couldn't believe it. Nobody else ever found the same moments or the same stand-ups as funny as Martina and I did. Nobody before or after found it so amusing. If I showed it to someone, they didn't understand why I was so excited about it or why racist jokes were so funny for an hour from one black comedian to the next. We were obsessed the way Eddie spoke about the „Zebra-Bitch of his dreams, his dream-wife who doesn’t know the concept of money”, saying “she should have an afro, like Angela Davis goes 'God damn it.'“ We were laughing so much. Sometimes I tickled her flat belly or her ribs and she was laughing so sweetly and so much that she couldn't stop. She was begging me to stop tickling her when I barely touched her. She said “No, no, no, no” so many times so quickly and cutely that I had to stop and kiss her; I couldn't resist her lips or her person, I had to kiss and hug her.
We laughed so much at particular parts of Chris Rock's stand-up comedies that we could barely stop, almost as if we were tickling each other. We were laughing when Chris Rock was mocking Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony for singing ‘Welfare chariots’ such as „The First of the Month” or when he explained that the government hates rappers, but „only the good rappers get gunned down. They could find Saddam Hussein in a cave in Iraq but couldn't arrest anyone related to Tupac Shakur’s assassination, which didn't happen in a cave in Iraq but in Las Vegas, on the Strip, not one of those side streets, but in front of Circus Circus, after a Mike Tyson fight. Now how many witnesses do you need, to arrest somebody?”
We were fascinated with Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, and Chris Rock, but when I showed her Richard Prior, Doug Stanhope, Aries Spears, or George Carlin, she was no longer so impressed for some reason.
Her favorite part perhaps was when Chris Rock talked about love and relationships. He said that „you never really been in love unless you have contemplated murder; unless you have practiced your alibi in front of the mirror, staring at a can of rat poison for 45 minutes straight, you haven't been in love. And the only thing preventing you from killing your significant other was an episode of CSI.” He said that relationships are hard and that in order for them to work, both people need to have the same focus, which is all about: her.
”
”
Tomas Adam Nyapi (BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA)
“
The tiny Fireball was like a mother’s embrace, a kiss from a soulmate, the hug of a daughter never born, a dream pined for an eternity, finally realised.
”
”
Sameer Kochure (The Tiny Fireball: A Novel)
“
Wilby had a problem. He didn’t know which brand of toothpaste to buy. He decided to try this new opposing viewpoints idea he’d been reading about in The Fallacy Detective. He decided to go around and ask different people what they thought. Wendy, a store assistant who offered to help: This type with oxy-white pro is guaranteed to make your teeth whiter in twenty-four hours. (Wilby noticed that toothpaste brands with the oxy-white pro sticker were twice the price of other brands.) Phoebe, a friend of Wilby’s: Wilby, I think you’d have such a cute smile if you got rid of some of those blueberry Popsicle stains on your teeth. Judd, another friend: Toothpaste? What’s that? Real men don’t brush their teeth. Wilby’s Mom: Wilby, it really doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t buy anything that contains fluoride additives. You might come down with a terrible disease in a few years if you use fluoride. Austin, Wilby’s coworker: I only use Hug-A-Tree brand. It’s made by an environmentally conscious company from Denmark. They promise they don’t test their product on whales. Bob, who works out at the health club with Wilby: I heard on a talk show that if you chew organic mint leaves, then your breath will smell good without having to brush your teeth. Wilby concluded that he was worrying too much over nothing. He decided to keep using the brand of toothpaste he’d always used. It seemed to do the job. But now he understood more about how different people make their decisions.
”
”
Nathaniel Bluedorn (The Fallacy Detective: Thirty-Eight Lessons on How to Recognize Bad Reasoning)
“
stomach—which is where the stupid baby is. “I don’t think I’m going to like this dumb baby,” I said. Mother stopped hugging me. “Don’t say that, Junie B. Of course you will,” she said. “Of course I won’t,” I talked back. “Because it won’t even let me hug you very good. And anyway, I don’t even know its stupid dumb name.” Then Mother sat down in the new rocking chair. And she tried to put me on her lap. Only I wouldn’t fit. So she just holded my hand. “That’s because Daddy and I haven’t picked a name for the baby yet,” she explained. “We want a name that’s a little bit different. You know, something cute like Junie B. Jones. A name that people will remember.” And so I thought and thought very hard. And then I clapped my hands together real loud. “Hey! I know one!” I said very excited. “It’s the cafeteria lady at my school. And her name is Mrs. Gutzman!” Mother frowned a little bit. And so maybe she didn’t hear me, I think. “MRS. GUTZMAN!” I hollered. “That’s a cute name, don’t you think? And I remembered it, too! Even after I only heard it one time, Mrs. Gutzman sticked right in my head!” Mother took a big breath. “Yes, honey. But I’m not sure that Mrs. Gutzman is a good name for a tiny baby.” And so then I scrunched my face up. And I thought and thought all over again. “How ’bout Teeny?” I said. “Teeny would be good.” Mother smiled. “Well, Teeny might be cute while the baby was little. But what would we call him when he grows up?” “Big Teeny!” I called out very happy. Then Mother said, “We’ll see.” Which means no Big Teeny. After that, I didn’t feel so happy anymore. “When’s this dumb bunny baby getting here
”
”
Barbara Park (Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business (Junie B. Jones, #2))
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Dex and Keefe, meanwhile, were having a very difficult time figuring out how to sit on their eckodon. After several hilarious attempts, they settled for Keefe facing backward with his arms wrapped around Dex, and Dex reaching around Keefe to hug the eckodon’s neck. “You guys look so cute,” Fitz told them.
”
”
Shannon Messenger (Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4))
“
I jolted out of my sleep or so I thought with tunneling sparking flashing light. For a second when I look around the room everything seems soft, unclear, and slightly distorted, I am in my bed naked like I am every day when I get up and hug my stuffed bunny for the last time, as I snap on the lamp on my nightstand. I have to hide my bunny when the girls come over. Ray used to just throw him off the bed onto the floor.
That was not cool! I don’t think Marcel would mind my cuddly stuffed bunny, with the cute floppy ears. My alarm has been blaring and Beep- Beeping for five minutes. It's from seven-o to six am. I smash and rub my face in my soft pillow for the last time. I look around the room I am sweating. I wipe my forehead, saying wow, I have had a dream that I’m falling- but never like this. ‘Damn that was a crazy dream!’ So- I start my morning retain- you know grabbing for what inside my Pringles can buy my bed before all hell comes busting through my door.
I sit up in bed slightly and I turn on my laptop, might as well live record what going to do on cam, why not. So, push the quilt away, I look down at my unclothed body with my toy in hand, and I see my toes wiggling with nail polish, and my almost smooth legs and everything in-between.
Thinking I just shaved and looked at all this stubble, growing here already… don’t you hate that, I sure do? It’s like all you can see and feel. Now I’m covered with sweat even though my room is frigid cold. My throat is dry, my heart is racing, and I’m desperate for a drink, yet I am almost there, my sighing is getting loud, I can feel it building up, I can stop it feeling so good and the tips are just rolling in for the boys that tune into my show.
The camera is right there, whoosh- and I feel on top of the world. Yet after I hit a low with having to start my day, running away from me away from who I am, I’ve just been running a long way. My floral sheets are stocked with everything rushing out, and so is my keyboard, yet the boys love it and love me for it, so that is good enough for me. Yet after I do that it’s like I get an embarrassing feeling, I pull it out, then close the lid of my lap, to cover up fast. It’s like I get a rush from it, and then the guilt comes after in my mind saying- ‘That was the wrong missy, yet I can’t stop. Jenny and my girls give me that same rush, always doing something that feels so good yet maybe wrong.
”
”
Marcel Ray Duriez (Nevaeh Dreaming of you Play with Me)
“
My day just splits again, and I am at the table sitting with the girls, Jenny is hearing me say all this… I am saying at lunch to all of them not leaving out one gross detail- and Jenny said- ‘Damn I have loaded in my undies right now just leasing to this crap.’ Liv and Maddie are kissing like to ribbed- hot- b*tch dogs in heat over it, so yeah, it's hot. I said- ‘I am coming – OH-hh-Aaa- UM-mmm-COME-meeting!!!’ So loud that I know that the rooms in the apartments could hear me, one even said back to my god- yet Miss Wilddickersion is eighty-eight I know who you are… a girl over there, rolled my eyes feeling so award.’
I am so going to hell for this- I said out loud. Do you ever look back over the crap you say, and say what the freak was I thinking? I just had the thought of this crap I am saying. Jenny said- nope not really- my dad hears me coming all the time so- like last night he said- ‘Stop it! You’re going to go throw your bedroom floor girl, and it’s four in the morning!
‘Yet I hear their freaking headboard hitting my wall- but- but that’s okay?’ I said about to have the old b*tch over in the next apart room there getting off too- ‘We all do’ -said Maddie and Olivia. Have you ever had the cops come, over that crap? Jenny said- ‘Well- freak know- Maybe…? I’ve done an officer here at the school, said Jenny proudly, so the whole cafeteria could hear her. Hey- Jenny- no one cares to hear about you being a slutty ho,’ Said- Marcel, yelling it at a table or two away. Maddie- ‘So was it that good?’ ‘It’s good under the hood.’ Said Maddie, I said the same thing too, in a different way, I said- ‘If you know what you’re doing down there.’ Jenny- ‘I- am- the- one that showed you-you b*tch, and your sis too.’
It’s all good! I speak! Not sure if I am going to keep my nasty pizza down at this point really, I don’t want to have thoughts played around in my mind freaking and fingering my brain. I put my feet up all girly and per-die on the table, and he sits accused from me to check me out so why not give him what he wants, and I don’t give a crap if I am in a skirt, I spread them out sloughing like a dude, and Marcel turns bright red, I want him to see that, I was not wearing annoying underneath I know that someone took a picture of my p*ssy and all of his freaked-up face- yep jaw-dropping moments, good thing I shaved it!
The teaching that was looking over us freaking fainted at the sight of my va-jay-jay, is that a good thing? Oliva was saying please don’t fart- please don’t fart- she had the set on the other side of me, yet she was all pressed up to Maddie, so I knew he could see all of this- YOU-NO! I said- ‘Dude shut up! You’re freaking me over, and I put my one hand down between my legs, and start to play with myself, caressing it all around, sometimes up and down or in a little circular pattern, making lots of sounds. I even put my long fingers down inside and feel all the wetness and wroth, and I hear voices coming out of me, so he could see the come on my fingers unstop of my dark purple nail polish, and I come right in front of everyone, but it was only for him to see.’ Jenny- ‘do I see a d*ick; you need one to freak that p*ssy? I said- ‘Nah- dude that’s just my heart throbbing clit, and I get written up by another old b*tch teach, that must have a hairy one, or something like that- she has always been up against my ass hole.’
‘Sometimes you are as blunt as the butt end of a fork, freaking strapping you in the one boob!’ said- Oliva. I see Marcel in the lunch line making a cute almost kiss-ie face at me, and I rankle up my nose and turn my head off to the right side and shake it in a short fast yet deliberate quiver.
I walk up to where more than friends and at this point, I hug him and the cafeteria gaps, he kisses me in front of everyone, and I look up before walking and saying with flirty eyes- (You’re such a weirdo!)
”
”
Marcel Ray Duriez (Nevaeh Dreaming of you Play with Me)
“
Love is what I had
(I was ten)
Holy, mother of god, we are in the shower together he bubbled up yet not covered up, and back down will it around until I would come, I got some just call me, he was just enjoying me being cute, he washed my hair and played with my body, like my boobs feeling the and rubbing, suck, and kissing them, flicking with his fingers and others, HOT steamy water pouring on our head, as we were hugging it out, and do it all. Rubbing my legs and crap- I say freak, yeah, but I don’t swear like that!
I fasten the garter around his hip's legs side to side around his hips, and as I am arching my back to slip the silk stocking off my toes, I unclasped my bar for him to see them fall, as we go to bed for the night, we were body unstop of body, and we even had our toes laced, together on one foot, like our hands. I have to bite my lip to stop my impatient moan from escaping, yet it all comes out of me. Scorching flush rivalries over my skin, my face hot and red that down there pink feeling has a handprint on my body.
My figure is shaking with shock at the news of us doing this tonight at this age. A baby they say I show them? No freaking way, no way should I be doing this yet they will never- ever no, NO WAY!!! Unserviceable my awareness is tiresome to grasp this staggering bit of data. Of why… Like a small child gets out and the woman is here to say, I’m downhearted, helplessly trying to fit everything together in my mind, like I should some time you have to say what the hell and go with it and piss on them.
My inner goddess is quickly losing my virginity, the light in the room fading recklessly as I see it all there looking at it deeply, but I can’t settle on that now. I am not sure we're ready for all of this just yet. Gritty again I feel as I work my way in, I scan the room for anything I might have elapsed to say when my eyes fall on my ribbons on the wall. I would say anything to make him think about not going in so fast, yet I want it all. The blinking to every downward moment, seeing it all so fast, what to do, it was hard, not slow and good, I don’t remember it all.
”
”
Marcel Ray Duriez (Nevaeh A Void She Cannot Feel)
“
He gave Carter’s shoulders another squeeze to reassure him that he had his back. Well, and also because hugging Carter was like eating a Lay’s potato chip—physically impossible to stop at just one.
”
”
Stella Starling (The Boyfriend Game (#boyfriendsbybLoved, #1))
“
Aisha ran to Codex and hugged him. “Good to see you too,” Codex said. “Do you really think I’m cute?” Codex flushed red. “I mean, I guess.” “Why didn’t you say something?” “I just thought it might be weird.” Aisha laughed. “Weirder than a madman reading me your innermost thoughts from the pages of a book made from your own body?” Codex smiled. “I guess not.
”
”
Dr. Block (Firestorm (Tales of the Glitch Guardians #3))
“
One of the most spiritual things you can do is embrace your humanity. Connect with those around you today. ... Send random texts, write a cute note, embrace your truth and share it, cause a smile today for someone else, and give plenty of hugs.
”
”
Steve Maraboli
“
LIFE
Opinions are always challenged
The great ocean of society with literature from all over the world, still brings us the challenge of where did we come from, how long has the human race been here?, is there life in space?, is there life after death?, was there life before birth?, we are born as children who cannot walk speak, we have no teeth, and yet we are the most beautiful thing in the world to family and friends and stranger alike, then the immortal question here dear friends is, why do people perceive old people as ugly in the form of a child they have returned to , is this not natural events of life and we should show greater compassion for the elderly for they live in fear not only being old but some of them loose the ability to even communicate, if an old men pees in the street automatically people looking on him as rude and uncultured and a tyke, yet if a mother brought a little child to the side of the road to pee all the onlookers say ohh look how cute he is, this is the paradox of life, just because there is middle section that gathers great knowledge and confidence of life, this fades as the years progress and finally we become like children again, and yet when we were children our parents looked after us fed us cloths us bathed us took us to the doctors, and made sure we were safe and secure at all times and as a bonus they you used to inspire us to thing positive and be something great in life so in return we can serve society, then when our parents become old we must not abandon them, even if they are able and active a simple phone call can make their day, a simple I love you can lift their spirits,a sudden surprise calling unexpectedly on them will make them feel loved and wanted, it is showing them they are loved when they least expect it, it is showing them that you care and without them you could not even be here, we must always honour our parents for all the sacrifices they have made for us, this sacrifice does not ask the status of the family you come from there is a law of nature that says mother is a mother and they sacrifice
give a kind word a hug to older people who cannot walk or they are struggling in life they are already broken do not break them even more with your looks that says many negative things, look upon them as love, look upon them as they have paid the price for all the sacrifices they have made to family and country and the world, it is true they were never perfect, and they have made many mistakes in their journey of life, and no doubt they have many regrets as well as tender memories, imagine for a second you are in their shoes and you are looking back on life through a broken body that is preparing itself for the great city in the sky, for surely this is what it is to be old especially very old
be gentle with old people they deserve our, love, compassion and respect
”
”
Kenan Hudaverdi