Hmm Day Quotes

I’m revoking your warrior status,” he says as he watches Clara and her family. “I had warrior status?” “For about thirty seconds.” “What heinous crime did I commit to lose my exalted status?” “A true warrior would have retrieved her sword first before doing personal business.” “I’m all about personal business. Every battle I have is personal.” “Hmm. Good answer. Maybe you’ll eventually regain your status.” “I won’t hold my breath.

So you've been gone a couple days,' Alison said. 'Hmm, what'd you miss...A celebrity did drugs. Politicians disagreed. A different celebrity wore a bikini that revealed a bodily imperfection. A team won a sporting event, but another team lost.

I know this is not a very popular idea. You don't hear it too often any more … but it's the truth. I have taken drugs before and … I had a real good time. Sorry. Didn't murder anybody, didn't rape anybody, didn't rob anybody, didn't beat anybody, didn't lose – hmm – one fucking job, laughed my ass off, and went about my day. Sorry. Now, where's my commercial?

Lenah?" "Yeah?" I replied. "Will you go to winter prom with me?" "Of course," I whispered, sure I would fall asleep in moments. "Justin?" "Mm-Hmm?" he said, moments from sleep himself. "What's a prom?

Has anyone else . . ." "Hmm?" Grams walked the paper back across the room and took up her tray of hospital good again, settling it over me. "Has anyone else, what?: "Been by," I mumbled. "To visit." Grams gave me a knowing smile. "A charming young woman with a mouth that could give a sailor a heart attack? A sweet little one who brought you flowers? The one who spent half a day chasing doctors and nurses around, demanding answers about your condition? Or, by any chance are you referring to a very well - mannered Southern boy?

But Hazael only said, "I brought you a present." Liraz took the flower, looked at it, and then a Hazael, expressionless. And then she ate it. She chewed the flower and swallowed it. "Hmm," said Hazael. "Not the usual response." "Oh, do you give flowers often?" "Yes," he said. He probably did. Hazael had a way of enjoying life in spite of the many restrictions they lived under, being soldiers, and worse, being Misbegotten. "I hope it wasn't poisonous," he said lightly. Liraz just shrugged. "There are worse ways to die.

You should spend more time reading the Good Book and less reading all those novels. What are you going to tell the Lord on Judgement Day when He asks you why you didn't read your bible? Hmm?" I will tell Him that His press agents could have done with a writing lesson or two, I said. To myself.

Religion. Hmm. I guess it's like fire. In good hands, fire can be used to do positive things, like keep you warm. Make s'mores. In bad hands, it can burn a witch at the stake. Lynch a Black body.

Hmm…can’t speak, huh baby? Just think how good it will feel when I bury my cock deep inside that warm pussy, when I fuck you so hard you will feel me for days. Going to make you drown in pleasure, fuck you so good, so fucking good.

If I worked at White Globe Consulting, I wouldn't be able to do my job. I would spend all day texting the other people in the office, asking them what was going on today and had they heard anything new and what did they think was going to happen. Hmm. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not in an office job.

Hester shook her head. 'Don't confuse what you do with who you are, dearie. Besides, there's no shame in humble work. Why, Aesop himself, the king of storytellers, was a slave his whole life. Never drew a free breath, yet he shaped the world with just three small words: there once was. And where are his great masters now, hmm? Rotting in tombs, if they're lucky. But Aesop - he still lives to this day, dancin' on the tip of every tongue what's ever told a tale.' She winked at Molly. 'Think on that, next time you're scrubbing floors.

Sad day, my loves, a proper tragedy. But when the milk’s gone bad you might as well look forward to cheese, hmm?

Mm-hmm. You know, lip dye isn't a crime in this state. You ought to try it." "I've been kind of busy." "You're always kind of busy. You're not using the eye gel I gave you. You can't find a minute twice a day for eye gel? You want bags and wrinkles? You got the finest piece of man-candy on and off planet, and you want him looking at your face with bags and wrinkles? What are you going to do when he dumps you for a woman who takes time to maintain her face?" "Kill him.

Icarus." "Hmm?" "I don't have a hidden agenda. Nor do I intend to use you or mislead you with my charm." Despite herself, she smiled, glancing at him. His face was studiously neutral. "The day you act charming, I'll know something is wrong.

She shook her head. 'Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you.' 'You said the other day life was long,' I shot back. 'Which is it?' ' It's both,' she said, shrugging. 'IT all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing.' 'Nothing can be two opposite things at once,' I said. 'It's impossible.' 'No,' she replied, squeezing my hand,' what's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything other than that. Look, when I was in the hosptal, right after the accident, they thought I was going to die. I was really fucked up, big time.' 'Uh-huh,' Monica said, looking at her sister. 'Then,' Kristy continued, nodding at her, 'life was very short, literally. but now that I'm better it seems so long I have to squint to see even the edges of it. It's all in the view, Macy. That's what I mean about forever, too. For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You can never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count.' Monica, lighting another cigarette, nodded. 'Mmm-hmm,' she said. 'What you have to decide,' Kristy said to me, leaning foreward, 'is how you want your life to be. If your forever was ending tomorrow, would this be how you'd want to have spent it? It seemed like it was a choice I had already made. I'd spent the last year and a half with Jason, shaping my life to fit his, doing what I had to in order to make sure I had a plae in his perfect world, where things made sense. But it hadn't worked. 'Listen,' Kristy said,' the truth is, nohing is guaranteed. You know that more than anybody.' She looed at me hard, making sure I knew what she meant. I did. 'So don't be afraid. Be alive.' But then, I couldn't imagine, after everything that had happened, how you could live and not constantly be worrying about the dangers all around you. Especially when you'd already gotten teh scare of your life. 'It's the same thing,' I told her. 'What is?' 'Being afraid and being alive.' 'No,' she said slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.

My eyes had been closed for a few minutes when he said it: "I love you," he muttered, so quiet, like a prayer whispered into my neck. "Hmm?" I was nearly asleep myself, edges blurring; I was one hundred percent sure I'd misheard. "I love you." He said it again, clearer this time, right into my ear, breath tickling. I felt like a hydrogen bomb. I tried to be very still, but I knew he could feel my entire body tensing, a runner ready to begin a race -- Get set-- Go. I opened my mouth, shut it again. Oh God. I did love him, is the awfulness of it. I'd loved Sawyer since the seventh grade, when Allie and I began keeping a list of the places we spotted him. I loved his quick, blistered musician hands and the honest soul he kept hidden safe under all his bravado, and I loved how I was still, every day, learning him. I loved his silly, secret goofy side and the way he had of making me feel like I was a tall tree, just from the way he looked at my face. I loved Sawyer LeGrande so much that sometimes I couldn't sit still for the fullness of it, but when I opened up my mouth to tell him so, nothing came out. I could do anything for him, I realized suddenly. I could give him anything. But not that. If I said that to him, I knew I could never get it back. "Go to sleep," I whispered, and he didn't say it again.

I sat looking at her with rapt attention. My heart was thumping, the blood coursing warmly through my veins. What a wonderful pleasure to be sitting in a human dwelling again, hear a clock ticking, and talk with a lively young girl instead of with myself! Why don't you say something?" Ah, how sweet you are!" I said. "I'm sitting here getting fascinated by you, at this moment I'm thoroughly fascinated. I can't help it. You are the strangest person that... Sometimes your eyes are so radiant, I've never seen anything like it, they look like flowers. Eh? No, no, maybe not like flowers but... I'm madly in love with you, and it won't do me a bit of good. What's your name? Really, you must tell me what your name is..." No, what's your name? Goodness, I almost forgot again! I was thinking all day yesterday that I must ask you. Well, that is, not all day yesterday, I certainly didn't think about you all day yesterday." Do you know what I've called you? I have called you Ylajali. How do you like it? Such a gliding sound-" Ylajali?" Yes." Is it a foreign language?" Hmm. No, it's not." Well, it isn't ugly.

Connor: That was hot. Stacey: Hmm? Connor: Feeling you watching me.

When he resigned his boss thought he was asking for more money. 'No,' he said. 'I'm just going to try to be a full-time writer.' Oh, his boss said, you want a lot more money. 'No, really,' he said. 'This isn't a negotiation. I'm just giving you my thirty days' notice. Thirty-one days from now, I won't be coming in.' Hmm, his boss replied. I don't think we can give you as much money as that.

I could have made analytical comparisons with kisses I’d had from other boys, trying to work out just why Gideon did it so much better. I might also have stopped to remember that there was a wall between us, and a confessional window through which Gideon had squeezed his head and arms, and these were not the ideal conditions for kissing. Quite apart from the fact that I could do without any more chaos in my life, after discovering only two days ago that I’d inherited my family’s time-traveling gene. The fact was, however, that I hadn’t been thinking anything at all, except maybe oh and hmm and more! That’s why I hadn’t noticed the flip-flop sensation inside me, and only new, when the little gargoyle folded his arms and flashed his eyes at me from his pew, only when I saw the confessional curtain—brown, although it had been green velvet a moment ago—did I work it out that meanwhile we’d traveled back to the present. “Hell!” Gideon moved back to his side of the confessional and rubbed the back of his head. Hell? I came down from cloud nine with a bump and forgot the gargoyle. “Oh, I didn’t think it was that bad,” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. Unfortunately, I was rather breathless, which tended to spoil the effect. I couldn’t look Gideon in the eye, so instead I kept staring at the brown polyester curtain in the confessional.

I’m flattered that you need the biggest, meanest warrior on your side to best me, Uri. Let’s see, how big a warrior do I need as a second to beat you and Sacriel? Hmm . . . I’ll take . . . the Daughter of Man. She should even out the odds.

So you've been gone a couple days,' Allison said. 'Hmm, what'd you miss... A celebrity did drugs. Politicians disagreed. A different celebrity wore a bikini that revealed a bodily imperfection. A team won a sporting event, but another team lost.

So you've been gone a couple days,' Alison said. 'Hmm, what'd you miss...A celebrity did drugs. Politicians disagreed. A different celebrity wore a bikini that revealed a bodily imperfection. A team won a sporting event, but another team lost.' I smiled. 'You can't go disappearing on everybody like this, Hazel. You miss too much.

Hmm, What did I love? I think all the scents. Mama's lilac trees, and the wild iris in the fields, and rain on the breeze on a hot day. Apple and pear blossoms. The hay just cut. The mix of odors in the barn when the sunlight was shafting through the cracks in the boards, heating everything up.

Oh. I thought sexy meant pretty.” “Hmm, nope. Pretty is another thing that can be sold. What and who is pretty is also something those people in boardrooms decide. It’s always changing. So if what you want to be is pretty, you’ll have to keep changing yourself constantly—and eventually you won’t know who you are. “What I want to be, girls, is beautiful. Beautiful means ‘full of beauty.’ Beautiful is not about how you look on the outside. Beautiful is about what you’re made of. Beautiful people spend time discovering what their idea of beauty on this earth is. They know themselves well enough to know what they love, and they love themselves enough to fill up with a little of their particular kind of beauty each day.

I swear,” said Scarlet during the last lesson of the day, “if he says hmm like that one more time, I’m going to strangle him with that bloomin’ tape measure!” I watched as Mr Hardwick went over to the fireplace at the side of the room, one of the remnants of the old house, paused, and then said, “Hmmmmm …” Scarlet jumped up out of her seat, but thankfully the bell rang right at that moment. I quickly dragged her out before she could do any damage.

Ben: You know what's really great about baseball? Lindsey Meeks: Hmm? Ben: You can't fake it. You know, anything else in life you don't have to be great in - business, music, art - I mean you can get lucky. Lindsey Meeks: Really? Ben: Yeah, you can fool everyone for awhile, you know? It's like - not - not baseball. You can either hit a curveball or you can't. That's the way it works... Lindsey Meeks: Hmm. Ben: You know? Ben: You can have a lucky day, sure, but you can't have a lucky career. It's a little like math. It's orderly. Win or lose, it's fair. It all adds up. It's, like, not as confusing or as ambiguous as, uh... Lindsey Meeks: Life? Ben: Yeah. It's - it's safe.

But...was he flirting? Hmm. Not sure what I thought of that. A nice office flirt did make the day go faster, but Adam was my boss, not to mention an annoying one, and I was nothing if not professional. Snort. Yeah. That made me laugh too.

Taking both of my hands, he pulls me into the tide. Salt water deepens the lavender satin of my gown to almost black. The waves push into it, making it heavier and heavier. “Tell me when,” he says. I nod. When Galen is neck deep and I’m clinging to him to keep my head above water. When my saturated prom dress feels like an anchor grasping at my limbs. When the moon is directly overhead and makes the silver flecks in his eyes shimmer like gems. That’s when I’m ready. “Now,” I breathe. He brushes his lips against mine. Once Twice. So soft it barely feels like anything. But it also feels like everything. He pulls me under. One day, when Galen and I are mated, I’ll be a princess. But I’ll never feel more like a princess than right now, in his arms, dancing on the ocean floor. He pulls my from my trance with his lips against me ear. “Emma.” It’s silly how my own name can send tingles shooting everywhere. “Hmm?” “I’ve been thinking. About us.” He pulls away from me. “I think…I think I need a distraction.” “Um. A distraction? From me?” The words taste vinegary in my mouth. They turn sweet again when Galen throws his head back and laughs. “Emma,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. “You are the one thing I’m sure of. Completely. Without thinking twice. But I want to get away from here for a little while. And I want you to come with me. I know you’re set on going to college in the fall. I’m only asking for the summer. Let’s go somewhere. Do something.” I float up until I’m eye level with him. “Let’s. Where will we go?” He shrugs. “I don’t care, as long as it’s away from any ocean.” “So…the desert?” He grimaces. “The mountains?” I laugh. “Deal. We’ll go to the mountains.” “You’re sure?” I pull him by the neck until our noses touch. “Completely. Without thinking twice.

What about me?” Karigan asked. “Hmm?” “What part do I play?” “You have already done more than your share,” he said. “You will rest here with the day’s other wounded and the remainder of Marshal Martel’s troops. Should we fail . . . well, I can depend on you to move these people out of harm’s way.” “No,” Karigan said. The king raised a brow. “No?” Karigan shoved the blanket off and raised herself to her feet. “I’m going with you. King or not, you can’t stop me. My father is being held in the throne room.” “You are wounded and exhausted,” Zachary said. “I don’t want you to slow us down.” “You have a broken arm,” Karigan retorted. “Who will be slowing who?” The king’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth was quirked in a half smile he couldn’t quite hide. It was as if he wanted to laugh, but he knew better than to do so. “I see,” he said. Horse Marshal Martel appeared at the king’s side, his face impassive. “I told you, my lord, we should have left her while she was asleep.” “I should have listened more closely,” he said.

At a nearby table, two men in suits were discussing the gymnastics final in booming voices. “She never would have won if the Russians hadn’t boycotted,” the man insisted. “It’s not a victory if the best players aren’t there.” Sam asked his mother whether she thought the man with the loud voice was right. “Hmm.” Anna sipped her iced tea and then she rested her chin in her hands, which Sam had learned to recognize as her philosophizing gesture. Anna was a great talker, and it was one of the most profound pleasures of young Sam’s life to discuss the world and its mysteries with his mother. No one took him, and his queries, more seriously than she did. “Even if what he says is true, I think it’s still a victory,” she said. “Because she won on this day, with this particular set of people. We can never know what else might have happened had other competitors been there. The Russian girls could have won, or they could have gotten jet-lagged and choked.” Anna shrugged. “And this is the truth of any game—it can only exist at the moment that it is being played. It’s the same with being an actor. In the end, all we can ever know is the game that was played, in the only world that we know.

So you’ve been gone a couple days,” Alison said. “Hmm, what’d you miss…A celebrity did drugs. Politicians disagreed. A different celebrity wore a bikini that revealed a bodily imperfection. A team won a sporting event, but another team lost.” I smiled. “You can’t go disappearing on everybody like this, Hazel. You miss too much.

It looks as though your shop is doing well,” Luka said, gazing around. “Could you help me find a gift for a lady friend of mine?” My heart plunged to my green satin slippers, and I had to stare down at Azarte for a minute, petting him hard. Naturally Luka had a “lady friend.” She was probably nobly born: the daughter of a count or a duke. I imagined her having thick dark hair and clear skin, and was bitterly jealous. “Of c-course,” I stammered after a time. “What would she like? A gown? A sash?” If she came in for a fitting, I decided to “accidentally” poke her with every pin. “Hmm, well, she is wearing a lovely gown today,” he said. “Although no sash.” So. He’d already seen her today, and it was not yet noon. I rubbed Azarte’s ears furiously. “What color is her gown?” “It’s sort of green, with more green, and the design looks like stained glass windows,” he said. “It’s very beautiful, like her.” I stopped petting the dog and looked up at him, not sure what I was hearing. “Oh?” My heart thumped painfully. “Yes, so perhaps she doesn’t need a sash after all. No sense gilding the lily.” He gave a melancholy sigh. “But I really would love to give her a very special gift. I was hoping if I did, she might give me a kiss in return, instead of the brotherly hugs I always get instead.” I raised my eyebrows, trying for casual interest even though I could feel my pulse beating in the blood rushing to my cheeks. “I know!” Luka snapped his fingers. “Forget a sash. I’ll give her this!” And with a flourish, he pulled a roll of parchment from his belt pouch. More confused than ever, I unrolled the paper and read. It was a letter from a priest in the Southern Counties, addressed to King Caxel. In it the priest begged for a grant of money. They had recently built a large chapel, the finest that had ever been dedicated to the Triune Gods in that region, and it had only been completed the year before. “But we do need another grant from the crown,” the priest wrote. “For a most heinous act of vandalism has taken place. Our rose-glass window, which illuminates the Triple Altar in glorious colors pleasing to the gods, has been stolen. It was removed from its frame the night before last, and not a pane of it can be found.” “Shardas?” I looked up at Luka with my eyes brimming. “Shardas!” “I have a pair of horses waiting outside,” Luka said. “We can be at Feniul’s cave by nightfall.” I threw my arms around him again, and this time I gave him the kiss he’d been waiting for.

Why do you want to know?” The shrug again. “Just wondering.” “Really. You’ve skipped your lawn tennis or duck hunting or whiskey drinking or whatever else people of your sort do all day, only to come all the way out to the island to ask me about the piano piece. Because you were just wondering.” I pushed away from the door. “Coming here to kiss me would have been more believable.” “Well, it was second on my list.” “I’m not intimidated by you,” I said, blunt. “If you’re hoping I’ll turn out to be some pathetic, blubbering little rag-girl who begs you not to ruin her, you’re in for a surprise.” “That’s good.” Lord Armand met my eyes. “I like surprises.” We gazed at each other, he on the bed and me by the door, neither of us giving quarter. It seemed to me that the room was growing even more dim, that time was repeating the same ploy it had pulled in Jesse’s cottage, drawing out long and slow. The storm outside railed against the castle walls, drowning the air within. It layered darkness through Armand’s eyes, the once-vivid blue now deep as the ocean at night. Beyond my window the rain fell and fell, fat clouds weeping as if they’d never stop. “Nice bracelet,” Armand said softly. “Did you steal it?” I shook my head. “You gave it to me.” “Did I?” “As far as everyone else if concerned, yes. You did.” “Hmm. And what do I get in return for agreeing to be your…benefactor?” “The answer to your question.” “No kiss?” he asked, even softer. “No.” His lips quirked. “All right, then, waif. I accept your terms. We’ll try the kiss later.

You're up early," I said. "I always rise early. The morning is the best time for me to work." I glanced at the books. "What are you going, Greek?" Henry set the cup back into its saucer. "A translation of Paradise Lost." "Into what language?" "Latin," he said solemly. "Hmm," I said. "Why?" "I am interested to see what I will wind up with. Milton to my way of thinking is our greatest English poet, greater than Shakespeare, but I think in some ways it was unfortunate that he chose to write in English — of course, he wrote a not inconsiderable amount of poetry in Latin, but that was early, in his student days; what I'm referring to is the later work. In Paradise Lost he pushes English to its very limits but I think no language without noun cases could possible support the structural order he attempts to impose. He laid his cigarette back into the ashtray.

Another One' When you’re a child you learn there are three dimensions Height, width and depth Like a shoebox Then later you hear there’s a fourth dimension Time Hmm Then some say there can be five, six, seven… I knock off work Have a beer at the bar I look down at the glass and feel glad. 'Poem' I’m in the house It’s nice out Warm Sun on cold snow First day of spring Or last day of winter My legs run up the stairs And out the door My top half here writing.

When the dress for Irex’s dinner party arrived wrapped in muslin and tied with twine, it was Arin who brought the package to Kestrel. She hadn’t seen him since the first green storm. She didn’t like to think about that day. It was her grief, she decided, that she didn’t want to remember. She was learning to live around it. She had returned to her music, and let that outings and lessons flow around the fact of Enai’s death, smoothing its jagged edges. She spent little time at the villa. She sent no invitations to Arin for Bite and Sting. If she went into society, she chose other escorts. When Arin stepped into her sitting room that was really a writing room, Kestrel set her book next to her on the divan and turned its spine so that he wouldn’t see the title. “Hmm,” Arin said, turning the packaged dress over in his hands. “What could this be?” “I am sure you know.” He pressed it between his fingers. “A very soft kind of weapon, I think.

Stormy, tell me about where you were when John F. Kennedy died.” “It was a Friday. I was baking a pineapple upside-down cake for my bridge club. I put it in the oven and then I saw the news and forgot all about the cake and nearly burned the house down. We had to have the kitchen repainted because of all the soot.” She fusses with her hair. “He was a saint, that man. A prince. If I’d met him in my heyday, we really could’ve had some fun. You know, I flirted with a Kennedy once at an airport. He sidled up to me at the bar and bought me a very dry gin martini. Airports used to be so very much more glamorous. People got dressed up to travel. Young people on airplanes these days, they wear those horrible sheepskin boots and pajama pants and it’s an eyesore. I wouldn’t go out for the mail dressed like that.” “Which Kennedy?” I ask. “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. He had the Kennedy chin, anyway.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Stormy and her escapades.

Can you drive it?" "No. I can't drive a stick at all. It's why I took Andy's car and not one of yours." "Oh people, for goodness' sake...move over." Choo Co La Tah pushed past Jess to take the driver's seat. Curious about that, she slid over to make room for the ancient. Jess hesitated. "Do you know what you're doing?" Choo Co La Tah gave him a withering glare. "Not at all. But I figured smoeone needed to learn and no on else was volunteering. Step in and get situated. Time is of the essence." Abigail's heart pounded. "I hope he's joking about that." If not, it would be a very short trip. Ren changed into his crow form before he took flight. Jess and Sasha climbed in, then moved to the compartment behind the seat. A pall hung over all of them while Choo Co La Tah adjusted the seat and mirrors. By all means, please take your time. Not like they were all about to die or anything... She couldn't speak as she watched their enemies rapidly closing the distance between them. This was by far the scariest thing she'd seen. Unlike the wasps and scorpions, this horde could think and adapt. They even had opposable thumbs. Whole different ball game. Choo Co La Tah shifted into gear. Or at least he tried. The truck made a fierce grinding sound that caused jess to screw his face up as it lurched violently and shook like a dog coming in from the rain. "You sure you odn't want me to try?" Jess offered. Choo Co La Tah waved him away. "I'm a little rusty. Just give me a second to get used to it again." Abigail swallowed hard. "How long has it been?" Choo Co La Tah eashed off the clutch and they shuddred forward at the most impressive speed of two whole miles an hour. About the same speed as a limping turtle. "Hmm, probably sometime around nineteen hundred and..." They all waited with bated breath while he ground his way through more gears. With every shift, the engine audibly protested his skills. Silently, so did she. The truck was really moving along now. They reached a staggering fifteen miles an hour. At this rate, they might be able to overtake a loaded school bus... by tomorrow. Or at the very least, the day after that. "...must have been the summer of...hmm...let me think a moment. Fifty-three. Yes, that was it. 1953. The year they came out with color teles. It was a good year as I recall. Same year Bill Gates was born." The look on Jess's and Sasha's faces would have made her laugh if she wasn't every bit as horrified. Oh my God, who put him behind the wheel? Sasha visibly cringed as he saw how close their pursuers were to their bumper. "Should I get out and push?" Jess cursed under his breath as he saw them, too. "I'd get out and run at this point. I think you'd go faster." Choo Co La Tah took their comments in stride. "Now, now, gentlemen. All is well. See, I'm getting better." He finally made a gear without the truck spazzing or the gears grinding.

The old woman sat in her leather recliner, the footrest extended, a dinner tray on her lap. By candlelight, she turned the cards over, halfway through a game of Solitaire. Next door, her neighbors were being killed. She hummed quietly to herself. There was a jack of spades. She placed it under the queen of hearts in the middle column. Next a six of diamonds. It went under the seven of spades. Something crashed into her front door. She kept turning the cards over. Putting them in their right places. Two more blows. The door burst open. She looked up. The monster crawled inside, and when it saw her sitting in the chair, it growled. “I knew you were coming,” she said. “Didn’t think it’d take you quite so long.” Ten of clubs. Hmm. No home for this one yet. Back to the pile. The monster moved toward her. She stared into its small, black eyes. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to just walk into someone’s house without an invitation?” she asked. Her voice stopped it in its tracks. It tilted its head. Blood—from one of her neighbor’s no doubt—dripped off its chest onto the floor. Belinda put down the next card. “I’m afraid this is a one-player game,” she said, “and I don’t have any tea to offer you.” The monster opened its mouth and screeched a noise out of its throat like the squawk of a terrible bird. “That is not your inside voice,” Belinda snapped. The abby shrunk back a few steps. Belinda laid down the last card. “Ha!” She clapped. “I just won the game.” She gathered up the cards into a single deck, split it, then shuffled. “I could play Solitaire all day every day,” she said. “I’ve found in my life that sometimes the best company is your own.” A growl idled again in the monster’s throat. “You cut that right out!” she yelled. “I will not be spoken to that way in my own home.” The growl changed into something almost like a purr. “That’s better,” Belinda said as she dealt a new game. “I apologize for yelling. My temper sometimes gets the best of me.

Lazily...possessively he ran a hand down her back. "Mmm, again," Shelby murmured. With a quiet laugh, Alan stroked up and down until she was ready to purr. "Shelby..." She gave another sigh as an answer and snuggled closer. "Shelby,there's something warm and fluffy under my feet." "Mmm-hmm." "If it's your cat, he's not breathing." "MacGregor." He kissed the top of her head. "What?" She gave a muffled laugh against his shoulder. "MacGregor," she repeated. "My pig." There was silence for a moment while he tried to digest this. "I beg your pardon?" The dry serious tone had more laughter bubbling up. Would she ever be able to face a day without hearing it? "Oh, say that again.I love it." Because she had to see his face, Shelby found the energy to lean across him and grope for the matches on the nightstand. Skin rubbed distractedly against skin while she struck one and lit a candle. "MacGregor," she said, giving Alan a quick kiss before she gestured to the foot of the bed. Alan studied the smiling porcine face. "You named a stuffed purple pig after me?" "Alan, is that any way to talk about our child?" His eyes shifted to hers in an expression so masculine and ironic, she collapsed on his chest in a fit of giggles. "I put him there because he was supposed to be the only MacGregor who charmed his way into my bed." "Really." Alan tugged on her hair until she lifted her face, full of amusement and fun,to his. "Is that what I dd?" "You knew damn well I wouldn't be able to resist balloons and rainbows foever.

Grom, I need to ask you something." Hesitant, Grom tears his gaze from the abyss and settles it on his brother, but his eyes still hold a distance. "Hmm?" "Do you believe in the pull?" The question visibly jolts Grom, replacing the detachment in his eyes with pain. "What kind of question is that?" Galen shrugs, guilt stabbing him like a trident. "Some say you felt the pull for Nalia." Grom massages his eyes with fingertips, but not before Galen sees the torment deepen. "I didn't realize you listened to gossip, little brother." "If I listened to gossip, I wouldn't bother to ask." "Do you believe in the pull, Galen?" "I don't know." Galen nods, sighing. "I don't know either. But if there is such a thing, I guess it would be safe to say I felt it toward Nalia." With a flit of his tail, he swims forward, turning away from his brother. "Sometimes I swear I can still sense her. It's faint, and it comes and goes. Some days it's so real, I think I'm losing my mind." "What...what does it feel like?" Galen almost can't ask. He'd already determined to never have this conversation with Grom. But things have changed. To his surprise, Grom chuckles. "Is there something I need to know, little brother? Has someone finally hooked you?" Galen doesn't quite get his mouth closed before his brother turns around. Grom's laugh seems foreign in this dismal place. "Looks like she's got you hooked and reeled. Who is she?" "None of your business." At least not yet. Grom grins. "So that's where you've been. Chasing after a female." "You could say that." In fact, his brother can say anything he wants. He's not telling Grom about Emma. Not while Paca is out there somewhere, just waiting to be mated with a Triton king. "If you won't tell me, I'll just ask Rayna." "If Rayna knew, there would have already been a public announcement." "True," Grom says, smirking. "You're smarter than I give you credit for, tadpole. So smart, in fact, that I know I don't have to tell you to keep her away from here, whoever she is. Just until things settle down." Galen nods. "You don't have to worry about that.

Yep. We’re his Lieutenants,” Day answered, picking up the largest coffee cup Furi had ever seen and taking a huge gulp. “You guys had a trying evening last night, so we thought we’d check in on you.” Syn just nodded. “Hmm. Right.” “Nice bandage.” God peeked around his paper again angling his head at Syn’s hand. “Nothing broken?” Syn looked at his hand. “Furi wrapped it up for me last night. Just a little torn skin, it’s nothing really.” “He tried to be all tough but I had to blow on it to make it feel better.” Furi’s teasing had Syn smiling. “Glad you’re okay, Syn.” Day winked mischievously. Furi looked at Syn. “You just don’t realize how awesome it is to have such great bosses. Came to check up on you, considerate enough to bring you breakfast, I mean just all around awesome guys.” “Just wait for it, Furi,” Syn cut him off. “What?” Furi’s brow creased in confusion. “All the warm compliments you’re giving God and Day ... just wait for it.” Furi looked confused. “I don’t know what you’re–” “What else did you have to blow on to make feel better?” Day said around a snort. “Really hate to have missed that show, spanky.” Day smiled broadly at Furi. Furi groaned and dropped his head as he ran both hands through his hair. “You guys watched my videos.” “Hell yeah.” Day grinned. “For evidence and research purposes only,” God chimed in. “Five times,” Day yelled, punching God in his large bicep. “Okay guys. Shut up," Syn huffed. “I’m just saying, you lucky fuck. You get to date a hot porn puppy and we can’t say anything.” Day stared at Furi, completely ignoring Syn’s fuming.

That girl didn’t have a moment’s peace from the day Adriano Dardano set foot in Galway and started chasing her.” Sister Brannigan said, as she led them around the convent garden. “Nice of Francesca to stay still for him to catch her then wasn’t it?” Alessandro remarked dryly. “Mmph,” the nun responded. “My grandfather loved Francesca,” Alessandro insisted. “Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead. But let’s call a spade a spade, hmm? Your grandfather was a charmer. Now perhaps he didn’t realize just how naïve our Francesca was and how besotted with him she was.” “Mmm, very generous of you,” Alessandro grumbled. “I will say that on the times he brought some food he had made with Francesca up to the convent, it was clear he had a wonderful talent in the kitchen. Now mind ye, the Italian food was a bit rich for my taste but still, rather good.” “I’m sure my grandfather’s resting easier in his grave now that the holy sister has complimented his cooking,” Alessandro whispered in Bree’s ear making, her laugh out loud and Sister Brannigan turn to her in question.

That day…when I loved you to distraction and struggled to forget you by betraying you…ironically my punishment was to live forever with this duty, enduring love…carrying it heavier even than this cross I carry, the one you carried. But…for two thousand years? I’ve been your hands and your feet, all this time. Is this role my last? Hmm…hey…I know it’s bold to ask you like this, but…before I die…will you grant me one wish? Leading them to the end they truly desired…was my role, wasn’t it? I am too worried to relax and die. Please…my Lord, Jesus.

Well," he asked, "whaddya expect?" It was so obviously a rhetorical question that of course I answered it. My truth impulse seemed stronger around this boy,my impulse control way under par. "I would expect you to be dancing." His expression was unreadable in the limited light. "Is that an invitation?" "No. An observation." He shrugged. "Okay. I needed a break. It was either keep an eye on Chase while he pukes up a fifth of cheap rum in the guys' bathroom or follow the girls into the ladies' room." I almost smiled and told him about Willing's bathrooms and me. Instead, some truly horrific and irresistible impulse had me announcing, "Amanda looks really pretty tonight." "So do you." Bizarrely, I felt my breath catch in my chest, and for a long, awful second, I thought I might cry. I gripped the top of my pad tightly, concentrated on the spiral metal binding where it dug into my skin. "It's a cool costume," he said. "Water nymph?" "Sea goddess," I answered quietly. "Roman." "Hmm." Alex was staring out toward the garden now,looking so at ease that I went from pretzel to knot. Could it really be that easy for him? To say things like he did without thinking? Without meaning them at all? "Too many mermaids tonight. Not that I have anything against mermaids.Mermaids are hot. I mean,you saw my drawing." I nodded. "You know," he went on, "that day in the hall,you compared my stuff to two Japanese artists-" I nodded again,even though he was looking out into the darkened gardens now and not at me. "Suzuki Harunobu and Utagawa Kuniyoshi. They were eighteenth and nineteeth-century woodblock print masters-" "Ella," he interrupted. "I know who they are." "Oh." "In fact, I have a couple original Kuniyoshi prints." "Oh.Wow.Wow.

Lend stood staring blankly at the shelves of food. Arianna had sneaked upstairs to eat—or rather, drink—in private. “I have no idea what to make. I’m too exhausted to think.” “You have no right to be tired. And I never want to see you asleep ever again. I had enough of that for a lifetime these past few days.” “Allow me to take over,” Jack said, striding into the kitchen. He nudged Lend out of the way and started pulling out a huge pile of ingredients. “Can you even cook?” “If Lend had let me make him an omelet earlier, that question would already be answered.” Lend sat next to me, leaning over and putting his arm under my head as a pillow against the counter. “Remind me again why we trust him now?” “Because we need all the help we can get. And I think he really is sorry. And a lot of people are going to depend on him of all the faeries leave.” Jack furiously chopped vegetables. “Captain Dependable! Wait, we vetoed that one. The Divine Door Maker? Too much? Hmm . . . Handsome Hero, but maybe I should move away from alliteration. Something sleek. Our Lord and Master Jack.” Lend rolled his eyes and gave me a seriously-can-I-just-beat-him-to-a-pulp look.

You look beautiful, Rena." Gently he laid a hand on the mound of her belly. His sister, he thought as wonder and pride mixed together. His baby sister. "I can't get used to it," he murmured. Serena put her hand on his. "You don't have a great deal more time to get used to it." She felt the baby move under their joined hands and grinned as Alan's gaze dropped to them. "He or she is impatient to begin." Tilting her head, she studied Alan's face. "Dad's suddenly gotten it into his head there might be two...I wonder who might have planted that seed?" His eyes smiled as he lifted them to his sister's. "It was purely a defensive maneuver." "Mmm-hmm." Turning, she held out both hands. "You must be Shelby. I'm glad you could come." Shelby felt the warmth, more carefres than Alan's, the welcome, less curious than Caine's. "So am I.I've been wanting to meet the woman who broke Alan's nose." With a muffled chuckle, Serena jerked her head toward Caine. "It was supposed to be his." She narrowed her eyes a moment as Caine dipped his hands into his pockets and grinned. "It should have been his. Come on in and meet the rest of the family," she continued as she tucked her arm through Shelby's. "God,I hope Alan prepared you." "In his own way." "If you start to feel overwhelmed, just shoot me a look. These days all I have to do is sigh to distract Dad's attention for an hour and a half.

Hey, Large,” Gabe says, flicking me with his towel. “Where you been all day?” “I’ve been around.” I look over at Peter, but he won’t meet my eyes. “I saw you guys on the slopes.” Darrell says, “Then why didn’t you holler at us? I wanted to show off my ollies for you.” Teasingly I say, “Well, I called Peter’s name, but I guess he didn’t hear me.” Peter finally looks me in the eyes. “Nope. I didn’t hear you.” His voice is cold and indifferent and so un-Peterlike, the smile fades from my face. Gabe and Darrell exchange looks like oooh and Gabe says to Peter, “We’re gonna head out to the hot tub,” and they trot off. Peter and I are left standing in the lobby, neither of us saying anything. I finally ask, “Are you mad at me or something?” “Why would I be mad?” And then it’s back to quiet again. I say, “You know, you’re the one who talked me into coming on this trip. The least you could do is talk to me.” “The least you could do was sit next to me on the bus!” he bursts out. My mouth hangs open. “Are you really that mad that I didn’t sit next to you on the bus?” Peter lets out an impatient breath of air. “Lara Jean, when you’re dating someone, there are just…certain things you do, okay? Like sit next to each other on a school trip. That’s pretty much expected.” “I just don’t see what the big deal is,” I say. How can he be this mad over such a tiny thing? “Forget it.” He turns like he’s going to leave, and I grab his sweatshirt sleeve. I don’t want to be in a fight with him; I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at least still be my friend. Especially now that we’re at the end. I say, “Come on, don’t be mad. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. I swear I’ll sit next to you on the way home, okay?” He purses his lips. “But do you get why I was pissed?” I nod back. “Mm-hmm.” “All right then, you should know that you missed out on mocha sugar donuts.” My mouth falls open. “How’d you get those? I thought the shop didn’t open that early!” “I went out and got them last night specifically for the bus ride,” Peter says. “For you and me.

Pretty quickly, a pattern emerged surrounding what we started calling bids for connection. One person would make a bid, initiating a moment of connection—it could be physical or verbal, overt or subtle—and the researcher controlling the camera would zoom in close on their partner’s faces. Partners responded to bids for connection in one of three ways: 1. By turning toward: They gave a positive or affirmative response, acknowledging the other person and engaging with their attempt to connect. (Even a “hmm?” can count as turning toward.) 2. By turning away: They gave no response, either actively ignoring or just not noticing their partner’s attempt to connect. 3. By turning against: They responded irritably or angrily to actively shut down their partner’s attempt to connect.

Is she really old enough to have crushes on boys? I feel like she’s too young for all that.” “I had crushes on boys when I was nine,” I tell him. I’m still thinking about Kitty. I wonder how I can make it so she isn’t mad at me anymore. Somehow I don’t think snickerdoodles will cut it this time. “Who?” Josh asks me. “Who what?” Maybe if I can somehow convince Daddy to buy her a puppy… “Who was your first crush?” “Hmm. My first real crush?” I had kindergarten and first- and second-grade crushes aplenty, but they don’t really count. “Like the first one that really mattered?” “Sure.” “Well…I guess Peter Kavinsky.” Josh practically gags. “Kavinsky? Are you kidding me? He’s so obvious. I thought you’d be into someone more…I don’t know, subtle. Peter Kavinsky’s such a cliché. He’s like a cardboard cutout of a ‘cool guy’ in a movie about high school.” I shrug. “You asked.” “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “Just…wow.” “He used to be different. I mean, he was still very Peter, but less so.” When Josh looks unconvinced, I say, “You’re a boy, so you can’t understand what I’m talking about.” “You’re right. I don’t understand!” “Hey, you’re the one who had a crush on Ms. Rothschild!” Josh turns red. “She was really pretty back then!” “Uh-huh.” I give him a knowing look. “She was really ‘pretty.’” Our across-the-street neighbor Ms. Rothschild used to mow her lawn in terry-cloth short shorts and a string bikini top. The neighborhood boys would conveniently come and play in Josh’s yard on those days. “Anyway, Ms. Rothschild wasn’t my first crush.” “She wasn’t?” “No. You were.

Rich Purnell sipped coffee in the silent building. Only his cubicle illuminated the otherwise dark room. Continuing with his computations, he ran a final test on the software he'd written. It passed. With a relieved sigh, he sank back in his chair. Checking the clock on his computer, he shook his head. 3:42am. Being an astrodynamicist, Rich rarely had to work late. His job was the find the exact orbits and course corrections needed for any given mission. Usually, it was one of the first parts of a project; all the other steps being based on the orbit. But this time, things were reversed. Iris needed an orbital path, and nobody knew when it would launch. A non-Hoffman Mars-transfer isn't challenging, but it does require the exact locations of Earth and Mars. Planets move as time goes by. An orbit calculated for a specific launch date will work only for that date. Even a single day's difference would result in missing Mars entirely. So Rich had to calculate many orbits. He had a range of 25 days during which Iris might launch. He calculated one orbital path for each. He began an email to his boss. "Mike", he typed, "Attached are the orbital paths for Iris, in 1-day increments. We should start peer-review and vetting so they can be officially accepted. And you were right, I was here almost all night. It wasn't that bad. Nowhere near the pain of calculating orbits for Hermes. I know you get bored when I go in to the math, so I'll summarize: The small, constant thrust of Hermes's ion drives is much harder to deal with than the large point-thrusts of presupply probes. All 25 of the orbits take 349 days, and vary only slightly in thrust duration and angle. The fuel requirement is nearly identical for the orbits and is well within the capacity of EagleEye's booster. It's too bad. Earth and Mars are really badly positioned. Heck, it's almost easier to-" He stopped typing. Furrowing his brow, he stared in to the distance. "Hmm." he said. Grabbing his coffee cup, he went to the break room for a refill. ... "Rich", said Mike. Rich Purnell concentrated on his computer screen. His cubicle was a landfill of printouts, charts, and reference books. Empty coffee cups rested on every surface; take-out packaging littered the ground. "Rich", Mike said, more forcefully. Rich looked up. "Yeah?" "What the hell are you doing?" "Just a little side project. Something I wanted to check up on." "Well... that's fine, I guess", Mike said, "but you need to do your assigned work first. I asked for those satellite adjustments two weeks ago and you still haven't done them." "I need some supercomputer time." Rich said. "You need supercomputer time to calculate routine satellite adjustments?" "No, it's for this other thing I'm working on", Rich said. "Rich, seriously. You have to do your job." Rich thought for a moment. "Would now be a good time for a vacation?" He asked. Mike sighed. "You know what, Rich? I think now would be an ideal time for you to take a vacation." "Great!" Rich smiled. "I'll start right now." "Sure", Mike said. "Go on home. Get some rest." "Oh, I'm not going home", said Rich, returning to his calculations. Mike rubbed his eyes. "Ok, whatever. About those satellite orbits...?" "I'm on vacation", Rich said without looking up. Mike shrugged and walked away.

Have you somewhere else to be, George?” “Hmm?” His friend snapped to attention and grinned. “Anywhere but here. No offense intended, old man, but I tire of watching you glower at them. If you don’t intend to relinquish Lady Oh to Fairchild, why did you invite him?” “Because he looked so woebegone when I had coffee with him the other day. Mrs. Hampton has not let her granddaughter see anyone but my family these weeks, and apparently the colonel felt her withdrawal acutely.” Ben, on the other hand, had been allowed to watch her bruise change color under the rouge. Each shade proved a twist to the knife in his gut. Yes, it would be better for all if Fairchild were given the chance to declare himself. George clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Well, cheer up, my friend. If his expression is any indication, he may propose tonight, and then you will no longer be plagued by indecisiveness, what with him removing all decision from your hands.” “Indeed.” Blast it.

Here’s an intervention that’s aimed at shame detection and reduction: “Hmm . . . it’s hard to find your ‘I’m sorry’ voice. I have times like that too. I’ll use it for you before you find it again.” Then you, the parent, go to your other child and say, “I’m sorry I took your lovie. I know that was upsetting. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” And then—and this is key—no dart eyes, no lecture, no “See, that was easy!” Just trust—yes, TRUST—that this sank in and move on. Maybe later in the day, when you see that shame is no longer present (you’ll notice because your child is back to her playful self), you can say something like, “Apologizing is hard. It’s even hard for me and I’m an adult!” Or you can use stuffed animals to act out a situation that didn’t feel good to one of the animals and model a struggle around apologizing. Then pause and see what your daughter says. But note that none of this reflection or learning or growth is possible when shame is present.

Wait a minute, did you just say you thought you were going to worry about me...forever?" "After what happened tonight? Yes, probably." "Hmm." He took his finger back and used it to stroke my cheek. "You do realize that would require spending the rest of your life with me." The gold in his eyes was sparkling and jumping, so I knew he was only being half-serious, not trying to pressure me. What unsettled me was the absolute calm I felt when he said those words. Nothing inside of me tensed up from anxiety, or shouted in objection, or felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Rather, the deep sense of rightness I felt lying there next to him in the hospital bed grew stronger, infused with joy. I already knew that my heart called out to his, and his to mine, every moment of every day. The portal that connected us was strong and primal. I didn't want to do anything except be with him, just like that, lying in bed, talking. We could have been floating in space for all I cared. Being there with Ben felt like home.

When he broke that long kiss, he smiled at her before kissing her hard. “So, my love, I hope that your punishment will stop you from trying another payback for a while at least?” Laura laughed and sighed, dramatically. “Of course, it will. I never want to be punished like that again. Well, not until tonight anyway. You will be back tonight, won't you? I'm often very bad at night so you may have to do this all over again to me until I learn how to be good. Hmm, and during the day, I'm not always very good either so you'd better watch out for that too.” “You don't make punishing you an easy task, do you? It almost seems like you enjoy being punished.” “No, it's not that, baby. Though, your punishment was very well given. It's just that I have a very aggressive, bad gene and it makes me backslide, umm, and often frontslide too. I have learnt with you that I'm always wanting to backslide and frontslide but, as it's obviously a genetic defect, I can't really be blamed for that, now can I” (Tales from Terrigal, Book 2, WIP)

demigod, chances are you’re making your way to camp with your satyr guide. Or maybe you’ve already arrived and are reading this with the hope that it’ll calm your nerves. I’d say there’s a fifty–fifty chance of that happening. But I’m getting off topic. (I do that. I have ADHD. Bet you know what that’s like.) What I’m supposed to do is explain the story behind this book. A few months ago, Chiron – he’s the immortal centaur who’s also our camp activities director – was called away to rescue two unclaimed demigods and their satyr guide. (The satyr had got himself into a sticky situation. It took him days to get his fur clean.) Anyway, Argus, our resident security guard and part-time chauffeur, drove Chiron on this mission because, well, can you imagine a centaur driving an SUV? (You can? Hmm. Maybe you’re a child of Hypnos and saw it in a dream.) Our camp director, Mr D (aka Dionysus, the god of wine), was MIA, so that left us demigods on our own. ‘Don’t destroy Half-Blood while we’re gone,’ was Chiron’s parting instruction.

So, a few years ago, while I was presenting at a conference in Europe, my wife called and insisted that the walls of our laundry room were throbbing. That was the word she used. Pulsing, like the wall itself was alive. She described a hum, an energy, that she could feel as soon as she walked into the room. I suggested it was a wiring problem. She became … let’s just say, agitated at that point. Three days later, just before I was due to come back, she called again. The problem was getting worse, she said. There was an audible hum now, from the wall. She couldn’t sleep. She could hear it as soon as she walked in the house. She could feel it, the vibration, like something unnatural was ready to burst forth into our world. So, I flew home the next day, and found her extremely upset. I understood immediately why my suggestion of a wiring problem was so insulting—this was the sound of something alive. Something massive. So, even though I was exhausted, jet-lagged and just completely dead on my feet, I had no other thought than to go out to the garage, get my tools and peel off the siding. Guess what I found.” I didn’t answer. “Guess!” “I’m not sure I want to know.” “Bees. They had built an entire hive in the wall, sprawling from floor to ceiling. Tens of thousands of them.” His face was lighting up with the telling of his amusing anecdote. Why not? He was getting paid to tell it. “So I went and put on a hat and gloves and wrapped my wife’s scarf around my face and sprayed the hive, I killed them by the thousands. Only later did I realize that the bees are quite valuable and a local beekeeper actually came and carefully removed the hive itself at no charge. I think he’d have actually paid me if I hadn’t killed so many of them at the start.” “Hmm.” “Do you understand?” “Yeah, your wife thought it was a monster. Turned out to just be bees. So my little problem, probably just bees. It’s all bees. Nothing to worry about.” “I’m afraid you misunderstood. That was the day that a very powerful, very dangerous monster turned out to be real. Just ask the bees.

Robert.” It was a sigh and a call at the same time. She ignored the lump in her throat and called again. In an instant, her view was obscured. “Lydia!” They were eye-to-eye, and neither said anything for a moment or two. Finally, after an audible gulp, Robert spoke in a whisper. “Are you all right?” “I’ve had better days,” she said in seriousness, and then realized the absurdity of her words and chuckled. “I’m covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises and sporting a lovely goose egg above my ear. One of my favorite gowns is nothing but a ruin, but other than that, I am fine. And now that you are here, I am better.” “Thank the Lord. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say so. I have been imagining all sorts … well, let’s talk about this later.” “Yes, when we don’t have to whisper through a wall.” “Indeed.” “So what is the plan?” “Hmm … well, plans are a little lacking at this moment. I had expected to rush in and simply grab you, but there are three guards by the door. I procured a thick stick, but three to one … well, not good odds. My second idea was to loosen some of these boards and pull you out. I have also acquired a horse. So once out, we can sneak or run, whichever is the most prudent.” “Yes, but the getting-out part seems to be the problem. For, if I am not mistaken, none of the boards on this side of the barn are loose, and the other sides are too close to the villains.” “There does seem to be a decided lack of cooperation on the part of the building. I have, however, noticed something that might offer another possibility. It would require a great deal of trust on your part.” “Oh?” Lydia was almost certain she was not going to like this new possibility. “Yes. There is a hay door above me. Is there a loft inside?” “Are you thinking that I should climb a rickety ladder to the loft and then try to escape through the hay door?” “Just a thought.” “How would I get down?” “That would be the trust part.” “Ahh. I would jump, and you would catch me.” Lydia visualized her descent, skirts every which way, and a very hard landing that might produce a broken body part. “Yes. Not a brilliant plan. Do you have another?” Robert sounded hopeful. “Not really. But might I suggest a variation to yours?” “By all means.” “I will return to my cell and get the rope that the thugs used to tie me up.” “They tied you up?” “Yes. But don’t let it bother you.…” “No?” “No. Because if they hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a rope to lower myself from the hay door. I can use the one they used on my feet; it’s thick and long.” “I like that so much better than watching you fling yourself from a high perch.” “Me too. It might take a few minutes as I must return to my original cell—I escaped, you know.” “I didn’t. That is quite impressive.” “Thank you. Anyway, I must return to my cell for the rope, climb the ladder, cross the loft to the door … et cetera, et cetera. All in silence, of course.” “Of course.” “It might take as much as twenty minutes.” “I promise to wait. Won’t wander off … pick flowers or party with the thugs.” “Good to know.” “Just warn me before you jump.” “Oh, yes. I will most certainly let you know.” With a deep sigh, Lydia headed back to her cell, slowly and quietly.

A flower clock?" "Yeah. Mum was... is a florist, so I'm using her books on flowers to try to re-create or, well, create Carl Linnaeus's flower clock. He was a guy from the eighteenth century. Basically, each flower in the clock opens at a different time of day." "Its petals open?" "Yeah, so flowers have circadian rhythms," Ben says. He's blushing. "I don't know. Sounds stupid now I'm saying it. And it hasn't actually worked yet either. I thought, though, that with climate change and everything, the flowers will start opening at weird times, so it kind of goes beyond everything with, you know... my mum. It'll be, like, the more we damage the world, the more we damage the clock, and time, and, yeah, the future." "That sounds beautiful, Ben," I say. "Yeah, I don't know. I mean, what am I going to do with it? What's the point of it, really? Will it go in a gallery and then be, like, sold as prints of photographs of it or something? And then the time element of it will be gone." "Hmm." "Sorry," Ben says, and he shakes his head. "I guess I'm in a bit of a crap mood." He looks at me sideways, and nervously laughs to himself. "I mean, I don't know why I just told you all that." I shake my head. "It's fine. So, what flower's time is it now?" I ask. Ben looks at his phone. "Ugh, yeah, so that's the other thing. There actually doesn't seem to be a flower for each hour, which is kind of problematic. But the closest to now is the meadow goat's beard. It opens at three." "Oh, cool," I say. "So right now doesn't exist in flower time?" "Yeah, I guess it doesn't. I've never thought of it like that.

When the dress for Irex’s dinner party arrived wrapped in muslin and tied with twine, it was Arin who brought the package to Kestrel. She hadn’t seen him since the first green storm. She didn’t like to think about that day. It was her grief, she decided, that she didn’t want to remember. She was learning to live around it. She had returned to her music, and let that outings and lessons flow around the fact of Enai’s death, smoothing its jagged edges. She spent little time at the villa. She sent no invitations to Arin for Bite and Sting. If she went into society, she chose other escorts. When Arin stepped into her sitting room that was really a writing room, Kestrel set her book next to her on the divan and turned its spine so that he wouldn’t see the title. “Hmm,” Arin said, turning the packaged dress over in his hands. “What could this be?” “I am sure you know.” He pressed it between his fingers. “A very soft kind of weapon, I think.” “Why are you delivering my dress?” “I saw Lirah with it. I asked if I could bring it to you.” “And she let you, of course.” He lifted his brows at her tone. “She was busy. I thought she would be glad for one less thing to do.” “That was kind of you then,” Kestrel said, though she heard her voice indicate otherwise and was annoyed with herself. Slowly, he said, “What do you mean?” “I mean nothing.” “You asked me to be honest with you. Do you think I have been?” She remembered his harsh words during the storm. “Yes.” “Can I not ask the same thing of you?” The answer was no, no slave could ask anything of her. The answer was no, if he wanted her secret thoughts he could try to win them at Bite and Sting. But Kestrel swallowed a sudden flare of nervousness and admitted to herself that she valued his honesty--and her own, when she was around him. There was nothing wrong with speaking the truth. “I think that you are not fair to Lirah.” His brows drew together. “I don’t understand.” “It’s not fair for you to encourage Lirah when your heart is elsewhere.” He inhaled sharply. Kestrel thought that he might tell her it was no business of hers, for it was not, but then she saw that he wasn’t offended, only taken aback. He pulled up a chair in that possessive, natural way of his and sank into it, dropping the dress onto his knees. He studied her. She willed herself not to look away. “I hadn’t thought of Lirah like that.” Arin shook his head. “I’m not thinking clearly at all. I need to be more careful.” Kestrel supposed that she should feel reassured. Arin set the package on the divan where she sat. “A new dress means an event on the horizon.” “Yes, a dinner party. Lord Irex is hosting.” He frowned. “And you’re going?” She shrugged. “Do you need an escort?” Kestrel intended to say no, but became distracted by the determined set to Arin’s mouth. He looked almost…protective. She was surprised that he should look that way. She was confused, and perhaps this made her say, “To be honest, I would be glad for your company.” His eyes held hers. Then his gaze fell to the book by Kestrel’s side. Before she could stop him, he took it with a nimble hand and read the title. It was a Valorian history of its empire and wars. Arin’s face changed. He returned the book and left.

I'm unaccustomed to being cooped up all day-I really must insist that you permit me to enjoy a short walk." "Not on your life," Fletcher growled. From the sound, Breckenridge realized the group had moved closer to the tap. "You don't need to think you're going to give us the slip so easily," Fletcher said again. "My dear good man"-Heather with her nose in the air; Breckenridge could tell by her tone-"just where in this landscape of empty fields do you imagine I'm going to slip to?" Cobbins opined that she might try to steal a horse and ride off. "Oh,yes-in a round gown and evening slippers," Heather jeered. "But I wasn't suggesting you let me ramble on my own-Martha can come with me." That was Martha's cue to enter the fray, but Heather stuck to her guns, refusing to back down through the ensuing, increasingly heated verbal stoush. Until Fletcher intervened, aggravated frustration resonating in his voice. "Look you-we're under strict orders to keep you safe, not to let you wander off to fall prey to the first shiftless rake who rides past and takes a fancy to you." Silence reigned for half a minute, then Heather audibly sniffed. "I'll have you know that shiftless rakes know better than to take a fancy to me." Not true, Breckenridge thought, but that wasn't the startling information contained in Fletcher's outburst. "Come on, Heather-follow up." As if she'd heard his muttered exhortation, she blithely swept on. "But if rather than standing there arguing, you instead treated me like a sensible adult and told me what your so strict orders with respect to me were, I might see my way to complying-or at least to helping you comply with them." Breckenridge blinked as he sorted through that pronouncement; he could almost feel for Fletcher when he hissed out a sigh. "All right," Fletcher's frustration had reached breaking point. "If you must know, we're to keep you safe from all harm. We're not to let a bloody pigeon pluck so much as a hair from your head. We're to deliver you up in prime condition, exactly as you were when he grabbed you." From the change in Fletcher's tone, Breckenridge could visualize him moving closer to tower over Heather to intimidate her into backing down; he could have told him it wouldn't work. "So now you see," Fletcher went on, voice low and forceful, "that it's entirely out of the question for you to go out for any ramble." "Hmm." Heather's tone was tellingly mild. Fletcher was about to get floored by an uppercut. For once not being on the receiving end, Breckenridge grinned and waited for it to land. "If, as you say, your orders are to-do correct me if I'm wrong-keep me in my customary excellent health until you hand me over to your employer, then, my dear Fletcher, that will absolutely necessitate me going for a walk. Being cooped up all day in a carriage has never agreed with me-if you don't wish me to weaken or develop some unhealthy affliction, I will require fresh air and gentle exercise to recoup." She paused, then went on, her tone one of utmost reasonableness, "A short excursion along the river at the rear of the inn, and back, should restore my constitution." Breckenridge was certain he could hear Fletcher breathing in and out through clenched teeth. A fraught moment passed on, then, "Oh, very well! Martha-go with her. Twenty minutes, do you hear? Not a minute more." "Thank you, Fletcher. Come, Martha-we don't want to waste the light." Breckenridge heard Heather, with the rather slower Martha, leave the inn by the main door. He sipped his ale, waited. Eventually, Fletcher and Cobbins climbed the stairs, Cobbins grumbling, Fletcher ominously silent. The instant they passed out of hearing, Breckenridge stood, stretched, then walked out of the tap and into the foyer. Seconds later, he slipped out of the front door.

I’ve worn Niki’s pants for two days now. I thought a third day in the same clothes might be pushing it.” Ian shrugged with indifference. “It might send Derian through the roof, but it doesn’t bother me. Wear what you want to wear.” Eena wrinkled her nose at him. “Do you really feel that way or are you trying to appear more laissez-faire than Derian?” “More laissez-faire?” “Yes. That’s a real word.” “Two words actually,” he grinned. “Laissez faire et laissez passer, le monde va de lui même!" He coated the words with a heavy French accent. Eena gawked at him. “Since when do you speak French?” “I don’t.” Ian chuckled. “But I did do some research in world history the year I followed you around on Earth. Physics was a joke, but history—that I found fascinating.” Slapping a hand against her chest, Eena exclaimed, “I can’t believe it! Unbeknownst to me, Ian actually studied something in high school other than the library’s collection of sci-fi paperbacks!” He grimaced at her exaggerated performance before defending his preferred choice of reading material. “Hey, popular literature is a valuable and enlightening form of world history. You would know that if you read a book or two.” She ignored his reproach and asked with curiosity, “What exactly did you say?” “In French?” “Duh, yes.” “Don’t ‘duh’ me, you could easily have been referring to my remark about enlightening literature. I know the value of a good book is hard for you to comprehend.” He grinned crookedly at her look of offense and then moved into an English translation of his French quote. “Let it do and let it pass, the world goes on by itself.” “Hmm. And where did that saying come from?” Ian delivered his answer with a surprisingly straight face. “That is what the French Monarch said when his queen began dressing casually. The French revolution started one week following that famous declaration, right after the queen was beheaded by the rest of the aristocracy in her favorite pair of scroungy jeans.” “You are such a brazen-tongued liar!

Wanna hear something funny?” “What?” “I think I started liking you.” I go completely still. Then I pull my hand away from his, and I start to gather my hair into a ponytail, and then I remember I don’t have a hair tie. My heart is thudding in my chest and it’s hard to think all of a sudden. “Stop teasing.” “I’m not teasing. Why do you think I kissed you that day at McClaren’s house back in seventh grade? It’s why I went along with this thing in the first place. I’ve always thought you were cute.” My face feels hot. “In a quirky way.” Peter grins his perfect grin. “So? I guess I must like quirky, then.” Then he leads his head closer to mine, and I blurt out, “But aren’t you still in love with Genevieve?” Peter frowns. “Why are you always bringing up Gen? I’m trying to talk about us, and all you want to do is talk about her. Yeah, Gen and I have history. I’m always going to care about her.” He shrugs. “But now…I like you.” People are walking in and out of the lodge; a guy from school walks by and claps Peter on the shoulder. “What up,” Peter says. When he’s gone, Peter says to me, “So what do you say?” He’s looking at me expectantly. He’s expecting me to say yes. I want to say yes, but I don’t want to be with a boy whose heart belongs to somebody else. Just once, I want to be somebody’s first choice. “You might think you like me, but you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t still like her.” Peter shakes his head. “What Gen and I have is completely separate from you and me,” he says. “How can that be true when from the very first minute, this has been about Genevieve?” “That’s not fair,” he objects. “When we started this thing, you liked Sanderson.” “Not anymore.” I swallow hard. “But you still love Genevieve.” Frustrated, Peter backs away from me and runs his hands through his hair. “God, what makes you such an expert on love? You’ve liked five guys in your life. One was gay, one lives in Indiana or Montana or some place, McClaren moved away before anything could actually happen, one was dating your sister. And then there’s me. Hmm, what do we all have in common? What’s the common denominator?” I feel all the blood rush to my face. “That’s not fair.” Peter leans in close and says, “You only like guys you don’t have a shot with, because you’re scared. What are you so scared of?

Lesson one: Pack light unless you want to hump the eight around the mountains all day and night. By the time we reached Snowdonia National Park on Friday night it was dark, and with one young teacher as our escort, we all headed up into the mist. And in true Welsh fashion, it soon started to rain. When we reached where we were going to camp, by the edge of a small lake halfway up, it was past midnight and raining hard. We were all tired (from dragging the ridiculously overweight packs), and we put up the tents as quickly as we could. They were the old-style A-frame pegged tents, not known for their robustness in a Welsh winter gale, and sure enough by 3:00 A.M. the inevitable happened. Pop. One of the A-frame pegs supporting the apex of my tent broke, and half the tent sagged down onto us. Hmm, I thought. But both Watty and I were just too tired to get out and repair the first break, and instead we blindly hoped it would somehow just sort itself out. Lesson two: Tents don’t repair themselves, however tired you are, however much you wish they just would. Inevitably, the next peg broke, and before we knew it we were lying in a wet puddle of canvas, drenched to the skin, shivering, and truly miserable. The final key lesson learned that night was that when it comes to camping, a stitch in time saves nine; and time spent preparing a good camp is never wasted. The next day, we reached the top of Snowdon, wet, cold but exhilarated. My best memory was of lighting a pipe that I had borrowed off my grandfather, and smoking it with Watty, in a gale, behind the summit cairn, with the teacher joining in as well. It is part of what I learned from a young age to love about the mountains: They are great levelers. For me to be able to smoke a pipe with a teacher was priceless in my book, and was a firm indicator that mountains, and the bonds you create with people in the wild, are great things to seek in life. (Even better was the fact that the tobacco was homemade by Watty, and soaked in apple juice for aroma. This same apple juice was later brewed into cider by us, and it subsequently sent Chipper, one of the guys in our house, blind for twenty-four hours. Oops.) If people ask me today what I love about climbing mountains, the real answer isn’t adrenaline or personal achievement. Mountains are all about experiencing a shared bond that is hard to find in normal life. I love the fact that mountains make everyone’s clothes and hair go messy; I love the fact that they demand that you give of yourself, that they make you fight and struggle. They also induce people to loosen up, to belly laugh at silly things, and to be able to sit and be content staring at a sunset or a log fire. That sort of camaraderie creates wonderful bonds between people, and where there are bonds I have found that there is almost always strength.

8:00am The sun is shining, the cows are mooing, and I am ready for the mines. I hope I find something awesome today. Steve has told me about some pretty crazy things I had no idea existed. According to him, I must find empty tombs in the desert. That’s where the real treasures are. For today, I will stick to regular mining. Who knows, maybe I will come across an abandoned mine shaft; could be my lucky day.   12:30pm I was forced to come home for lunch today because I had too much stuff to carry. I was getting low on my iron ore, gold, and lapis lazuli stocks before this mine trip. It’s amazing how quick lapis goes when you are busy enchanting everything but the kitchen sink. I’d enchant that too if I had one. I wonder what an enchanted kitchen sink would do. Would it do my dishes for me? That would be so cool.   I have plenty of both now. I can make some new armor and enchant it! I love mining.   Steve decided to join me for lunch and we ate a couple of pork chops and some cake. I love cake! We ate until no more food could fill us up. Then, Steve had the guts to brag about how, when he mines, he takes a horse with extra storage so he can stay down there all day long. Well fancy you, Steve.   He also went on to tell me about how well the crops are doing these days. He thinks it’s because he is looking after them half of the time. What he doesn’t know is I throw bone marrow on them when I am working. Makes my job faster and gives me more free time so whatever you need to tell yourself, Steve.   Life may be easier switching every day between mines and farming, but it still doesn’t make me his biggest fan. I just don’t think he needs to fall in a hole, either. At least… Not right now. I would consider us to be frienemies; Friendly enemies. Yes. At times we pretend to get along, but most of the time, we are happiest doing our own thing.   6:00pm Mining this afternoon was super fun… Not! I got attacked by a partially hidden skeleton guy. I couldn’t see him enough to strike back until half of my life hearts were gone. I must not have made the space bright enough. Those guys are nasty. They are hard to kill too. If you don’t have a bow and arrow you might as well surrender. Plus, they kind of smell like death. Yuck.   Note to self: Bring more torches on the next mining day.   On the other hand, I came back with an overshare of Redstone, too much iron for my own good, and oddly, quite a few diamonds. I won’t be sharing the diamonds with anyone. They are far too precious. They will go to some new diamond pickaxes, and maybe some armor. Hmm, I could enchant those too! The iron and Redstone though, I am thinking a trip to the village may be in order. See what those up-tight weirdos are willing to trade me.   For now, it’s bedtime.   6:10pm You can only sleep at night. You can only sleep at night. You can only sleep at night.   6:11pm That stupid rule gets me every time. Why can’t I decide when it’s bed time?   First, I will go eat a cookie, then I will go to sleep. Day Thirty-Three   3:00am I just dreamt that our world was made of cookies.

Orion threw a grin back at me as headed to the bar, ducking behind it. “What would madam like?” he asked in a formal tone which was a damn good impression of the Acruxes' butler. I giggled hurrying over to take a stool in front of the bar and placing my clutch down, relishing the cool breeze against my burning neck. “Hmm...a Manhattan?” I teased and he cocked his head. “I'm afraid we're fresh out of bullshit, how about a white wine spritzer with a tiny umbrella in it?” I laughed, nodding eagerly as he made up my drink then poured himself a measure of bourbon. He held it out for me and I leaned across the bar to take it. As I took hold of the glass, he didn't let go and I gazed up at him under my lashes questioning why. “Have I told you have exceptionally beautiful you look tonight, Darcy?” Darcy. He'd said my name. For the first time ever. And why did it sound like so much more than a name when he spoke it? It was like he'd fired an arrow and it had punctured a flesh wound in me at the exact same moment. Hell. I needed to get over this guy. Why was I so caught up on him? Unavailable, that's what it was. We always want what we can't have and Professor Orion was off limits. Simple as that. And those muscles. And the beard. And the dark eyes. And the dimple. But that was it. “That's the first I've heard of it, Professor,” I whispered, unable to make my voice rise any louder. “Don't do that,” he grunted, releasing the drink. I eyed him curiously as he walked around the bar with his bourbon in hand. He took the stool beside mine, his arm butting up against me. “Do what?” I asked, swivelling around to face the pool and taking a sip of my spritzer. It fizzed on my tongue and sent a deep kick of heat through my chest. “You know what.” “You're very presumptuous, Orion. You think I'm far more aware of your chaotic way of thinking than I really am.” I sipped my drink again, spying on him from the corner of my eye. He took a swig of his own drink and the familiar waft of bourbon drifted over me, tingling my senses. It was becoming a trigger, like the moment I walked into his office and he uncorked a bottle, it made me want to taste it on his mouth. And then that led to me wondering whether his fangs would brush my tongue when we kissed, and that always led to me mentally undressing him, then me conjuring an image of what those muscles looked like beneath that shirt... “I have something for you,” he said and I turned, blinking out of my dark fantasy. “You do?” He nodded, reaching into his inside pocket and taking out my coil of blue hair. My heart combusted and a choked noise escaped me. I reached for it and he slid it onto my wrist. He kept my hand in his, his eyes downcast as they remained on the band of hair. “I want you to know, I believe you would have gotten this back yourself when you were ready. But I took a lot of pleasure in retrieving it for you all the same.” I stared at him in complete shock, unsure what to say, my tongue tied in knots. “But Fae don't fight battles for other Fae,” I blurted, completely astonished that his actions that day had been to take this back from Seth. For me. And nothing else. He finished his drink and planted the glass on the bar, rising to his feet. He didn't reply to what I'd said and I barely even remembered what it was as he started pulling his clothes off. “Err, what are you doing?” I half laughed as he shed his jacket and kicked off his shoes, pulling off his socks. Oh my god. “I hate parties, but I like swimming.” He started undoing the buttons of his shirt and thought his back was to me, I was still captivated as he dropped it to the floor like a silken sheet. My eyes scraped down his skin to where his muscles etched an upside down v into his lower back, disappearing beneath his waistband. His shoulders were tanned and heavenly broad, making me long to explore all of those muscles with my hands.(Darcy)

pranced to her cub's side. "Lucky!" she yelled. "How many times do I have to tell you to go home and stay with your siblings? You are a tiny lion cub, not a brave adventurer!" The mother lizard smiled up at Lucky. "Actually, I'm not so sure," she said. "This little cub travelled across the entire jungle and brought my lost baby home. That makes him the bravest, greatest adventurer this jungle has ever seen!" Lucky's mother's jaw dropped. She looked at the lizard. She looked at Lucky. Then she smiled. "You have proven me wrong. You really are a great adventurer! But a tiny cub like you, traveling across the entire jungle? How did you do it?" she asked. "Roar!" Lucky cried. He stood tall, puffed up his chest and said; "Because I am Lucky!" Lucky and Pec the parrot’s great adventure! The next day, Lucky was feeling especially brave. After all he saved a little lizard from the dangers of the jungle and brought him safely home. His mother was so proud of him that she didn't even punish him for not babysitting his brothers and sisters! She even gave him the best part of their meal for dinner. And he had permission to spend 2 hours in the jungle this very morning. But he had to stay close to home and come back in time to babysit his younger brother and sisters. "There is much adventuring to be done in just 2 hours!" he said to himself, as walked under the shady green canopy, following a path into the jungle. "But I am the bravest, greatest adventurer in the jungle. Watch out jungle! Here I come! Roooaaaar! “Suddenly he saw the tall grass to his right sway, but there wasn't any wind. The grass rustled as if someone was moving around. Lucky crouched down in his stalking pose that he had practiced as part of his adventure skills. He crept forward, his golden-green eyes wide and fixed on the swaying grass. Slowly, oh so slowly he moved closer and closer. He was right in front of the tall green grass, and heard the rustling again. "ROOOOOAAAARRR!" He burst through the grass with his very best roar and his very best pounce. "AAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK" screeched a large shiny grey parrot. "What is wrong with you?! It is extremely rude to just bust into a parrot's home without knocking! I swear, kids these days just don't have any manners!" The parrot shrieked right into Lucky's ear. "Owwww. Stop it! I am a brave adventurer and I am saving you!" Lucky snapped back, "It's also rude to yell in the ear of the lion saving your life" The parrot's head feathers stood up on the back of his head like he had a mohawk, and he glared at Lucky from piercing yellow eyes. "Lions are known to eat birds like me. I am not going to let my glorious self, become your breakfast. I am a mighty warrior and if you eat me, I will give you a very upset belly. I promise". Lucky laughed a barky lion laugh, "I do not eat birds. My mother is a great hunter and brings home only the biggest and fattest of animals for us to eat. Besides, I will be a great adventurer, the greatest and bravest in the jungle". Pec's shimmering grey head feathers slowly lowered. He shook his head, stuck his beak under his wing and looked at Lucky from the corner of his yellowish eye. "A brave adventurer, hmm? You look more like a little lion cub getting into mischief" he said as he brought his head from under his wing. “My name is Pec. What is yours?" he asked. "My name is Lucky and I don't get into mischief. Just yesterday I saved a lizard from a deep, scary crack in the ground. He could have died. I even took him home and it was a long ways away" Lucky said as proudly as he could after being squawked at by a big feathery bird. Pec's eyes twinkled at him and he opened his sharply hooked beak letting out a squeaky laugh. "I believe you, young Lucky. And, since you are so good at helping others, could you

Daleric rushed in and braced Arram's free side. "Arram, what's this?" He asked with concern. "You were fine when we left. " "Apparently Kottrun and his pack took Arram and the wounded as hostages," the captain explained. "They must have run mad to think Master Ramasu could walk them out of here. Our mages put sleep on them, but before it took, the boy made a fountain that smacked Kottrun silly and then dropped him." "Kottrun hit me in the head, too," Arram said cheerfully. His knees turned to water, and he sagged in the mages' grips. "But I'm fine. " Daleric raised his eyebrows. "No wonder you're wrung out, then," he told Arram. "Three days of serious healing, a clout on the head, and whatever you just did on top of it. Don't tell me you're fine." "I am," Arram protested. "Mm-hmm," Daleric said dubiously.

Jackson?” “Hmm?” “Can I tell you something and will you promise not to get mad or make me feel bad or irresponsible or reckless?” “You’re pregnant?” “What?” She sat up resting on her elbow, giving him a scrunched-face expression. “I’m having my period.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t convinced if that’s what it was for sure since a few days ago you accused me of trying to ‘break your vagina.’” She jabbed him in the side with her fist. He chuckled. “It’s not funny. A few times I wondered if you were going to rip me straight up the middle in two. You’ve been weird … even kind of angry. That’s it … it’s felt like angry sex. Not even sex at times, more like just effing.” “Effing?” “Yes, fucking,” she whispered. He roared a big laugh that only turned her face true crimson. “Why…” he tried to catch his breath through his laughter “…are you whispering? Are you worried about Gunner hearing you or God? Because I’m quite certain that dog has already told me to back the fuck away from you in more than one language, and I know you haven’t been to church in a while, but as far as I know, God can still read minds.” “Well excuse me, Mr. Vulgar, I didn’t grow up using explicit language, and I had a baby before I had a chance to sow any wild oats and making a habit of using the F-word as an adjective and adverb to every single word in the English language. Don’t people realize it starts to lose its effect after a while? It’s like putting an explanation point at the end of every sentence. ‘I’m going to wake the F up tomorrow and roll the F out of my effing bed, and take an effing hot shower before I effing eat an effing bowl of cereal. Then I’m going to get the F going to my first effing job, then meet my effing amazing boyfriend for an effing good lunch, and then if I’m done with my effing period we might F a few times until we’re effing exhausted.’” Jackson’s body vibrated with laughter. “Am I the ‘effing amazing boyfriend’ in your little story?” Ryn kissed along his chest, following the lines of ink. “Maybe.” “Maybe, huh? I can work with that. So before you went off on your effing tangent, what were you going to tell me?

yesterday. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face you.” “Shhh, it’s fine,” I said soothingly. “Neither of us was in any shape to talk. You did the most important things.” After a brief pause, I added, “You spoke to her?” “Mm hmm,” said Irene, the pitch of her reply rising as she tried to keep from crying. Neither of us could go on, so we sat silently for a short time, and then we stood up and brushed ourselves off. Words could come later, when they weren’t so damned hard to say. The sun was up, and I could hear the sounds of people moving around outside. Another day of hard labor was already in progress. I hadn’t lowered the shield the night before because there hadn’t been much point with everyone asleep. Plus, I had felt safer sleeping with it active. I remedied that now, testing the new links between the repaired pedestal

Hmm.” Hell, he’d lost his voice. Maybe his capacity for thought. They were headed where his body had wanted her since the day they met. Blood surged to his groin, leaving his brain defenseless. “What’s that?” She rubbed a finger across his lower lip. “Do I make you nervous?” She threw off his equilibrium, but he could work with that since he was trained to adapt to new and dangerous situations. He licked his lips, letting his tongue brush the finger she still pressed against him. “I can handle you.” “Oh, sweetheart, I doubt it.

You fought with Rissa?” Brianne’s voice was indignant. “It’s all in the past,” he assured her. “We made up.” “Did you kiss and make up?” Brianne was teasing him. I still blushed. “Hmm, no…didn’t know that was an option,” he teased back. “Daddy…” Brianne’s voice lifted with uncertainty. “Will you marry Rissa?” I did gasp this time and slapped a hand over my mouth. “Bedtime,” he announced. “Daddy!” “No more questions tonight. You had a busy day and it’s time to get some sleep.

What were you looking for over here?” Jim asked again. “I wonder if you can exorcise hands…hmm? Oh, where on the wall was that place I sent you through before. Do you remember?” Jim shook its head. “Why are you looking for that particular spot? It have fond memories for you or something?” “Hardly. You told me that it was easier to tear the fabric of existence in a spot where it had previously been rent. And I know I sent you through it from this room, but I don’t remember where, exactly.” I glanced at the clock on the mantel, leaping to my feet when I saw the time. “Oh my god. Oh my god! Tell me that clock isn’t right!” “That clock isn’t right.” Relief made me sag a bit as I dug through my purse looking for my cell phone. “Thank god. I was worried there for a minute that I’d missed the wedding.” “You have,” Jim said complacently, snuffling around behind the fainting couch. “What? You just told me the clock was wrong!” “Yuh-uh. And who ordered me to tell her that?” “Gah!” I screamed, punching a speed-dial number into the phone. “Talk about your day from hell…Jim, look around and find the weak spot. I’m not going to let something like a deranged Guardian ruin my day.” “Sooo many things I could say to that,” Jim said, shaking its head. “I’ll confine myself to pointing out that even if I found the spot, it wouldn’t do you any good.” “It wouldn’t? Why not?” Inside my head, a dark, sinuous voice whistled a peppy little tune. I ground my teeth. “Don’t tell me—I’d have to use the dark power in order to push us through.” “Yup.” Smirk. “Bloody he—Drake!” “Aisling?” I held the phone away from my ear at the sound of Drake’s roar. “Hi, sweetie. Um. I guess we’re even on the whole jilting-at-the-altar thing, huh?” “Where are you? Where have you been? Why have you not answered my calls?” Drake growled. “Rene and your uncle said you just disappeared on the street. Have you been harmed?” “I’m fine. Jim’s here with me. I’m in…er…oh, hell.” “Abaddon,” Jim corrected.

Soy milk and two sugars." Just this past week, Rachel had become convinced that how people took their coffee gave some secret insight into their characters. Were people who took their coffee black unyielding? Did people who liked their coffee with milk and no sugar have mother issues? She had a notebook behind the coffee counter in which she wrote her findings. Willa decided to keep her on her toes by making up a different request every day. Rachel walked back to the coffee bar to write that down in her notebook. "Hmm, interesting," she said seriously, as if it made all the sense in the world, as if she'd finally figured Willa out. "You don't believe in ghosts, but you do believe that how I take my coffee says something about my personality?" "That's superstition. This is science.

shit-stirring instead of open-ended. “Hmm.” I rub the back of my neck. “I think love is about happiness and sacrifice. Compromising instead of arguing. Having someone who is always there for you even when you don’t deserve it. Loving someone means you want to spend the rest of your life with them, on the good days and the bad days and everything in between.

What's your favorite spice?" "Hmm... It changes all the time." I dug around in my box. "I found a blend the other day I really liked. Feast has no cultural root, but even so, I never cook Indian, so I don't come across this every day." I pulled out a pouch and opened it for him. "I like that." He sniffed again. "I think it reflects my mood lately. It's a regional blend called Garam Masala, so you can find endless permutations, but they're all earthy, subdued, almost sad---a mixture of peppercorns, cloves, cinnamon, black-and-white cumin seeds, and black, brown, and green cardamom pods. This is the brightest iteration I've found. It pushes the green cardamom more and has a fresh kick at the end. Maybe that's what I want to happen in me." "I like the fresh kick.

Oh, right. I’d decided it’d be a pain to explain away the ten thousand monsters I’d slayed back in the day, so I’d told her about my bear storage. “It’s an item bag better than any other?” Luimin looked at Kumayuru, Kumakyu, my bear house, and my bear puppet. Finally, her eyes finally settled on me. “Just what are you, Yuna?” Uh. Hmm…how could I even answer that? “I’m just your everyday adventurer.” I tried to play it off all cool and urged them to go into the bear house. They didn’t seem to buy it, but at least they didn’t pry anymore.

Taking a swig of the wine as she parts her perfect lips, I dip and funnel the wine from my mouth into hers, the “hmm” in her throat fueling me.

Hmm, that setup smelled fishier than a barrel of patis left out on a summer day.

Sardines have been considered a low-grade fish since the old days. Unlike sea bream, left-eyed flounder and sweetfish, they're never used in first-class restaurants. They've always been used as fertilizer in the fields or food for fish farms. People treat them as the lowest fish there is." "Hmm..." "Recently the size of the sardine catch has decreased, so people have begun to value them. But the chef here has been making sardine dishes since back when people thought of them as worthless. You could almost say the chef here... ... has staked his life on this fish. This place may seem shabby compared to a luxurious ryōtei that takes pride in using expensive ingredients... But the food here is sincere and earnest. This restaurant is far more attractive to me than the average first-class ryōtei. It may look shabby, but his spirit is noble. That's because the chef believed in himself and created this place from scratch by his own effort.

Here’s an intervention that’s aimed at shame detection and reduction: “Hmm . . . it’s hard to find your ‘I’m sorry’ voice. I have times like that too. I’ll use it for you before you find it again.” Then you, the parent, go to your other child and say, “I’m sorry I took your lovie. I know that was upsetting. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” And then—and this is key—no dart eyes, no lecture, no “See, that was easy!” Just trust—yes, TRUST—that this sank in and move on. Maybe later in the day, when you see that shame is no longer present (you’ll notice because your child is back to her playful self), you can say something like, “Apologizing is hard. It’s even hard for me and I’m an adult!

Step 4: Engage your child to problem-solve with you. Offer “leading” ideas, but allow your child to experience the aha moment of brainstorming a coping mechanism. Resist the urge to explain the fear away or solve the problem on your own. Phrases like “I wonder” and “I’m thinking about” help engage your child in problem-solving. It might sound like this: “Hmm . . . I’m wondering if we can go to the basement and start going down the stairs one at a time . . . let me know when the scary feeling starts and when it feels like it’s getting bigger.” As you inquire about the fear in this way, you infuse your parental presence into the moment, and as your child feels less alone in her fear, it won’t hold such a strong grip. Next, maybe say, “I wonder what you could say to yourself as you go down one of the stairs . . .” Or maybe you suggest a solution like, “I’m thinking about practicing going down one stair now, then in a few days maybe another stair, and the next day a few more . . . hmm . . .” Step 5: Create a mantra. For kids who struggle with anxiety, mantras can be very helpful in the moment. Whether spoken out loud or recited internally, a mantra focuses their attention on the calming words rather than the source of distress. Examples of mantras include, “It’s okay to be nervous. I can get through this,” “I can feel scared and brave at the same time,” and “I’m safe, my parents are near.” Work with your child to develop a mantra that feels good to them and encourage them to repeat it during scary moments. Step 6: Share a “slowly coping with a fear” story. Yours might sound like: “This reminds me of when I was about your age, and I was scared of dogs. I still remember how bad those moments felt in my body.” Do not offer a quick fix like, “But then I realized that I was safe and it was okay.” Instead offer a story of slow coping, something like: “I remember talking to my dad about it, and realizing it was okay to feel scared. I remember that my dad and I would read a lot about dogs, then I’d start to walk closer to dogs with him. And then one day, my dad helped me touch a dog. Little by little, dogs felt less scary. It was such hard work to be brave when I was feeling scared!

Sardine sashimi. It tastes better when you eat it with ginger instead of wasabi." "Look at the shine on that skin! These sardines are fresh!" "They're small but fatty." "And they don't smell fishy at all. As a matter of fact, they have a nice scent." "Marinated sardines. You half-dry the sardine with the backbone still in it, and then marinate it in vinegar. Then you add small amounts of sugar, soy sauce and chopped red chili... ...and leave it in the refrigerator for a day." "Hmm... it feels nice biting into the firm flesh." "The spicy and sour flavor goes well with the fatty sardine." "Fried sardine fish cakes. You mash the sardines after removing the head and the organs, add chopped spring onions, ginger juice and salt for the flavoring... ... then make them into an oval shape and deep-fry them." "It's very crisp, and it must be nutritious since the bones have been mashed inside it too.

This is an eel roll-up skewer. It's thinly sliced eel meat wrapped around a skewer." "What do you mean by the eel meat?" "Take a look at the diagram behind you." "Hmm! It's been separated into so many different parts! It's soft, meaty and fatty... I can enjoy the flavor of the eel to the fullest!" "I must say... this skewer tastes good." "The taste of the eel is a lot richer since it hasn't been steamed like a Tokyo-style kabayaki! And it's a lot more soft and succulent than the kansai-style kabayaki!" "It's the very essence of the eel's flavor." "This is the liver. I can only get one liver out of an eel, so I can only provide the customers with a limited amount each day." "Oh, but isn't the liver the guts?" Ah, look at the diagram. At my place, the liver is one specific part while the guts are the whole thing." "Ooh, I see. That's what it means." "Animal guts have a distinct smell to them. But the eel liver has no smell at all!" "Unlike an ordinary liver skewer... I've taken out the gall bladder, so it's not bitter. Next come the grilled ribs. The ribs are the abdominal bones in the eel that you get rid of when making kabayaki. I skewer and grill them.

Pinch that little cheek of yours,’ he said as if he’d known me for years. ‘You don’t need someone else to tell you what to do or who to be. You’re your own mother now. You have to listen to what you want.’ ‘Hmm,’ I managed again. ‘And for every day for the rest of your life, I want you to take that job seriously.

This is the skin and fat of the salmon's stomach!" "The skin is crisp, and when you bite on it the sweet fat comes seeping out..." "A long time ago, there was a lord of a large clan in the Hokuriku area who just loved to eat salmon. That lord especially liked to eat salmon skin, but salmon skin is very thin. Even if you had all the skin of a salmon, it still didn't satisfy him. So one day he said, if there was a salmon with a skin that was one foot thick, he'd be willing to exchange it with ten square miles of land... That is how good the skin of a salmon is. And the meat of a salmon with a lot of fat in it is exceptionally good too. This dish has grilled just those two best parts of it. First, you cut off the dark meat from the belly meat. Then you sprinkle salt onto the skin and the meat and refrigerate for two to three hours. After that, you grill it over charcoal. Being careful not to tear the skin, you roll the skin around the belly meat and pin it with a toothpick; this one is the salted one. On the other hand, this one hasn't been salted; instead, it's been marinated in soy sauce and sake overnight." "Hmm... he used the best part of a salmon and grilled it with salt or with teriyaki sauce." "You can't really call this a proper dish at first glance, but its flavor is definitely supreme!

Hmm…Righteous Anger…that’s not something you see every day in a Dungeon Core.  Or ever, for that matter. If you’re indeed telling the truth, you shouldn’t even be here.  The Creator only makes contracts with those that deserve to be imprisoned in a Core – like murderers and rapists.  Also, while female Dungeon Cores aren’t exactly unknown, they are few and far between.

After sliding into a pair of pantyhose, I slip my feet into a pair of black Jimmy Choo stiletto pumps. It’s only after I’ve got them on my feet that I notice Nate is watching me, his brown tie hanging loose around his neck. “Eve,” he says. I already know what he’s going to say, and I’m hoping he won’t say it. “Hmm?” “Are those new shoes?” “These?” I don’t lift my eyes. “No. These are years old. In fact, I think I wore them on the first day of school last year.” “Oh. Okay…

Hmm, Sean, how much do you have on you?” Sean answers instantly. “Around three hundred and change.” I turn to Ginger. “Ginger? What about you? How much is in your wallet?” “I just filled up, so around forty dollars. Why?” “Because only a loser without a care in the fucking world is unaware of how much money they have in their pocket, and that’s because they’re content with someone else doing all the heavy lifting.

Hmm in definitely extra something. I'll take a pen and pad, macintosh operating system and over possessing any day here. Having a good time, to get that big, big, big, with all the lightweight stuff coming and glory be.

She shoved me out of the bed! The realization hit him as hard as the floor. His feline grace failed him. Far from hanging its head in shame, his inner lion rolled in mirth, tufted tail practically wagging. Not funny. Except it was. He had a feeling this more assertive side of Arabella was his fault. Since the moment they’d met, he’d encouraged her to not take any shit, and apparently she’d decided to start with him. Dammit. When he’d told her to not let the world stomp all over her, he should have specified his exemption. I’m her mate. Isn’t there a rule that says she can’t kick me out of bed? Except she’d yet to realize what he had. Was it only a day ago since his life changed? Not even. At this rate, he’d be picking out fucking China patterns by noon. Completely emasculated and by a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. Flipping to his knees, he sat up and rested his chin on the mattress. Arabella faced him, eyes wary, breathing shallow as she waited for his reaction. More like she waited to see if he’d explode. She’d learn. Hayder would never harm her, but he would use his infamous kitty-cat eyes against her. He stared. You know you want me. You know you need me. Come on, baby. Melt. Melt for your lion. She stared right back. Hmm, this wasn’t working as planned. He let the left side of his lip curl into a grin, tugging his cheek and popping his infamous dimple. “I know what you’re doing.” “What?” “Trying to manipulate me into letting you back into bed.” “Is it working?” For a moment her expression shifted, a quick flip of emotions as she struggled to answer. “Yes it’s working. But I wish it wasn’t.” “Why? Why fight it?” “Because I think I need time.” It turned out there was something more powerful than his dimple. Her honesty. He groaned. “I think you were sent to kill me. Fine. If you insist, I’ll respect you even if I’d rather debauch you.” Her eyes widened. “Respect doesn’t mean I’m going to lie, baby. I want you. Bad. But I’ll listen to what you want. For now.” And, yes, he said it ominously. Let her think about it. Think about him. Soon even she wouldn’t be able to deny they were meant for each other. He stood, all six foot plus naked feet of him. And, yes, that did put a certain part of his anatomy in perfect view of a certain shocked gaze. A sucked-in breath, cheeks that darkened, a certain awareness sizzling between them. She couldn’t hope to hide her pleasure or interest in what she saw. “Sweet dreams, baby.” He winked and then turned, resisting an urge to catch her staring at his ass. He knew she was. He could feel the crazy heat as she traced his path out of the room. Go back. Want to snuggle. His lion couldn’t understand why they were back in the living room with its cramped couch that wouldn’t allow him to stretch out. Why couldn’t they snuggle in the nice warm bed and, even better, cuddle with a nice warm mate? Respect, my furry friend. A lion had no use for respect though. His worldview was much simpler. Ours. Bed. Hungry. Not hungry for a steak but, rather, a sweet, creamy pie. Hayder groaned. No need to keep reminding him of what he was missing. He knew. He hated it, but her wants had to take precedence over his. Argh.

No, I am stating a fact. Find some other gullible bitch to bite, fuck and fetch your slippers.” Javier’s laughter washed over her in a warm wave she enjoyed way too much. Fuming that they wouldn’t take her seriously, she clamped her lips shut as the overgrown cat carried her into her home. He finally set her down on her couch, but then instead of leaving, Ethan sat in the chair opposite her while Javier wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?” she asked with a pointed stare toward the door. A shrug from massive shoulders answered her. “Make me.” “Ooh,” she almost shrieked in exasperation. Only the pulsing of her painful head held her back. “Why are you both being so stubborn? Can’t you tell you’re not wanted?” “My mama said the same thing to my dad when they first met,” Ethan admitted. “Not liking her answer, he tossed her over his shoulder and kept her prisoner in a cave for two weeks, making love to her numerous times a day until she finally admitted she loved him, too,” he added with a smug grin. Naomi’s jaw dropped and her throat worked soundlessly for a moment. “You wouldn’t dare!” Her mouth said one thing, her pussy, drenching at his words, screamed another. “Well, as you’ve mentioned a few times, I’m probably too dumb to know better. Although, don’t worry, because of the lacrosse season, maybe I’ll just handcuff you to a bed instead of finding a cave.” “My family won’t stand for it!” “Children, children,” Javier chided returning to them holding two open beers, and one tall glass of juice. “Can’t we all get along? After all, since our beasts have seen fit to join us in a ménage, we’ll be together a long, long time.” “Over my dead body,” she growled. “Not dead, but gagged can definitely be arranged,” Ethan grumbled. “Hmm, a little kinky, but I’m not averse to the idea,” Javier added.

Hmm. You know, nobody gives me the time, either. I have to make the time, set priorities, discipline myself to get my writing done each day, no matter how tired I am. I worked a full-time regular job while I wrote my first novels, scraping out an hour here or there in evenings and weekends. That’s how I’ve become a successful author.

I believe Granny raised me just as much as my mom and dad did. It was a great life for a kid. And thanks to Granny and Pa, I will always remember Wednesdays as Pa’s bath day. For some reason Pa hated taking baths. “Pa,” Granny would say, “it’s Wednesday. Get in here and get your bath.” “Hmm…well, if it’s Wednesday, I’ll take it.” Smart man. He knew better than to mess with Granny.

All of us sat at the kitchen table and dug in. Someone thanked Laadan for the meal and Deacon about had a coronary. “Who tenderized the meat? Who marinated and watched it dutifully?” His blond brows lowered as he held his fork like Luke held a dagger. “That would be me” Laadan nodded. “I peeled potatoes. That was about it.” “I didn’t know you could cook,” I said, surprised. Freshly showered, Aiden dropped into the seat beside his brother. His dark hair was damp and swept back, revealing his broad cheekbones. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Deacon is one hell of a cook.” “Hmm.” Olivia grinned as she chased a scalloped potato across her plate. “Learn something new every day, right?

Do you--should you radio…anyone?” he said, gasping slightly when she nipped at one nipple through his shirt. “Mm--hmm,” she murmured, leaving a trail along the side of his chin with her tongue. He turned her around inside the blanket so her back was to him, then tugged her up against him, sliding his arms around her waist and keeping the blanket around them, the opening now in front of her. He leaned down and gently bit the side of her neck, then whispered, “Well, you might want to take care of that right swift, luv, because you’re about to be ravaged.” She moaned when he nipped her, wriggling a little, giving a delightful giggle at the last part, which made him grin. Kerry wasn’t typically a giggler. He now had a vested interest in seeing her become one. She’d clearly let go of all the worry, the tension, the fears about what might happen, and was doing exactly what he was doing: grabbing on to what they had right now and leaving the future to settle itself. “Ravaged, am I?” she said, tipping her head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “Are we playing pirate on the high seas, then?” “Aye, my saucy seafaring wench, ’tis true. I’ve boarded yer lovely vessel to see what treasures you have worth pillaging.” He leaned down, nipped her earlobe, then tugged the blanket so it snugged tightly over her breasts as he tucked her backside against his hips. “It appears I’ll need to board yer personal vessel to discover all your riches.” She laughed at that outright, then wiggled against him quite deliberately, making him grit his teeth. “Careful now, wench, or you’ll be spilling my doubloons all over the deck.” She let out a choked laugh at that, then bumped him back with her hips, and it was his turn to groan as her firm derrière came into contact with an even firmer part of him. “Why don’t you and your doubloons go on belowdeck so I can catch my breath long enough to send out an all’s-okay to Thomas without him thinking I’m doing what I’m about to be doing? It was mortifying enough to have to brazen it out in front of him when I showed up in this--what was it you called it? A glorified napkin? I’ve always thought of him as kind of a secondary grandfather. I’m not sure which of us was more in danger of that heart attack.” She glanced over her shoulder with a dry smile. “I think my femme fatale days are over.” “Oh,” he said, tossing the blanket toward a side bin so he could run his flat palms down the center of her back, then frame the swell of her hips, which were tightly wrapped in that glorified napkin. “I don’t know about that,” he said in all sincerity. “At least the fatale part.

It’s over between them.” “Seriously?” Jake shrugged. “She didn’t give me the details, but the ring’s gone, and she said it was over.” “Is she upset?” “Doesn’t seem to be.” That was good, right? “Hmm.” Wyatt handed him a plate. “You gonna make your move now?” Jake elbowed Wyatt in the ribs. “She just broke her engagement.” “Or he did.” Jake frowned. “I prefer to think of it the other way.” Wyatt shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t sound too distressed. Hey, maybe she broke up because she has the hots for you.” “Shut up.” The thought was too ludicrous to entertain. Meridith might be attracted to him, but that was a far cry from what Wyatt suggested. “It’s about the kids,” Jake said. “I’m sure of it. They spent the day together yesterday, and Max told me that Ben puked on Stephen.” Wyatt laughed. “Classic!” “Yeah, I enjoyed that little tidbit.” He was surprised the man hadn’t gone running home the day before. From what Max said, Stephen hadn’t been very friendly. They washed and dried in silence for a minute, and Jake’s thoughts turned to Meridith. She’d told him the engagement was broken so matter-of-factly. How could she love the guy and react so calmly? “You know,” Wyatt said, pulling him from his thoughts. “It’s pretty remarkable, what she’s doing. Not every chick would take on three kids at the expense of her engagement.” Wyatt was right, and it only deepened his feelings for Meridith. He hated that she was planning to take the children away, but there was no doubt she cared about them. And his suspicions about the bipolar illness had all but disappeared. He’d found no medications, seen no symptoms. “You guys would make a cute couple,” Wyatt said. “You could get married and have a ready-made family.” “You’re forgetting one little detail.” “Ah, yeah. You’re the uncle she called—what was it—self-absorbed and irresponsible?” Jake scowled and grabbed the plate from Wyatt. “So tell her the truth.” “Yeah, right. That’ll go over well.” She’d be furious. She’d kick him from Summer Place and might not let him see the kids anymore. His gut clenched. “Gotta tell her eventually.” “When the house is finished.” “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.” “Maybe not.” Maybe he could change her mind about staying. Maybe he could make her see that he cared for her. Maybe they really could be a family.

You’re such an ass.” I growled and took another step back, “I just don’t understand why we can’t be friends all the time. I don’t want to be your friend on Sunday and the girl you don’t acknowledge every other day of the week. I want the same thing every day. So you decide what that is and let me know.” I moved to walk around him, but he put his arm up against the wall of the hallway, blocking me in. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.” “Tell you what?” “I feel like I’m just one in a group of Harper’s many guys, but I’m not getting the benefits. So tell me, if I act like your friend, will I get to fuck you too?” My fist was aiming straight for that perfectly shaped nose but Chase was slammed into the wall before I could connect. Brandon’s forearm was pressed against Chase’s throat and his tan face was turning red with anger. “What the hell did you just say to her?” He growled and pressed Chase harder into the wall. Chase’s only response was to spit in Brandon’s face. Brandon’s other hand grabbed Chase’s shirt to bring him forward while the arm that had been against his throat delivered a hard blow to Chase’s stomach. Chase swung and hit the wall when Brandon moved, but he’d moved right into Chase’s left hook. I started yelling at them to stop and somehow they ended up on the floor with Chase on top. Just as the other housemates came out of their rooms, Brandon knocked Chase’s head to the side and Chase spit again on Brandon’s face, this time it was full of blood. “Shit, again?” Brad huffed as he ran past me and grabbed Chase’s arms to pin them back. Derek kept Brandon on the floor while Zach helped Brad haul Chase towards a hall on the opposite side of the living room. “Holy Crap Princess,” Drew slung his arm around my shoulders and I shook it off, “you really drive guys crazy don’t you? This has been the most entertaining two months we’ve ever had in this house, and it all seems to come back to you.” “Drew.” “Yeah Princess?” “If you want to have kids at some point in life, I suggest you leave.” He tsked at me, but wisely moved away, “So touchy. Hey B, you uh, got a little something on your face.” “I’m about to let him up.” Derek warned and Drew took off for the back yard. As soon as Derek let go, Brandon was up and stalking toward his bathroom, not saying a word to me. Derek handed me Brandon’s back pack and nodded toward his bedroom. “Wait for him in there, I’m gonna go talk to him though I’m positive I already know what he’s gonna say. Just give him a few minutes, and Harper?” “Hmm?” “Stay away from Chase. It’ll make all of this a lot easier.” I

She walked to a nearby bench piled high with shoes and outerwear, sat down, and unlaced her skates. Gabe’s gaze focused on her foot, and for a moment he was back in the basement with his hands on her leg. “So what brings you to Hummingbird this early in the day?” she asked. Distracted, he said, “Hmm?” “If you didn’t come to skate, are you here to go ice fishing?” “Oh.” He shook his head. “No. I was just taking the long way to work. It’s a pretty morning. Beautiful.” Beautiful. She was beautiful, with her cheeks rosy, her blue eyes sparkling, and her blond ponytail sliding like silk over her shoulders. Her petite but lush curves were on glorious display in the tight-fitting clothes. His fingers itched to reach out and touch. His