Ms Rachel Quotes

Cal stepped forward, hopefully to come to my rescue. "I could toss her off the pier, Ms. Vanderlyden." Or not.

You know, Ms. Morgan, that was your mother you just hammered," Mr. Solomon said.

I wasn't interrupting," I interrupted, and Ms. East's mouth tilted down ever farther, which meant I'd just crossed into the land of Royally Screwed.

Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.

Take his name. Because I love him. Because when I look into his eyes, nothing else exists but him. Because even when I don’t look into his eyes, nothing else exists but him.--rachels thought

Excuse me, Ms. Matthews; you are going to be late for class if you don’t get going. Can you read the map, or are you already lost?” the stern voice of the secretary pulled me out of my stupor. “Um, no, I can read,” I said, sheepishly, still unable to take my eyes off the mysterious boy staring back. “Of course, you can read,” she said sharply, snapping my entranced head back to reality. “Now, get to class.

So, more often than not, she curled up with a book and read about fictional characters falling in love instead of putting herself out there.

Now.Go all the way into the pond." "Um...how,exactly?" I was afraid she was going to make me hop out into the water until it was over my head, an image too mortifying to even contemplate. Cal stepped forward, hopefully to come to my rescue. "I could toss her off the pier, Ms. Vanderlyden." Or not. "Good," the Vandy said with a brisk nod, like that had been her plan all along. Then Cal leaned down and swept me into his arms. There were more giggles, and even a few sighs. I knew most girls would give up a vital organ for Cal to hold them, but my face flamed red. I wasn't sure this was any less embarrassing than flopping out into the pond on my own.

Books spoke to her on a soul-deep level. They had the power to change lives when someone saw themselves represented on the page for the first time, and nothing made her happier than helping a customer find that connection.

Never trust your fears. They don't know your strength.

And right now, you’re having too much fun flirting with her on Twitter,” Lia teased. “It’s chatting, not flirting,

Rosie balanced on her toes as she placed the yellow book on the shelf. “I’d date Ms. Maybe to find out if she could be Ms. Right, but not if I already know she’s wrong for me.

What’s the point of wasting my time with the wrong person?” Rosie wouldn’t apologize for being picky about who she dated. “Because sometimes you have to date Ms. Wrong to find Ms. Right,” Lia said.

Sang did this for me. He told them about his research before he wanted to so I wouldn’t be the only one who was vulnerable today. So I wouldn’t be alone. It makes me want to wrap him in my arms right here, right this second, in front of Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows.

Ms. Doman had this whole thing about how we have to tell stories about whatever happens to us, and then we can use those stories to decide whether out lives are happy or not, whether events have redeeming aspects or are totally hopeless, that it's really all about how we choose to shape and name things.

I take a deep breath and try to relax. “My Sun, Clara, get your shit together,” Paige says out of the side of her mouth. “Are you this much of a mess when he trains with you?” “Ms. Lexington, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Mr. Mendez asks as I die from embarrassment. “No, sir,” Paige says.

Why do you think Lara is Lara Casnoff, and Mrs. Casnoff is Mrs. Casnoff?” Elodie whispered as she worked her magic on the enchanted door. “It’s her family name, right? So shouldn’t she be Miss Casnoff? Or Ms.?” Of all the things to wonder about, that’s what you’re focused on? Her marital status? “It’s weird, that’s all I’m saying,” she hissed in reply. You know you can talk to me in my head, right? You don’t have to talk out loud and make everyone think I’m a crazy person. Just FYI. “The only time I can talk is when I’m in your body, so sue me, I’m taking advantage of that.” Before we could snipe at each other anymore, the door suddenly gave way. Pushing it open, Elodie dashed inside, closing the door behind her. Lara Casnoff’s office was the total opposite of Mrs. Casnoff’s, complete with soaring bookcases and a heavy wooden desk so brightly polished that I could see myself in it. “Any idea on where we should start?” Elodie whispered. The desk, I finally said. It’ll be locked, and if it’s anything like Mrs. Casnoff’s desk, magic won’t work on it. There’s a nail in my pocket. Get it out, and I’ll talk you through jimmying the lock. Elodie’s disdain flooded over me, but she got the nail and went to work on the lock. “Were you a burglar in the real world?” she muttered as she worked.

I was afraid she was going to make me hop out into the water until it was over my head, an image too mortifying to even contemplate. Cal stepped forward, hopefully to come to my rescue. “I could toss her off the pier, Ms. Vanderlyden.” Or not. Hawkins, Rachel (2011-03-01). Demonglass (Hex Hall Book 2) (p. 3). Disney. Kindle Edition.

Her heart was a delicate thing. Instead of toughening her up, each loss or heartbreak only seemed to make her more fragile.

I’m sorry it had to be this way.” “You could change your mind.

CHAPTER THREE

Too many people go through life without taking time to appreciate the little things that bring them joy.

A single boot dangled loosely from his hand, and once in front of Rachel he raised it high above the table top and let go. It struck the beautifully polished oak with a resounding thunk, sending a puff of dust into the filtered air of the boardroom and scattering a residue of dried mud and gravel across the table. "Yours, I believe, Ms. Jennings-Porter," he said, charmingly straight-faced.

I want them to come get us right now.” The little girl drew her mouth down in a pout. “I’m all dirty and hungry. I’m cold too.” “Poor little princess,” her brother mocked. “I’ve got something you can eat.” Kobie’s smile brightened before he dashed across the small clearing to retrieve his backpack. “Just how long are we going to be stuck here?” Wade demanded. He took a step toward the others who were gathered around the fire, then coughed as a wave of thick smoke hit him. “I have important business in Chicago.” “Oh yeah, real important,” Bryan sneered. “You’re just afraid your girlfriend might find someone else before you get back.” “Bryan!” Chelsea spoke in a warning voice. Wade took a step toward his son, his fists clenched and fury showing on his face. Web shifted his weight, prepared to intercede should Wade attempt to strike his son. “Look! M&Ms!” Kobie stepped between the combatants, waving a large package of the candy-coated chocolate pieces over his head, oblivious to the confrontation between Bryan and Wade. He hurried to Rachel’s side. “My grandma gave them to me, but you can have some.” “Perhaps you can share with everyone,” Shalise said. “I think we’re all hungry.” “And thirsty,” Emily added. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that we spent all that time and effort escaping water, and now we don’t have any to drink?” “Actually we do.” It was Cassie’s turn to retrieve her backpack. From its depths she produced a plastic bottle of water and three granola bars, which she quartered and passed around. The tiny squares of breakfast bars and a handful of candy were soon washed down with a squirt of water from the plastic bottle. Web listened for more planes as he munched on his share of the meager rations. Occasionally he caught the drone of the small plane that had flown over earlier, but it seemed to be concentrating its attention on the other side of the main canyon. He wished he could communicate with the sheriff or the pilot of that plane, but his radio and supplies had been left behind in his cruiser. He wouldn’t even have been able to light a fire last night if Bryan hadn’t slipped him a cigarette lighter when his mother wasn’t looking. Gage walked up beside him.“How bad is the slide?” the younger man asked. Web knew he was referring to the slide blocking the trail out of the canyon. “There’s no way we can cross it.” “And there’s no way a chopper can set down here.” Gage answered back, gesturing at the small clearing where they sat dwarfed by towering pines. “By now the water will have receded a great deal, but it will be days before we’ll be able to walk out.” Gage hadn’t heard Cassie approach, but he nodded his head at her words, acknowledging that her judgment was correct. “That means we’ve got to find a spot where the rescuers can reach us.” Gage stared thoughtfully at the steep mountain towering above them. “There is a place . . .” Gage paused and Web turned to him, anxious to hear what he might suggest that could possibly lead them out of this nightmare. CHAPTER 5 Shalise sat beside Chelsea Timmerman on one of the logs near the fire pit. They changed position each time a fickle breeze shifted the plume

Friends call me Brie. You may call me Ms. Stewart.” “Stewart? Not Prime?” She shrugged. “I legally changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name.” “Like Prime Petroleum changed to Prime Energy a dozen years ago? Obvious and unconvincing greenwashing.” “I wasn’t greenwashing, I simply no longer wished to be associated with Prime Energy, and the decision to change my last name sent a clear message to Jeffrey Senior.

The problem was, Rosie didn’t enjoy dating. She liked being with someone, but she hated first dates and all the awkward “getting to know you” stuff. And maybe her standards were too high, but so far, her dating life had been disappointing. She wanted to be romanced like the heroines in her favorite books, dammit.

Rosie sent back a couple of heart emojis. She was absolutely a sucker for inspirational quotes, and it made her a little mushy inside to know Brie was thinking of her.

Jane's cheeks were flushed, she had mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her hair was a mess, and Rosie loved her this way... and every way.

She was being romantic and silly last night to even consider meeting Aurelia in person, but how could she back out of it now without hurting her feelings?

Evict anyone new today?” Rosie asked bitterly. “Level another building? I’d probably need a drink, too, if that was my job.

That’s because you’re waiting for something romantic to happen like you read about in your books, but that’s not real life,” Paige said. “Nikki and I met on Tinder.

At this point, the damage is done. I was happily single before, and now I want you so much that there will be ramifications whether or not we have sex. I’m fairly confident I won’t regret sleeping with you, but I know for sure I’d regret it if I didn’t.

Sometimes I feel more comfortable with myself behind a keyboard than in person.

But when she finished the book and put it back on her shelf, she was all alone in her bedroom.

So she grabbed her Kindle and curled up to read

Rosie’s former roommate Hallie, who had driven all the way from Boston to be here tonight.

Her online crush, her real-life crush, and the woman who'd crushed her dreams were all the same person, and her mind was still struggling to snap all the pieces into place.

I think I like you," Paige said, relaxing into a smile. "Don't prove me wrong.

Prosecutors can still pursue domestic violence cases without victim testimony or cooperation. I recently sat in on a conference where a prosecutor from San Diego, Marnie Layon, gave examples of viable post-Crawford evidence: a victim’s demeanor, a platter of food spilled across the floor, independent witness observation, frantic calls or text messages to family and friends for help, social media posts... Today, 'what I’ve seen in prosecutors’ units is domestic violence fatigue,' Ms. Gardner said. Crawford doesn’t make prosecution impossible, but it makes things 'complicated, too nuanced,' she added. 'We’re kind of going backward.' Perpetrators, she said, 'are not being prosecuted as often as they could and should be.' In other words, 'the barrier to evidence-based prosecution is not about evidence,' as Mr. Gwinn told me not long ago. It never really was. It’s about the kind of violence that is deemed worthy of state attention

A comfort zone is the most dangerous area anyone can stay in. It is a place of no growth and no challenges.” —Brian Cagneey

That was where she got her first taste of recommending books to customers, and she was hooked.

She wanted to be romanced like the heroines in her favorite books, dammit.

She liked it a lot better when she was in control of the story. Real life was messy . . . and terrifying.

To the woman who inspired me to look outside the pages ~ Brie

You could learn a lot about a person from their bedroom,