Reese's Love Quotes

While falling in love is fun, it's not everything, and it's not the antidote to an unfulfilled life, despite what Reese Witherspoon movies may tell you.

Reese, your books might not tell you this, so I will. Every heart has two parts, the part that pumps and the part that loves. If you’re going to spend your life fixing broken hearts, then learn about both. You can’t just fix one with no concern for the other.

Life isn't about perfection. There is no rule book. Life has many different chapters, and every chapter deserves celebrating.

Since my trips to Earth, I've only managed to assemble a few basics facts about humans, condensing them in to four, overall points: kids got Reese's, teens got recess, adults got recessions, and seniors got receding.

So what would you have asked for if you won?” He doesn’t hesitate even one beat. “Your peanut butter chocolate cake with my name written in Reese’s Pieces.

Finding pleasure at home-whether in a family dinner or a book club or a backyard barbecue-can give us the strength to go out into the world and do incredible things.

it was a combination of beauty and strength that made southern women “whiskey in a teacup.” We may be delicate and ornamental on the outside, she said, but inside we’re strong and fiery.

A lot of key moments in life are like that: You can be nervous as all get out. Just drink a beer and do it anyway.

My grandma always said, “Pretty is as pretty does.

Mr. Reese had told him that life, at its core, was a cruel burden because we had the knowledge that we were born to die. We were born with innocent eyes and those eyes had to see pain and death and deceit and violence and heartache. If we were lucky we lived long enough to see most everything we love die. But, he said, being honorable and truthful took a little of the sting out of it. It made life bearable. Mr. Reese said liars and cowards were the worst people to know because they broke your heart in a world that is built to break your heart. They poured gas on an already cruel and barely controllable fire.

People aren’t pretty if they act ugly.

You're very insightful, Mr. Capeletti," Matt said, tugging the string again from the hole in his jeans. "See, you can love me for my mind and my body," Julian said before standing and placing a kiss on Matt's forehead.

Because Rowdy Yates was that and then some. He was also drop-dead gorgeous in a devilish, careless, edgy way. Where Reese tempered his sex appeal, Rowdy threw it out there without reserve, bludgeoning innocent bystanders with his raw magnetism.

They had kissed. He was now person who had kissed another person, and been kissed in return. He would never be the same as he was before. Kissing changed everything.

You won't meet a friend sitting on your couch.

One historical note that I just love: When the suffragettes were marching, at one point they started wearing red lipstick so they would all be wearing the same bold color and stand in solidarity with one another. I love how this little thing many women had in their purses became a powerful political symbol. It's a reminder that we don't have to diminish ourselves as women to be seen as strong. You can push for societal change and you can love getting dressed up. You don't have to choose.

I woke up to the warm sun on my naked back. Finger tips traveled down my spine, and back up. A little circle over my shoulder blade, and then back down again. My hands were under my pillow and my face was turned away from Tucker. I smiled when I felt his lips gently touch my shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured into my warm, sun kissed skin.

Robert Pattinson loves to read and watch old movies and he’s very smart.

I came across time for you, Sarah. I love you. I always have." Kyle Reese in The Terminator

Termite, you're young, and I'm not sure if you're going to understand what I'm about to say, but here's the nugget: Without the heart, nothing else matters. She could be the Goddess of Love, you could have all the mind-blowing sex you could physically handle, but when the shooting is over, and you're starting to think about getting a bite to eat, smoking a cigarette, or what you do with her now, you're just lying in bed with a woman who means little more to you than the remote control for your TV. Love is not tool; neither is a woman's heart. What I'm talking about, you won't find in that magazine." "How would you know? You just said you've only loved one woman. I think you need to test-drive a few cars before you buy one." "You can buy that lie if you want, but if you're working for a bank, you don't study the counterfeit to know the real thing. You study the real thing to know the counterfeit." Reese talking to Termite, pg. 109-110

Kissing Amber was like falling into the sea: Her body surrendered to the pull of the tide, buoyed by the saltwater, every breath tasting like the ocean. Reese lost all sense of where the surface was. All there was, was this. Amber’s lips, her tongue, her hands stroking back Reese’s hair, curling around her head and holding her steady. If their first kiss had been a bit awkward, that was gone now.

What are you looking at?" "The woman I love." With all his heart and soul. Reese looked over her shoulder. "Where? I don't see any one." Then she laughed, hitting the glass table with the palm of her hand.

He tasted like warm safety might smell. ~Tara Reese DOM Wars!

Love. It has the ability to heal, the power to free a soul of self-imposed limitations, and the strength to balance our mind, body and spirit.

We always say in the South that good manners are a kind of passport. If you have good manners, you can go everywhere and people are glad to have you around.

So as lovely as romance can be, we have to make sure that we’re not falling into the trap of making our entire life about searching for an unrealistic notion of happiness. While falling in love is fun, it’s not everything, and it’s not the antidote to an unfulfilled life, despite what Reese Witherspoon movies may tell you.

Reese is trying, but she can’t get it quite right, because nobody’s Byatt but Byatt, not even the girl in these memories. There’s this place in her, somewhere nobody can touch, not me or Reese or anyone. It’s just hers, and I don’t even know what it is, really, just that it’s there, and that she takes it with her when she goes.

Instead he leaned closer, gaze meeting hers from behind his horn-rims. "Then go fix it. If you love him, it's worth it, Reese.

He was gorgeous. Every feature on his face perfect, dark and inviting. The boy could be his own photo shoot." Kasey Reese - Men of the Cave

Everybody needs love. Everyone deserves it.

A proper southern goodbye can take hours.

The grief you feel is parallel to the love you’ve shared. Those who love deeply, hurt deeply too. But if they don’t let fear get in the way, they chance to gain all the beauty this life has to offer.” He

Now, this is my little public service announcement: If you get invited to something, it's incumbent upon you to RSVP as soon as possible. A quick “no” is better than a long “maybe.” People go to a lot of trouble to plan a party, and it's a big deal to open up your home. What's more, it's essential to show up if you say you will. I have a busy life, but I still don't cancel unless it's a superduper emergency – I'm talking hospital-visit, in-the-newspapers-the-next-day emergency. Being tired just isn't a good enough excuse. C'mon! Make an effort! One trick I use to determine whether or not to say yes to an invite is: Would I want to go right then and there? If the party were that second, would I get dressed and rush out of the house to go to the party? If the answer is yes, I probably do want to go, but if the answer is no, I don't accept the invitation.

A meet-cute is when the hero and heroine meet for the very first time, and it’s always in a charming way. It’s how you know they’re going to end up together. The cuter the better.” “Like in Terminator, when Reese saves Sarah Connor from the Terminator and he says, ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ Freaking amazing line.

We were taught manners by example. The older women in our families were unflappably polite. Southern women are strong and outspoken but also beautifully composed and always present their best selves to the world. They believe in character and the presentation of that character. They aren’t afraid to tell you how they really feel.

In life, you will always have a third of people who love you, a third who hate you and a third who couldn't care less. - From an interview with Gabrielle Reese

This isn’t a fucking fling. I’ve loved you my entire life, Reese Murphy. That will never fade.

Just because something’s hard and just because it makes both of us nervous doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it, Reese. Worth absolutely everything.

Ain’t nothing wrong with a little crew love!” True mocked her.

You can be nervous as all get out. Just drink a beer and do it anyway.

3. If you want love and companionship, buy a dog.

I take the South everywhere I go,

That’s what I picture when I think about southern homes: lots of porches—and of course ceiling fans everywhere. It’s hot, y’all.

They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but my grandmother Dorothea always said that pearls are a southern girl’s best friend.

Will you, Reese Anders, love of my life and partner in crime, make me the luckiest bastard on Earth and marry me?

But I knew Charlie. I loved her — truly loved her — not for who she used to be or whatever fantasy Reese had of her in his head. I’d seen her sick. I’d danced with her on her best days and helped her stand on the days she couldn’t bear the thought of it. I’d built a home with her, built a life with her, and neither hell nor high water could keep me from keeping the vows I’d made to her the day we were married.

Dorothea always said that it was a combination of beauty and strength that made southern women “whiskey in a teacup.” We may be delicate and ornamental on the outside, she said, but inside we’re strong and fiery. Our famous hospitality isn’t martyrdom; it’s modeling. True southern women treat everyone the way we want to be treated: with grace and respect—no matter where they come from or how different from you they may be.

I’m going to kill you.” “Could you kiss me first?” Reese murmured, extending her good hand. Tory moved between Reese’s parted legs, resting her palm on Reese’s thigh for support. “Hmm, I suppose.” “Then I’ll go happy.

It’s important to me that my home feel welcoming. I want people to feel like they can sit on the furniture. You can have a beautiful house, very well decorated, but you have to be able to sit down or else it’s not a home.

Oh, how I wish I could see her suffocate in this position. Let her breathe her last breath. Watch the light fade from her eyes. Cum inside of her and have no remorse at all. Shit, I’m a dirty fucking bastard, but I love it!

Until… Chase stood. The restaurant, which had been a loud rumble, suddenly quieted. Everything after that happened in slow motion. All of our family and friends faded away as the man I love got down on one knee. I heard and saw nothing but him. “I had this whole thing to say planned out in my head, but the minute I saw your face, I completely forgot every word. So I’m just going to wing it here. Reese Elizabeth Annesley, since the first time I laid eyes on you on that bus in middle school, I’ve been crazy about you.” I smiled and shook my head. “You got the crazy part right.” Chase took my hand, and it was then I noticed his was shaking. My cocky, always-confident bossman was nervous. If it was possible, I fell a little more in love with him in that moment. I squeezed his hand, offering reassurance, and he steadied. That’s what we did for each other. I was the balance to his unsteadiness. He was the courage to my fear. He continued. “Maybe it wasn’t a school bus or middle school, but I fell hard for you in the hall, that much I’m sure of. From the moment I saw your beautiful face light up that dark hallway a year ago, I was done. I didn’t even care that we were both on dates with other people, I just needed to be closer to you any way I could. Since then, you’ve distracted me every day whether you’re near me or not. You brought me back to life, and there’s nothing I want to do more than build that life with you. I want to be the man to look under your bed every night and wake up next to you in it every morning. You’ve changed me. When I’m with you, I’m myself, only a better version, because you make me want to be a better man. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want it to start yesterday. So, please tell me you’ll be my wife because I’ve already been waiting for you my entire life, and I don’t want to wait any more.” I pressed my forehead to his as tears streamed down my face. “You know I’m going to be even crazier once we live together, and probably even worse when we have our own family. Three locks might turn to seven, and doing my check in that big house of yours is going to take a long time. It might get old and tiring. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to change any of that.” Chase reached behind me and bunched my hair into his hand, cupping it along with the nape of my neck. “I don’t want you to change. Not any of it. I love everything about you. There’s not a single thing I’d change if I could. Well, except your last name.

There’s a fabulous book, Beauty Shop Politics: African American Women’s Activism in the Beauty Industry by Tiffany M. Gill, about African American hair salons and their owners during the 1960s—women who changed the entire social landscape of the South.

Alfie was consistent, and, because of that, I wasn't crazy. I was calm, I was chill - I was all the things you wanted me to be, Reese. But I was incapable of being those things with you. The more you wanted me to be that "chill" girl - the more you made it clear that your love for me depended on it - the less chill and more crazy I got. Because you weren't consistent. One day you’d be all over me, making my anxiety disappear, being kind and considerate and amazing and everything I’d always wanted. “God I love you, I love you so much,” you’d tell everyone at the lunch table, and the rest of the band would groan while I glowed. But then, later that afternoon, we’d walk past a girl and you’d say, “Wow, she’s so pretty,” then get in a mood with me if I dared to be upset. I’m starting to realize that craziness may not always come from within. I’m starting to think lows aren’t worth the highs - not in love. Not in something where the most important thing is to feel safe. Consistency is underrated.

What the actual fuck! I never should have brought you out here with me. Yes, you all are big strong men and you want to take care of me and protect me and I get that, but seriously? Fucking seriously? Get your shit together because out here you can’t let me become a distraction. Distractions get you dead. Rule number four, motherfuckers!

I’m so ridiculously happy in this moment that when I begin to silently cry next to him, I don’t know what to think besides what I’m now willing to admit to myself. I’m crazy in love with this man. I love everything about him. From the tiniest detail like the little lines next to his eyes and the slit that runs down his bottom lip, to the way I can only seem to be able to take a full breath when he’s near me. I love the words he says to me and the look he reserves only for me; even if that look is one that’s a preamble to a Reese style flip out. I love the way I can sense his presence and the way my heart beats in my chest when I finally lock eyes with him. I love him. Just him.

Still, he's Emory. He doesn't have to walk her home, especially considering how snitty she was to him. He didn't have to come in and stop her cruelty to Fay, or watch over her as he has evidently been continuing to do, drawing those pictures on the Reeses' sidewalk. She knew the pictures were for her and her children. She and Emory did not always spell things out, but she knew, when he drew pictures, what they meant.

I sat up straight, lifted my chin, and said, “Well, I’m a lady, and I’m going to handle it like a lady.” Where did that voice come from? I wondered. I’d never said those words out loud before. (Men in that room told me they’d never heard anyone say them before, either!) But in my voice that day, I heard all the women I knew growing up in the South—women for whom being a southern lady was a source of confidence and strength in times of trial and a source of joy in good t

They had such a good meet-cute,” I croak. “What’s a meet-cute?” Peter’s lying on his side now, his head propped up on his elbow. He looks so adorable I could pinch his cheeks, but I refrain from saying so. His head is big enough as it is. “A meet-cute is when the hero and heroine meet for the very first time, and it’s always in a charming way. It’s how you know they’re going to end up together. The cuter the better.” “Like in Terminator, when Reese saves Sarah Connor from the Terminator and he says, ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ Freaking amazing line.” “I mean, sure, I guess that’s technically a meet-cute…I was thinking more like It Happened One Night. We should add that to our list.” “Is that in color or black-and-white?” “Black-and-white.” Peter groans and falls back against the couch cushions. “It’s too bad we don’t have a meet-cute,” I muse. “You jumped me in the hallway at school. I think that’s pretty cute.” “But we already knew each other, so it doesn’t really count.” I frown. “We don’t even remember how we met. How sad.” “I remember meeting you for the first time.” “Nuh-uh. Liar!” “Hey just because you don’t remember something doesn’t mean I don’t. I remember a lot of things.” “Okay, so how did we meet?” I challenge. I’m sure that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be a lie. Peter opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. “I’m not telling.” “See! You just can’t think of anything.” “No, you don’t deserve to know, because you don’t believe me.” I roll my eyes. “So full of it.

Whenever I see lifestyle magazines where everything’s so clean, I wonder, “Where’s all the junk?” The first thing I figure out when furnishing a room is where to put the junk. Two words: secret storage. The key to a harmonious and clutter-free living area, especially when you have kids, is to hide everything. I’m talking about closets everywhere, drawers on everything, and ottomans that are really storage chests. Baskets for Legos. Shelves for games. Just please don’t open any cabinets in my house . . . I’m afraid there might be a waterfall of toys coming at you!

He nods at the offering I haven't quite let go of, the note now crinkled in my death grip. Guess we're doing this. I thrust the cheese toward him, unable to look away from the wall behind him as I do. He takes it and when his head tips down to read the note, I watch the smirk fall from his face. B, Let's go on that date. When's gouda for you? R "Reese..." Benny looks up and meets my eyes, a series of expressions flashing across his face. Blankness bordering on confusion to surprise, then, finally, to absolute eye-twinkling, toothy-smiled elation. "I didn't know you were so cheesy.

Dear Lara Jean, I will give you your letter back on one condition. You have to make a solemn unbreakable vow that you will return it to me after you’re done reading it. I need physical proof that a girl liked me in middle school, otherwise who would ever believe it? And for what it’s worth, that peanut butter chocolate cake you baked was the best I ever ate. I never had another cake quite like that one, with my name written in Reese’s Pieces. I still think about it sometimes. A guy doesn’t forget a cake like that. I have one question for you. How many letters did you write? Just wondering how special I should feel. John

MAKES ABOUT 10 LARGE OR 15 SMALL BISCUITS Cheddar Biscuits Flecks of sharp cheddar cheese add flavor and color to these biscuits. I like to make them smaller, using a 11/2-inch biscuit cutter or small juice glass to cut them out. For a party, these are fantastic filled with ham, fig jam, or my favorite, tomato jam. (For biscuit-making advice, see “Biscuit-Making Tips” on page 259.) 2 cups all-purpose flour plus more for rolling 21/4 teaspoons baking powder 3/4 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter, chilled and cut into small cubes 3/4 cup sharp cheddar cheese, shredded 1 cup buttermilk 1/4 cup butter, melted 1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. 2. In a large mixing bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Cut the cold

Maybe I've put too much high hopes and expectations on you, or started holding you to an unreachable standard." "That isn't fair," he says, his own breath coming quicker. He's starting to look less confused and more straight-up angry. Join the club, bud. "I probably should have told you before Geoffrey and Aiden, but I was excited, and you've been ignoring all my attempts to talk since UltiCon. And I really didn't think you would take the news this way. I thought it was a good thing and truthfully? I think you're overreacting." The little porcupine quills that I imagine live just beneath my skin, primed to shoot up and protect me at a moment's notice, are at the ready now. Except they feel more like Wolverine claws in this case, and Norberto Beneventi's about to feel their wrath. "Overreacting, huh? Love to hear that. Sorry I'm not over the moon, shooting rainbows out my eyeballs because I'm so delighted for you. Sorry I'm not a selfless little woman whose only goal in life is to see her man shine, that I have real feelings and ambitions for myself." "Reese, for the love of---" he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and walking in a tight circle before returning to stand in front of me. He adjusts his cap with a long-suffering sigh. "You know what? I think you've been waiting for this. I think you figured out that there was more to say after our last conversation, and you know this is not that big of a deal, but you've been scared for so long, and angry, and the world's been unfair to you. And I bet whether you realize it or not, you've been waiting for the first excuse to get rid of me for good. You're used to being alone and it's easier than letting another person in, so all you needed was the smallest hint that something may not be perfect and boom---no more Benny. Am I right?" I scoff, moving to pass him for real this time and not stopping when his hand brushes my shoulder. "You just know me so well, don't you? Please, tell me more about how I'm feeling, why I do the things I do. But you'll have to send it in another message, because I don't have to stay here and listen to it." I hoist my bag farther onto my shoulder and stomp away from him, my own fury nearly blocking out his parting words. "Go on, then. Maybe you can move back across the country. See if running from your problems works the second time around.

Do you know what I remember?” I ask suddenly. “What?” “The time Trevor’s shorts split open when you guys were playing basketball. And everybody was laughing so hard that Trevor started getting mad. But not you. You got on your bike and you rode all the way home and brought Trevor a pair of shorts. I was really impressed by that.” He has a faint half smile on his face. “Thanks.” Then we’re both quiet and still dancing. He’s an easy person to be quiet with. “John?” “Hmm?” I look up at him. “I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I’ve got you. I mean, I have your name. In the game.” “Seriously?” John looks genuinely disappointed, which makes me feel guilty. “Seriously. Sorry.” I press my hands against his shoulders. “Tag.” “Well, now you have Kavinsky. I was really looking forward to taking him out, too. I had a whole plan and everything.” All eagerness I ask, “What was your plan?” “Why should I tell the girl who just tagged me out?” he challenges, but it’s a weak challenge, just for show, and we both know he’s going to tell me. I play along. “Come on, Johnny, I’m not just the girl who tagged you out. I’m your pen pal.” John laughs a little. “All right, all right. I’ll help you.” The song ends and we step apart. “Thanks for the dance,” I say. After all this time, I finally know what it’s like to dance with John Ambrose McClaren. “So what would you have asked for if you won?” He doesn’t hesitate even one beat. “Your peanut butter chocolate cake with my name written in Reese’s Pieces.” I stare at him in surprise. That’s what he would have wished for? He could have anything and he wants my cake? I give him a curtsy. “I’m so honored.” “Well, it was a really good cake,” he says.

So before you pass judgment on this cake, maybe take a look at yourself and what's going on in your own screwed-up life that's given you a warped perspective on an innocent, beautiful, phenomenal in every way----" I lay a hand on Benny's shoulder and when he turns toward me, his mouth falls open in a perfect circle, dark eyebrows wrinkling his forehead under his cap. He is flushed and startled and so, so handsome. It's the first time I've looked at his face since we were on a city sidewalk and I was walking away from him and goodness, I've missed it. "Sounds like a pretty good cake," I manage with a soft smile. "The best," he breathes. I step closer still, just a few inches from him now. "I'm a little sweeter on the baker, to be honest." His eyes close and his chin tips down for just a moment, and he exhales on a laugh before looking at me with so much warmth and intensity. "You have no idea how it is to hear that," he murmurs, and then he's kissing me hard, one hand in my hair and the other wrapping around my waist to pull me to him. I bring my arms up around his shoulders, barely registering the cheers and applause in the packed kitchen before I pull the cap off Benny's head. I hold it up to cover our faces from the camera, as our kiss goes on much longer than I'd ever want my mama to see. When we break apart, Benny whispers, "I love you, Reese. And I'm sorry for not making that totally clear before now. I want to be with you, and support you, and fight for you----" "I love you, Benny." I hadn't said it out loud before, for fear that this would end and I'd be heartbroken. But it appears that will not be the case. And I'm so, so certain that I love him. "Woo!" he shouts, lifting me by the waist and twirling me around. Then, since the camera is still rolling---perhaps a sense of "what do we really have to lose at this point?" on Charlie's part---he yells, "I LOVE REESE CAMDEN! Who wants cake?

TREASURE CHEST COOKIES (Lisa’s Aunt Nancy’s Babysitter’s Cookies) Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. The Cookie Dough: ½ cup (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound) salted butter, room temperature ¾ cup powdered sugar (plus 1 and ½ cups more for rolling the cookies in and making the glaze) ¼ teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons milk (that’s cup) 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 and ½ cups all-purpose flour (pack it down when you measure it) The “Treasure”: Well-drained Maraschino cherries, chunks of well-drained canned pineapple, small pieces of chocolate, a walnut or pecan half, ¼ teaspoon of any fruit jam, or any small soft candy or treat that will fit inside your cookie dough balls. The Topping: 1 cup powdered (confectioners) sugar To make the cookie dough: Mix the softened butter and ¾ cup powdered sugar together in a medium-sized mixing bowl. Beat them until the mixture is light and fluffy. Add the salt and mix it in. Add the milk and the vanilla extract. Beat until they’re thoroughly blended. Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing well after each addition. Divide the dough into 4 equal quarters. (You don’t have to weigh it or measure it, or anything like that. It’s not that critical.) Roll each quarter into a log shape and then cut each log into 6 even pieces. (The easy way to do this is to cut it in half first and then cut each half into thirds.) Roll the pieces into balls about the size of a walnut with its shell on, or a little larger. Flatten each ball with your impeccably clean hands. Wrap the dough around a “treasure” of your choice. If you use jam, don’t use over a quarter-teaspoon as it will leak out if there’s too much jam inside the dough ball. Pat the resulting “package” into a ball shape and place it on an ungreased cookie sheet, 12 balls to a standard-size sheet. Push the dough balls down just slightly so they don’t roll off on their way to your oven. Hannah’s 1st Note: I use baking sheets with sides and line them with parchment paper when I bake these with jam. If part of the jam leaks out, the parchment paper contains it and I don’t have sticky jam on my baking sheets or in the bottom of my oven. Bake the Treasure Chest Cookies at 350° F. for approximately 18 minutes, or until the bottom edge is just beginning to brown when you raise it with a spatula. Remove the cookies from the oven and allow them to cool on the sheets for about 5 minutes. Place ½ cup of powdered sugar in a small bowl. Place wax paper or parchment paper under the wire racks. Roll the still-warm cookies in the powdered sugar. The sugar will stick to the warm cookies. Coat them evenly and then return them to the wire racks to cool completely. (You’ll notice that the powdered sugar will “soak” into the warm cookie balls. That’s okay. You’re going to roll them in powdered sugar again for a final coat when they’re cool.) When the cookies are completely cool, place another ½ cup powdered sugar in your bowl. Roll the cooled cookies in the powdered sugar again. Then transfer them to a cookie jar or another container and store them in a cool, dry place. Hannah’s 2nd Note: I tried putting a couple of miniature marshmallows or half of a regular-size marshmallow in the center of my cookies for the “treasure”. It didn’t work. The marshmallows in the center completely melted away. Lisa’s Note: I’m going to try my Treasure Chest Cookies with a roll of Rollo’s next time I make them. Herb just adores those chocolate covered soft caramels. He wants me to try the miniature Reese’s Pieces, too. Yield: 2 dozen delicious cookies that both kids and adults will love to eat.

I love a woman who can fight for herself.

Two Parts. One Whole.

He was now officially a forty-year-old lonely man. Lovely. He never thought he'd reach this age and still be alone, but he was also never one to settle for anything.

I want to fall for you in the worst way. I want to pull you down on that fur rug with me and take my time removing your clothes, because we’re not in any hurry. I won’t change my mind, because I need to remember every inch of your skin, and the way it tastes when I run my tongue over it. I’d savor every part of your body, making sure to appreciate the way you react to my touch,” I brushed my lips over hers again.  “And my kiss. Then I’d make love to you, for as long as possible, the whole time looking into your beautiful eyes so I can remember what it was like to watch the pleasure I bring you, again and again. I’d memorize your curves, and move slow, so it lasts all night. When it’s over I’d hold you tight, pretending that I’d never have to let you go.” I backed away from Reese, and watched as her body began to tremble. Her lips parted, but words wouldn’t come out. “That’s what I’d do, hypothetically of course.

It’s not about how much money you have.  It’s not about the physical.  It’s about male role models.  When a young boy feels secure and can watch and learn and receive praise from a man he admires, that boy will become a real man.  All the money in advertising and all of the crazy superstars in this world can’t touch that.  When a boy hears words like “I love you”, “You’re great”, “You’re daddy’s little man”, “You’re growing up”, “I’m so proud of you because...”, from a male figure they admire, they will gain a positive and healthy self image that will last them a lifetime.

Conner Reese for Christmas. Now that sounded like jingle bells all the way. More time with him would be the perfect gift.

You have to risk your heart to find love. It’s the price we pay for a chance at bliss.

The grief you feel is parallel to the love you’ve shared. Those who love deeply, hurt deeply too. But if they don’t let fear get in the way, they chance to gain all the beauty this life has to offer.

To my delight, the man undies are a jumbled mess. They aren’t folded or rolled or placed in the drawer in any sort of organized way. Which means the entire drawer is basically just like a cozy, squishy, surprisingly nice-smelling bed. I just want to curl up and take a nap in here. My rat dive-bombs into it like she’s swimming in a pool, tunnels through one, and pops back up with a pair wrapped around our body. Pleased, my rat starts climbing out. Oh, okay. I guess we’re stealing a pair of boxers. Lovely.

It’s alright to have hook-ups. And it’s alright to be in relationships. And it’s alright to be in a relationship and have hook-ups at the same time, if you’re poly and everyone communicates a lot and agrees on it.

Too old for a relationship and too young to die. Not that he wanted another relationship anyway. Who would want a fifty-year-old man for a sub, anyway?

Necks were much better than penises. Dicks were truly weird. These odd little flaps of skin that swelled up with blood and then spewed out goo. All the time. Even though humans were mostly monogamous and didn’t need to reproduce that often.

Fulton laid a heavy hand on Emma’s knee, there in the larger of Chloe’s two parlors, and Emma quickly set it away. “God’s eyeballs, Emma,” Fulton complained in a sort of whiny whisper, “we’re practically engaged!” “It’s not proper to talk about God’s anatomy,” Emma said stiffly, squinting at the needlework in the stand in front of her before plunging the needle in. “And if you don’t keep your hands to yourself, you’ll just have to go home.” Fulton gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’d think a girl would learn something, living in the same house with Chloe Reese.” Emma’s dark blue eyes were wide with annoyance when she turned them on Fulton. “I beg your pardon?” “Well, I only meant—” “I know what you meant, Fulton.” “A man has a right to a kiss now and then, when he’s willing to promise the rest of his life to a woman!” Emma narrowed her eyes, planning to point out that he wasn’t the only one with a lifetime on the line, but before she could speak, Fulton grabbed her and pressed his dry mouth to hers. She squirmed, wondering why on earth those romantic English novels spoke of kissing as though it were something wonderful, and when she couldn’t get free, she poked Fulton in the hand with her embroidery needle. He gave a shout and jerked back, slapping at his hand as though a bug had lighted there. “Damn it all to perdition!” he barked. Emma calmly rethreaded her needle and went back to embroidering her nosegay. It was a lovely thing of pink, lavender, and white flowers, frothed in baby’s breath. It was never good to let a man get too familiar. “Good night, Fulton,” she said. Stiffly, Fulton stood. “Won’t you even do me the courtesy of walking me to the gate?” he grumbled. Thinking of the respectability that would be hers if she were to marry Fulton someday, Emma suppressed a sigh, secured her needle in the tightly drawn cloth, and rose to her feet. Her arm linked with his, she walked him to the gate. The

We were chaos in the mist of fire, insanity without logic, weightless density that defied the laws of gravity. And when I was with him my feet never touched the ground. He didn’t keep me grounded -he made me fly. Only problem was, at some point, I had to come down. When I did it felt like I was falling without a parachute. -Evangelina Reese

[Della Reese] is still very much a vital part of my life. You know, she adopted me. My own mother had passed away when I was just a little girl of 10, and Della's only daughter tragically passed away while we were working together. She took me in her arms, and she said, 'You know, baby, God is amazing. I always knew he brought you into my life because you needed a mama, I just didn't realize that he brought you into my life because I was going to need a baby girl.' She's been my mom ever since, and I just love her to pieces.

Reese was the boy I explored my sexuality with in sophomore year and I fell in love with him.

I fell head-over-heels in love with Lance in the middle of first theology. Like others before me, I fell in love in seminary—which made Lance my first boyfriend after Reese.

Where’s the skill in throwing a hook loaded with tempting bait into the general vicinity of lots of perpetually hungry creatures with brains the size of mustard seeds? You might as well go to a playground, scatter Reese’s peanut butter cups around, and club to death the first four year old foolish enough to approach, believing innocently that such treats are readily available in nature.

When someone you love dies, you always wonder if you could have said or done something differently, if that would have changed things. It's part of being human. It's part of caring and loving someone.

Yes and no. Some days I still love you and some days I don’t.” Reese waited, sensing there was more. So he let her have as much of the truth as he could bear. “But the days I don’t love you…I have to work hard to make those days happen. The days I do require nothing of me.

Reese, I swear I fell in love with you the moment you walked into Jacob’s place that first night. It slammed into me so hard it almost took my breath away. Hell, maybe even during our first video chat when I was at Jacob’s and you were in Tennessee.

There was a lot of gossip around town about Jacob and me falling for the Wells brothers so quickly. More than one rude person said we wouldn’t last a year. But every time I look at Reese, or Jacob looks at Owen, I know those people don’t know what they’re talking about. We’ve found our forever, our homes. I know our parents are looking down smiling, happy to see that their sons found the same true love they did. I know they’d be proud.

(shout-out to Mr. Reese: love your Pieces, sir),

You always gain by giving love.

Another component it has, see, is the chocolate. The chocolate is this unbelievable deliciousness that everyone wants and is lucky to come into contact with. It's sweet, it's light, it's of the highest quality and best flavor. Just so much sugary goodness there." Benny turns over the piece of the Reese's Cup he's holding between his thumb and forefinger. I've given up trying not to cry. "But here it's complemented by peanut butter. Peanut butter, it's got protein, right? So it has a lot of strength. A little saltiness, a little punch---this peanut butter won't take your shit sitting down, y'know? Because peanut butter has been through a lot to get here in its current form. A long process, a whole lot of grinding and pressure and struggle, to come out as smooth and complex and amazing as it is." I see that Raj, Nia, and Lily have wandered into PK 2 and are standing with Seb and the others, watching with expressions ranging from confusion to astonishment to pure enjoyment as Benny gets more and more spirited. About cake. About clearly much more than cake. "Now, even with all it took, even with all that these ingredients had to go through, all the heat it's taken to make the cake what it is, people might not be fans of this cake. While it's objectively incredible, perhaps the greatest cake that has ever existed, it's still gonna have haters. There are those who might watch this video and feel the need to comment on this cake, and tell it that it's not as special as it is, or point out what they think are flaws. People will disagree with chocolate and peanut butter being delicious, a stance that is plainly wrong. Others might suggest that Friends of Flavor would somehow be better off without this cake, or that my limited experience making decent Italian food somehow make my presence here more valuable than this cake's. "Well, I'd like to make it clear that those people don't know a single fucking thing." Gasps echo through the room, including my own. Did he just say that? Live? "They don't know about this cake, they don't know how wonderful it is. They've never seen something so purely good, so unobjectionably awesome. They feel intimidated and inferior, because they are inferior and always will be. They don't have anything on this cake and they know it, so they sit behind their computer screens or stand behind their oversize egos and tear it down to try to prop themselves up. But they'll be lucky if they ever cross paths with a cake like this and it dares to spit in their direction.

Reese," I say, still in a daze. I am totally dead-fishing our handshake, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Like Reese's Cups, the best candy in the history of the world?" He gives me a lopsided grin and I blink back at him. "Uh...no. Like Reese Witherspoon, patron saint of Southern ladies who watch too many romantic comedies.

So I should probably just tell you I'm about as green as these pistachios when it comes to macaroons. I've never even eaten one, let alone made---" I begin self-consciously, but Benny cuts me off. "Macarrrons," he says, throwing his hands up emphatically and rolling the r for longer than seems necessary. Not macaroons. Important distinction, Reese's Pieces. Two different cookies." I shake my head on an exhale, trying hard to keep my composure. "Right, well. Painful as it was to admit it the first time, I'll repeat that I've still never had a macaron, so you've gotta, like, tell me what to do." Benny grins at me, then looks directly into the camera. "It would be my honor." He shuffles around more bowls and I mock-whisper to the imaginary audience, "Apologies in advance to, well, feminism as a whole." "Did you say something?" Benny teases, pushing the pistachios toward me with finality. "There are just so many recipes, so much knowledge in my head that sometimes it's hard to hear anything outside it, you know?" "Keep it up, Benjamin," I say in the warning tone that my mamaw would use to tell my papaw that he should very much not keep it up.

The thing no one told you about being a doctor was how much you would panic when people you loved had anything wrong with them. Doctors knew way too much about the worst-case scenarios.

He wished he could cry. Let it all out.

I would take a dental exam over sex. I like my dentist.

Still, in his dying seconds, as he suffocated under a White police officer’s knee, Floyd managed to speak his love. “Mama, I love you!” he screamed from the pavement, where his cries of “I can’t breathe” were met with an indifference as deadly as hate. “Reese, I love you!” he yelled, a reference to his friend Maurice Hall, who was with him when he was handcuffed that Memorial Day evening. “Tell my kids I love them!

I'm saying—and try your best to follow me here, Reese—that people are sick. They're demented, perverted little fucks who love sex, violence, and death. Especially when it's all mixed together.

I feel bad that this is how it’s ending but no matter how much I’ve tried to love Reese, it’ll never live up to the way that I love Ethan.

Once upon a time, I hated him. But the line between love and hate is razor thin. And although I don’t think I’m in love with Reese, I am definitely falling for him.