Take off your shirt."
Jace raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not going to attack you," she said impatiently. "I can take the sight of your naked chest without swooning."
"Are you sure?" he asked, obediently sliding the shirt off his shoulders. "Because viewing my naked chest has caused many women to seriously injure themselves stampeding to get to me.
Cassandra Clare (City of Lost Souls (The Mortal Instruments, #5))
My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health.
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
Wait. Let me guess. You’re giving me the cold shoulder, right?”
With that, she sighed. “Shouldn’t you be with your friends, staring at yourselves in the mirror?”
He laughed. “That’s funny. I’ll have to remember that.”
“I’m not being funny. I’m being serious.”
“Oh, because we’re so good-looking
Nicholas Sparks (The Last Song)
Raphael snapped, "This isn't funny."
"That's why no one's laughing." Jace stood, hauling Raphael upright, jamming the tip of his knife between Raphael's shoulder blades.
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
Sam's hand brushed her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin as he brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, "You look beautiful. Though I bet you already know that." She most certainly did.
Sarah J. Maas (The Assassin's Blade (Throne of Glass, #0.1-0.5))
Did I ever tell you the difference between a Northern fairy tale and a Southern one?" she asked him, indulging herself and letting her head rest on his shoulder. God, he felt good. Her man. Where her head was meant to lie, right there, on him.
"What's the difference?"
"A Northern one starts 'once upon a time,' while a Southern one starts 'y'all ain't going to believe this shit.
Erin McCarthy (Hot Finish (Fast Track, #3))
So it's true what they say about warlocks, then?"
Alec gave him a very unpleasant look. "What's true?"
"Alexander," said Magnus coldly, and Clary met Simon's eyes across the table. Hers were wide, green, and full of an expression that said Uh-oh. "You can't be rude to everyone who talks to me."
Alec made a wide, sweeping gesture. "And why not? Cramping your style, am I? I mean, maybe you were hoping to flirt with werewolf boy here. He's pretty attractive, if you like the messy-haired, broad-shouldered, chiseled-good-looks type."
"Hey, now," said Jordan mildly.
Magnus put his head in his hands.
"Or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways, Is there anything you aren't into?"
"Mermaids," said Magnus into his fingers. "They always smell like seaweed."
"It's not funny," Alec said savagely, and kicking back his chair, he got up from the table and stalked off into the crowd.
Cassandra Clare (City of Fallen Angels (The Mortal Instruments, #4))
You knocked the door down." Disbelief rang in his matter-of-fact tone.
"I know," she answered,unable to say anything else. Unable to look away from his body.
"But it's solid oak."
"I know." She felt the solid oak beneath her and a little shocked that she'd done it, too. If it mattered at all, her shoulder felt a little bruised. And it was the slight pain that brought some reality back into the moment.
"You don't have any clothes on." Oh, God, did she really say that?
C.C. Hunter (Awake at Dawn (Shadow Falls, #2))
After climbing off his bike, I smacked his shoulder. “Did you forget I was with you? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“It’s hard to forget you’re behind me when your thighs are squeezing the life out of me.” A smirk came with his next thought. “I couldn’t think of a better way to die, actually.”
“There is something very wrong with you.
Jamie McGuire (Beautiful Disaster (Beautiful, #1))
It's all life is. Just going 'round kissing people.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (Gatsby Girls)
Instead of finding himself in nerd heaven—where every nerd gets fifty-eight virgins to role-play with—he woke up in Robert Wood Johnson with two broken legs and a separated shoulder, feeling like, well, he'd jumped off the New Brunswick train bridge.
I shook my head. She kissed my cheek, then on her way out patted Zachary's shoulder in a way that said, If you upset Aura in her weakened state, I will end you.
Jeri Smith-Ready (Shade (Shade, #1))
Plastic ware," he said slowly, "like knives and forks and spoons?"
I brushed a bit of dirt off the back of my car—was that a scratch?—and said casually,
"Yeah, I guess.Just the basics, you know."
"Did you need plastic ware?" he asked.
"Because," he went on, and I fought the urge to squirm, "it's so funny, because I need
plastic ware. Badly."
"Can we go inside, please?" I asked, slamming the trunk shut. "It's hot out here."
He looked at the bag again, then at me. And then, slowly, the smile I knew and
dreaded crept across his
face. "You bought me plastic ware," he said. "Didn't you?'
"No," I growled, picking at my license plate.
"You did!" he hooted, laughing out loud. "You bought me some forks. And knives.
"No," I said loudly.
"—you love me!" He grinned, as if he'd solved the puzzler for all time, as I felt a flush
creep across my
face. Stupid Lissa. I could have killed her.
"It was on sale," I told him again, as if this was some kind of an excuse.
"You love me," he said simply, taking the bag and adding it to the others.
"Only seven bucks," I added, but he was already walking away, so sure of himself. "It
was on clearance,
for God's sake."
"Love me," he called out over his shoulder, in a singsong voice. "You. Love. Me.
Sarah Dessen (This Lullaby)
She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she mad timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand.
"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well- Neville, take it, whatever it is..."
But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.
"Very nice, dear," said Neville's grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly, "Thanks Mum."
His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did not think he'd ever found anything less funny in his life.
"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on her long green gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now..."
But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
He patted my shoulder. "What's up with you? All of a sudden, you're bucking the system."
"i got drunk and had an epiphany."
"Shit, this is serious!" He gasped. "Last time that happened to me, i woke up gay.
J.C. Isabella (Chasing McCree (Chasing McCree, #1))
I'm going to take a wild guess here and say the hard-on you've been sporting all afternoon is not on account of Mr. Nicholson continually bending over to pick up the golf balls, right?"
"For fuck's sake, Dad!" James cursed, looking horrified at his father, who just shrugged his shoulders at his son's shocked expression.
"Whaaat? Just making sure," he added, hardly hiding his amusement.
Elle Aycart (More than Meets the Ink (Bowen Boys, #1))
He would say, "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away..." And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.
Arthur Rimbaud (A Season in Hell and The Drunken Boat)
By the power of Grayskull. . . I have the power!" Nick
"By the power of Grayskull, I'm going to cleave your skull from your shoulders if you don't take this seriously." Caleb
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Illusion (Chronicles of Nick, #5))
Trent’s chest rises with a quick inhale as his hands lift to grab mine and pull them out, placing them with a pat on the outside of his shirt. “Okay, you win. But don’t do that while I’m driving or we’ll end up in a ditch.” He looks over his shoulder again, adding in a soft, solemn tone, “I’m serious, Kacey. I can’t handle it.
K.A. Tucker (Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths, #1))
He had the prettiest hair she had ever seen on a man: dark brown, almost black, and soft like sable, it fell down to his shoulders. She wondered what he'd do if she threw some mud in it. Probably kill her.
Ilona Andrews (Bayou Moon (The Edge, #2))
You gonna put on your big-girl panties and fight with the boys, now?” He looked over his shoulder as if he expected me to blush or something.
“Who says I wear panties?”
I was certain that he flushed red this time. Laughing, I left him shaking his head and went on inside to find the Kid. We had work to do.
Faith Hunter (Blood Trade (Jane Yellowrock, #6))
Not now, old woman," I tossed over my shoulder coldly. "I need sleep."
Funny. You didn‘t seem to need so much a few days ago."
I felt the blood drain from my face. I wasn‘t ready for this confrontation. I might never be ready for it.
In fact, sleep was the last thing on your mind," he said tightly. He was angry. I could hear it in his voice. What was he angry about? I was the one who‘d been through the emotional wringer.
My hands curled into fists, my breathing grew shallow. I trusted him no more today than I had two months ago. "Fucking was all you wanted.
Karen Marie Moning (Dreamfever (Fever, #4))
Getting up from the table, shaking a little at her unraveling, Ari cuffed Charlie across the head. “Be nice.”
“Tell him to be nice!”
“I can’t,” she snorted, looking back over her shoulder at them. “If I did that he’d actually have to be nice… it would be like re-writing his entire personality.”
Jai grunted. “Funny.
Samantha Young (Smokeless Fire (Fire Spirits, #1))
Beati bellicosi. Blessed are the warriors.”
“Good organization,” said Magnus. “I knew the man who founded it, back in the 1800s. Woolsey Scott. Respectable old werewolf family.”
Alec made an ugly sound in the back of his throat. “Did you sleep with him, too?”
Magnus’s cat eyes widened. “Alexander!”
“Well, I don’t know anything about your past, do I?” Alec demanded. “You won’t tell me anything; you just say it doesn’t matter.”
Magnus’s face was expressionless, but there was a dark tinge of anger to his voice. “Does this mean every time I mention anyone I’ve ever met, you’re going to ask me if I had an affair with them?”
Alec’s expression was stubborn, but Simon couldn’t help having a flash of sympathy; the hurt behind his blue eyes was clear. “Maybe.”
“I met Napoleon once,” said Magnus. “We didn’t have an affair, though. He was shockingly prudish for a Frenchman.”
“You met Napoleon?” Jordan, who appeared to be missing most of the conversation, looked impressed. “So it’s true what they said about warlocks, then?”
Alec gave him a very unpleasant look. “What’s true?”
“Alexander,” said Magnus coldly, and Clary met Simon’s eyes across the table. Hers were wide, green, and full of an expression that said Uh-oh. “You can’t be rude to everyone who talks to me.”
Alec made a wide, sweeping gesture. “And why not? Cramping your style, am I? I mean, maybe you were hoping to flirt with werewolf boy here. He’s pretty attractive, if you like the messy-haired, broad-shouldered, chiseled-good looks type.”
“Hey, now,” said Jordan mildly.
Magnus put his head in his hands.
“Or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways. Is there anything you aren’t into?”
“Mermaids,” said Magnus into his fingers. “They always smell like seaweed.”
“It’s not funny,” Alec said savagely, and kicking back his chair, he got up from the table and stalked off into the crowd.
Cassandra Clare (City of Fallen Angels (The Mortal Instruments, #4))
Razor appeared on his shoulder with a buzzing laugh. "Stupid goblins," he crowed, bouncing up and down, making Kierran sigh. "Funny, stupid goblins think master is funny elf. Ha!" He buzzed once more and sat down, grinning like a psychotic piranha.
Julie Kagawa (The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten, #1))
He watched in awe as she stacked up an enormous armload of music. "There," she finished, slapping Frank Zappa's Greatest Hits on top of the pile. "That should do for a start."
"You are a music lover," said the wide-eyed cashier.
"No, I'm a kleptomaniac." And she dashed out the door.
He was so utterly shocked that it took him a moment to run after her.
With a meaningful nod in the direction of the astounded Cahills, she barreled down the cobblestone street with her load.
"Fermati!" shouted the cashier, scrambling in breathless pursuit.
Nellie let a few CDs drop and watched with satisfaction over her shoulder as the clerk stopped to pick them up. The trick would be to keep the chase going just long enough for Amy and Dan to search Disco Volante.
Yikes, she reflected suddenly, I'm starting to think like a Cahill....
And if she was nuts enough to hang around this family, it was only going to get worse.
Gordon Korman (One False Note (The 39 Clues, #2))
Jane. You’ve got to see this!” His voice was full of the honey-baked accent of old Virginia money.
As Blue staggered up the hill, telescope on her shoulder, she mentally tested the danger level: Am I in love with him yet?
Gansey galloped down the hill to snatch he telescope from her.
“This isn’t that heavy,” he told her, and strode back the way he’d come.
She did not think she was in love with him. She hadn’t been in love before, but she was still pretty sure she’d be able to tell. Earlier in the year, she had had a vision of kissing him, and she could still picture that quite easily. But the sensible part of Blue, which was usually the only part of her, thought that had more to do with Richard Campbell Gansey III having a nice mouth than with any blossoming romance.
Anyway, if fate thought it would tell her who to fall for, fate had another thing coming.
Gansey added, “I would’ve thought you had more muscles. Don’t feminists have big muscles?”
Decidedly not in love with him.
“Smiling when you say that doesn’t make it funny,” Blue said.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2))
All I need is
backup. He’s the little angel that sits on my shoulder whispering in my ear,
“You can do it!” It’s funny. I’m thirty years old now and I still feel like a little
girl. I’m still looking around to check and see what other people are doing
to make sure I’m not completely different; I’m still looking around for help,
hoping for a quick nudge and a whisper of advice. But I can’t seem to be able
to catch anybody’s eye. Nobody else around me seems to be looking around
and wondering what to do. Why is it that I feel like I’m the only person who
is confused and concerned about the choices I’ve made and where I’m
headed? Everywhere I look, I see people just getting on with it. Maybe I
should just follow suit and get on with it.
Cecelia Ahern (Love, Rosie)
He squeezed my shoulder and smiled at me.
I realized that I hadn't kissed him hello, I always kissed him hello. Of course, I was still covered in blood and other bodily fluids, and none of them were his, but he might not understand that that was why I hadn't wanted to get too close. Some of my confusion must have shown on my face, because his smile widened. He turned me around by the shoulders, gave me a little push towards the bathroom, and slapped me on the ass. "Get cleaned up, I'll take care of things here."
"I can't believe that you just did that," I said.
"Did what?" he said, and he was grinning at me.
I could probably count on one hand the number of times Micah had grinned at me. His eyes were sparkling with laughter as if it were all he could do not to let it out. I was happy to see him having a good time, really I was. But I wasn't sure what was funny, and I didn't have the courage to ask. It was probably something that would be at my expense, or something I'd just done that he found cute. I was not cute. Confused, fucked-up, bruised, but not cute. Nathaniel and Damian knew better, but as I passed Gregory, I had to say, "If you touch my ass, I will rip you a new one." I said it as I moved past him, not even pausing.
"You're no fun," he growled.
I looked back just before I turned out of sight of him. "Oh, I'm a lot of fun, just not around you."
He snarled at me. "Bitch."
"Woof, woof," I said, and finally made it into the bathroom.
Laurell K. Hamilton (Incubus Dreams (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, #12))
I feel my smile on my face as I understand what she is doing. Though it's a strange one, she has a name-sound just like I do, and she's telling me what it is. I try to make the same sounds.
"Ehh..beh." I frown. Why is her name-sound so difficult and so long?
She frowns right back at me and says it again. "Elizabeth."
She sighs and her forehead wrinkles.
She taps her chest again.
The sound is shorter but still very odd.
"Beth," she repeats.
I've had enough. I reach out and touch her should.
I tap her a little harder and growl.
"Beh", I repeat. I tap her again. "BEH!"
Her eyes widen a bit, and she inhales sharply. A moment later, her shoulders drop and she sighs.
"Beh," she says quietly.
Shay Savage (Transcendence (Transcendence, #1))
He glances over his shoulder, no doubt hearing my insanely loud shoes stop in their tracks. Then he looks again. It’s a double take for the record books.
“I’m out stalking,” I call. It doesn’t come out the way I’d intended. It’s not lighthearted or funny. It comes out like a warning. I’m one scary bitch right now. I hold my hands up to show I’m not armed. My heart is racing.
“Me too,” he replies. Another cab cruises past like a shark.
“Where are you actually going?” My voice rings down the empty street.
“I just told you. I’m going out stalking.”
“What, on foot?” I come closer by another six paces. “You were going to walk?”
“I was going to run down the middle of the street like the Terminator.”
The laugh blasts out of me like bah.I’m breaking one of my rules by grinning at him, but I can’t seem to stop.
“You’re on foot, after all. Stilts.” He gestures at my sky-high shoes.
“It gives me a few extra inches of height to look through your garbage.”
“Find anything of interest?” He strolls closer and stops until we have maybe ten paces between us. I can almost pick up the scent of his skin.
“Pretty much what I was expecting. Vegetable scraps, coffee grounds, adult diapers.
Sally Thorne (The Hating Game)
Naptime," said Christian, leading her toward the bed.
"I still need a shower."
"Sleep first. Shower later." He pulled back the covers. "I'll sleep with you."
"Sleep or sleep?" she asked dryly, sliding gratefully into bed.
"Real sleep. You need it." He crawled in beside her, spooning against her and resting his face on her shoulder. "Of course, afterward, if you want to conduct any official Council business..."
"I swear, if you say 'Little Dragomirs,' you can sleep in the hall.
Richelle Mead (Last Sacrifice (Vampire Academy, #6))
Today I'm on tell you bout a man from outer space." She just loves hearing about peoples from outer space. Her favorite show on the tee-vee is My Favorite Martian, I pull on my antennae hats I shaped last night out a tin foil, fasten em on our heads. One for her and one for me. We look like we a couple a crazy people in them things.
"One day, a wise Martian come down to Earth to teach us people a thing or two," I say.
"Martian? How big?"
"oh, he about six-two."
"What's his name?"
"Martian Luther King."
She take a deep breath and lean her head down on my shoulder. I feel her three-year-old heart racing against mine, flapping like butterflies on my white uniform.
"He was a real nice Martian, Mister King. Looked just like us, nose, mouth, hair up on his head, but sometime people looked at him funny and sometime, well, I guess sometime people was just downright mean."
I coul get in a lot a trouble telling her these little stories, especially with Mister Leefolt. But Mae Mobley know these our "secret stories".
"Why Aibee? Why was they so mean to him?" she ask.
"Cause he was green.
Kathryn Stockett (The Help)
Julian,” said Jia, in the same gentle voice, “would you do something for us? Would you take up the Mortal Sword?”
Clary sat up straight. She had held the Mortal Sword: she had felt the weight of it. The cold, like hooks in your skin, dragging the truth out of you. You couldn’t lie holding the Mortal Sword, but the truth, even a truth you wanted to tell, was agony. “They can’t,” she whispered. “He’s just a kid —”
“He’s the oldest of the kids who escaped the Institute,” Jace said under his breath. “They don’t have a choice.”
Julian nodded, his thin shoulders straight. “I’ll take it.”
Robert Lightwood passed behind the podium then and went to the table. He took up the sword and returned to stand in front of Julian. The contrast between them was almost funny: the big, barrel-chested man and the lanky, wild-haired boy.
Julian reached a hand up and took the sword. As his hand closed around the hilt, he shuddered, a ripple of pain that was quickly forced down. Emma, behind him, started forward, and Clary caught a glimpse of the look on her face — pure fury — before Helen caught at her and pulled her back.
Cassandra Clare (City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6))
Barrons stood inside the front door, dripping cool old-world elegance.
I hadn’t heard him come in over the music. He was leaning, shoulder against the wall, arms folded, watching me.
“ ‘One eye is taken for an eye . . .’ ” I trailed off, deflating. I didn’t need a mirror to know how stupid I looked. I regarded him sourly for a moment, then moved for the sound dock to turn it off. When I heard a choked sound behind me I spun, and shot him a hostile glare.
He wore his usual expression of arrogance and boredom. I resumed my path for the sound dock, and heard it again. This time when I turned back, the corners of his mouth were twitching. I stared at him until they stopped.
I’d reached the sound dock, and just turned it off, when he exploded.
I whirled. “I didn’t look that funny,” I snapped.
His shoulders shook.
“Oh, come on! Stop it!”
He cleared his throat and stopped laughing. Then his gaze took a quick dart upward, fixed on my blazing MacHalo, and he lost it again. I don’t know, maybe it was the brackets sticking out from the sides. Or maybe I should have gotten a black bike helmet,
not a hot pink one.
I unfastened it and yanked it off my head. I stomped over to the door, flipped the interior lights back on, slammed him in the chest with my brilliant invention, and stomped upstairs.
“You’d better have stopped laughing by the time I come back down,” I shouted over my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure he even heard me, he was laughing so hard.
Karen Marie Moning (Faefever (Fever, #3))
Suit yourself.’ Sadie shouldered her pack, then helped Annabeth up. ‘You say Carter drew a hieroglyph on your boyfriend’s hand. All well and good, but I’d rather stay in touch with you directly.’
Annabeth smirked. ‘You’re right. Can’t trust boys to communicate.’
They exchanged cell-phone numbers.
‘Just don’t call unless it’s urgent,’ Annabeth warned. ‘Cell-phone activity attracts monsters.’
Sadie looked surprised. ‘Really? Never noticed. I suppose I shouldn’t send you any funny-face selfies on Instagram, then.’
‘Well, until next time.’ Sadie threw her arms round Annabeth.
Rick Riordan (The Staff of Serapis (Percy Jackson & Kane Chronicles Crossover, #2))
Let's see that wrist."
I held it out, and Chase's jaw tightened.
"Look at that!" the medic shouted, staring over my shoulder behind us. The moment I turned my head he grabbed my hand and jerked it toward him, hard.
A crack as the bones in my wrist realigned.
Kristen Simmons (Breaking Point (Article 5, #2))
- Dude, it's Jocelyn, I (Jordan) say looking over my shoulder nervously [...]
- This isn't Jocelyn, B.J says sighing. It's Jordan. Dude, try to play a better trick than that. You sound nothing like her. Plus your number came up on my caller ID.
PS: maybe I'm just in a very good mood, but I keep laughing while reading this book, there are plenty of scenes that make me smile, and this is one of them.. it's just hilarious how silly and funny these characters are ;))
Lauren Barnholdt (Two-Way Street)
An english baron wed to my daughter? I'll die first, I will." Johanna quit rubbing Claire's shoulder and stepped forward.
"A very rich baron," she blurted out. The laird frowned at Johanna with what she thought was indignation.
"Wealth is not an issue here," he muttered. "How rich?"
They were married an hour later.
Julie Garwood (Saving Grace)
What are you doing with all these books?" I asked, stepping towards a tall stack on the floor. I ran my fingers down the spines, recognizing a few familiar titles from School: Heart of Darkness, The Great Gatsby, and To the Lighthouse.
Caleb came beside me, his warm shoulder brushing against mine. "I do this funny thing sometimes," she said, shooting me a mischievous grin. "I open a book, and I look at each page. It's called reading
Anna Carey (Eve (Eve, #1))
Left my homework at home.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Funny, it being homework
you’d think home would be where it’s supposed to be but no, I need it at school, but you can’t call it
schoolwork because that’s just stuff you do at school but it really is schoolwork you do at home and
then bring it back so you could call it school-home-school work but either way it’s not here and I
need to get it from home and get it to school so home is where I need to go now.” I took a breath.
A. Kirk (Demons at Deadnight (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #1))
I squared my shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that I was standing in the apartment of the sea witch, wearing a fairy-tale prom gown, waiting for the attack of the mermaids.
Seanan McGuire (One Salt Sea (October Daye, #5))
Are you Darah, Renee or Taylor? You look like a Taylor to me," he said, looking me up and down.
I wasn't at my best, considering I was dressed for moving heavy objects in a blue UMaine t-shirt and black soccer shorts, and I had my light brown hair in a haphazard bun against the back of my neck. His eyes raked up and down twice, and for some reason the way he assessed me made me blush and want to kick him in the balls at the same time.
"There must be a mistake," I said.
He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "That's a creative name. What do you shorten it to? Missy?
Chelsea M. Cameron (My Favorite Mistake (My Favorite Mistake, #1))
I hated meatloaf. It was like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. So I told Mom because I was honest that way. I sat back, squared my shoulders, and met her eyes, all confident-like.
"Mom, meatloaf's like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. It should be outlawed, frankly, and serving it for dinner is like child abuse and should carry with it some pretty stiff penalties.
Hayden Thorne (Curse of Arachnaman (Masks #4))
Which is your bad shoulder?"
His brows knit together. "The left," he said carefully.
She slugged him in the right.
He staggered. Steadied himself. Grinned. "Is that like some weird Wyoming mating ritual thing I should know about?"
"Damn you," she cried, flying into his arms. Finally. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"
He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a coward.
Cindy Gerard (Show No Mercy (Black Ops Inc., #1))
Rush walked into the room with Nate in his arms and a baby bag over his shoulder. That was funny shit. Rush Finlay, badass rock star’s son, had a baby bag and a baby in his arms.
Abbi Glines (Simple Perfection (Rosemary Beach, #6; Perfection, #2))
She'd been in labor for nineteen hours; I completely understood why she wanted to pass the buck. 'You are so beautiful,' her husband crooned, holding up her shoulders.
'You are so full of shit,' Lila snarled, but as a contraction settled over her like a net, she bore down and pushed.
Jodi Picoult (Handle with Care)
On the fourth day, we came upon a cavern with a perfectly still pool that gave the illusion of a night sky, its depths sparkling with tiny luminescent fish.
Mal and I were slightly ahead of the others. He dipped his hand in, then yelped and drew back. “They bite.”
“Serves you right,” I said. “‘Oh, look, a dark lake full of something shiny. Let me put my hand in it.’”
“I can’t help being delicious,” he said, that familiar cocky grin flashing across his face like light over water. Then he seemed to catch himself. He shouldered his pack, and I knew he was about to move away from me.
I wasn’t sure where the words came from: “You didn’t fail me, Mal.”
He wiped his damp hand on his thigh. “We both know better.”
“We’re going to be traveling together for who knows how long. Eventually, you’re going to have to talk to me.”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“See? Is this so terrible?”
“It wouldn’t be,” he said, gazing at me steadily, “if all I wanted to do was talk.”
My cheeks heated. You don’t want this, I told myself. But I felt my edges curl like a piece of paper held too close to fire. “Mal—”
“I need to keep you safe, Alina, to stay focused on what matters. I can’t do that if . . .” He let out a long breath. “You were meant for more than me, and I’ll die fighting to give it to you. But please don’t ask me to pretend it’s easy.”
He plunged ahead into the next cave.
I looked down into the glittering pond, the whorls of light in the water still settling after Mal’s brief touch. I could hear the others making their noisy way through the cavern.
“Oncat scratches me all the time,” said Harshaw as he ambled up beside me.
“Oh?” I asked hollowly.
“Funny thing is, she likes to stay close.”
“Are you being profound, Harshaw?”
“Actually, I was wondering, if I ate enough of those fish, would I start to glow?”
I shook my head. Of course one of the last living Inferni would have to be insane. I fell into step with the others and headed into the next tunnel.
“Come on, Harshaw,” I called over my shoulder.
Then the first explosion hit.
Leigh Bardugo (Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #3))
He leaned against her, pressing his shoulder into hers. "Don't be mad at me," he said, sighing. "It makes me crazy."
"I'm never mad at you," she said.
"You must just be mad near me a lot.
Rainbow Rowell (Eleanor & Park)
His hands still on his shoulders.
“Hi,” he says. “Sorry.”
“For the fact that you are such a big flirt.”
He laughs. “You’re the one in my lap. I was just sitting here minding my own business.”
“Just the plane, then?”
I try to stand up, but he pulls me back down again.
“Man, the plane is really bumpy today,” he says.
Kasie West (The Distance Between Us (Old Town Shops, #1))
I think you're crazy good at this survival stuff, Cary."
His shoulders sag. He gives me a small, relieved smile and we start walking again, his step a little lighter than it was before. It feels strange to have that kind of power over someone.
"I mean, you're crazy good at it for a stoner who couldn't seem to get his shit together academically at all," I add.
Courtney Summers (This is Not a Test (This is Not a Test, #1))
I remember the first time I saw you,” Allie said.
“I thought you smelled me first.”
“Right,” said Allie. “The chocolate. But then I saw you as I sat up in the dead forest, thinking I knew you. At the time, I thought I must have seen you through the windshield when our cars crashed…. But that wasn’t it. I think, way back then, I was seeing you as you are now. Isn’t that funny?”
“Not as funny as the way I always complained, and the way you always bossed me around!”
They embraced and held each other for a long time.
“Don’t forget me,” Nick said. “No matter where your life goes, no matter how old you get. And if you ever get the feeling that someone is looking over your shoulder, but there’s nobody there, maybe it’ll be me.”
“I’ll write to you,” said Allie, and Nick laughed. “No really. I’ll write the letter then burn it, and if I care just enough it will cross into Everlost.”
“And,” added Nick, “it will show up as a dead letter at that the post office Milos made cross into San Antonio!”
Allie could have stood there saying good-bye forever, because it was more than Nick she was saying good-bye to. She was leaving behind four years of half-life in a world that was both stunningly beautiful, and hauntingly dark. And she was saying good-bye to Mikey. I’ll be waiting for you, he had said…. Well, if he was, maybe she wasn’t saying good-bye at all.
Nick hefted the backpack on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to Memphis?” he said. “You’d better hit the road…. Jack.” Then he chuckled by his own joke, and walked off.
Neal Shusterman (Everfound (Skinjacker, #3))
Dan moans behind me, reminding her of the problem. She straightens in fear at the sound of his voice, peers over my shoulder at the chunk of bloody beef that is Dan Sikorsky. She looks slowly from him to me. “What did you do?” I duck my head, embarrassed. “I sort of lost my temper.
Jasinda Wilder (Falling into You (Falling, #1))
Put me down. This isn’t funny.” My feet make little ineffectual spirals. This isn’t the first time a big kid’s thrown his weight around with me. Marcus DuShay in third grade once slung me onto the hood of the principal’s car and ran off laughing. The plight of the little humans. There is no dignity for us in this oversize world.
“Visit me up here for a sec.”
“What on earth for?” I try to slide down but he spans his hands on my waist and presses me against the wall. I squeeze his shoulders until I come to the informed conclusion that his body is extravagant muscle under these Clark Kent shirts.
“Holy shit.” His collarbone is like a crowbar under my palms. I say the only idiotic thing I can think of. “Muscles. Bones.”
Sally Thorne (The Hating Game)
I surrendered my identity in your eyes.
Now I'm just like everybody else, and it's so funny,
the way monogamy is funny, the way
someone falling down in the street is funny.
I entered a revolving door and emerged
as a human being. When you think of me
is my face electronically blurred?
I remember your collarbone, forming the tiniest
satellite dish in the universe, your smile
as the place where parallel lines inevitably crossed.
Now dinosaurs freeze to death on your shoulder.
I remember your eyes: fifty attack dogs on a single leash,
how I once held the soft audience of your hand.
I've been ignored by prettier women than you,
but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence
so far, without spilling a drop.
Haley took a deep breath and said,“I’m gay.”“You’re gay?” the obnoxious guy who’d been sniffing around her and bugging the heck out of her in line for the past ten minutes repeated. “Are you sure?”“Yes, I’m sure.”He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, do you think the two of you would want to-“
“No,” she said firmly.
“But what if I-“
“Come on, you won’t let me finish. I have this camera-“
“It would be fun-“
“But what if-“
“She said no,”Jason said as he cut in line and threw his arm around her shoulders in that lazy way of his.
“Hey! I thought you said you were gay!” the man said accusingly.Without missing a beat Jason said, “She is. I’m just her bitch.
She takes out a piece of paper that looks like the list I gave her months ago. Smiling her Hayley smile, she puts it in my hand.
"These are my reasons."
"You made me a list?"
She nods, smile still glued on her face.
"Gosh darn it, Brody. I love the heck out of you. You should know why too." (...)
There's one thing on the list. And its in big letters, and I bark out my laughter.
You're good in the sack.
"You dork." I toss the paper over my shoulder, and she laughs against my lips.
"Thought that would be the only one you cared about."
I shake my head, wiggling my nose against hers. I still amazes me that she's my girl.
Becca Ann (Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend)
Look, I wanted to mention something to you," I said. Play it off as casual. Play it off as no big deal. Be cool.
Her lips curled up in an amused smile. "Okay?"
"You know what a horrible prankster Will can be." She nodded and I continued: "I may have just done something to get back at him and I swear," I said, resting a hand on her shoulder, "I swear, Hanna, you'll think it's hilarious... eventually."
She considered me through narrowed eyes. "This is just a prank, right? No shaved heads or scars?"
I pulled back to study her. "That was a very specific question. Scars?" I shook my head, clearing it. "And no, no, no, no. Just a silly little prank." I gave Hanna my best smile, the one Chloe said made panties drop. But apparently it only made Hanna more suspicious.
Her eyes narrowed further. "What would I need to do?"
"Nothing," I said. "You'll probably see some weird stuff but just... go along with it."
"So, basically be oblivious."
"Exactly," I said.
"And this will be funny?"
She thought about it for a full ten seconds before reaching out to shake my hand. "You're on.
Christina Lauren (Beautiful Beginning (Beautiful Bastard, #3.5))
Elise hid her face in his shoulder, embarassed, "Kane! What will they think?" She whispered against his neck.
"That we're newly bonded and I can't keep my hands off of my lovely mate." And sure enough, the good natured calls that accompanied them across the yard left her in no doubt that the others were thinking exactly that.
Nicky Charles (The Mating (Law of the Lycans, #1))
I glared at him. “You didn't leave me alone for five minutes, you left me alone for a week. I could have hacked myself to pieces if there's been more than one mango in the house. You could have come home to a very gory scene. The press would have had a field day ... Gay Houseboy In Mango Tragedy. Bears arrested for leaving cub unattended for seven, almost eight whole days with an armed and dangerous killer mango roaming loose about the house.”
“I'd mercifully forgotten just how much of a loquacious tripe peddler you can be,” Shane took me by the shoulders and kissed me on the lips...
Gillibran Brown (Fun With Dick and Shane (Memoirs of a Houseboy, #1))
I made a sudden decision. "and my dog has followed me from town and cought up with us here. I left him with friends, but he must have chewed his rope. here, boy, come to heel."
I'll chew your heel off for you, Nighteyes offerd savagely, but he came, following me out into the cleared yard.
"Damn big dog," Nick observed. He leaned forward. "looks more than half a wolf to me."
"Some in Farrow have told me that. It's a buck breed. We use them for harding sheep."
You will pay for this. I promise you.
In answer I leaned down to pat his shoulder and then scratch his ears. Wag your tail, Nighteyes.
"He's a loyal old dog. I should have known he wouldn't be left behind."
The things i endure for you. He wagged his tail. Once.
Robin Hobb (Assassin's Quest (Farseer Trilogy, #3))
I love you, O'Reilly. When are you going to get that through your thick Aussie skull?"
He laughed softly, and she tilted back her head to look up at him wonderingly, "What's so funny?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed the tight muscles of her neck. "Do you realize you've never used my first name?" he said. "It's Patrick, you know."
He watched her lips curl into a smile that made his chest ache. "You've always been O'Reilly to me."
"Huh," he grunted. "Except when you're mad. Then I become Mister O'Reilly.
Candice Proctor (September Moon)
I curled up in the back next to Loki, his arm around me, and my head resting on his shoulder. My body ached all over, but it felt good being with him. He kissed the top of my head, and I snuggled up closer to him. He'd been helping me at the palace, but he'd waited until we were alone in the car to be affectionate. Willa had raised an eyebrow at us, but she said nothing. Later on, back in Forening, I'd have a thousand questions from her. But for now, she let us have our moment together.
"I can't wait until we get home," I said.
"Home,,"Loki said and laughed a little.
"What?" I lifted my head to look up at him. "What's funny about that?"
"Nothing." he shook his head. "i just...I don't think I've ever really felt like I had a home before." He smiled down at me. "Not until I met you."
Loki leaned down, kissing my gently on the mouth. I'm sure he wanted to kiss me more deeply, but he was afraid of hurting me. He continued to kiss me tenderly, and I clung to him as tightly as I could as heat swirled through me.
When he stopped, he rested his forehead against mine and breathed in deeply. "I cannot wait to get home with you, Princess."
"I'm the Queen now, you know," I teased, and he laughed and kissed me again.
Amanda Hocking (Ascend (Trylle, #3))
...You see I believe in that stuff to: yoga and mystical powers. I once knew a man who could kill himself on command. Can you believe that? . . . Why do you laugh? . . . Believe it! By will of his own mind, he could make his heart stop beating for good' My neighbor poised and looked seriously at me, searching in my eyes. '...You laugh!' he repeated once more… 'You laugh, but he was a master at it! He could commit suicide at his own will!'
Indeed, hearty laughter streamed through my nose. 'Could he do it perpetually?' I asked.
'Perpetually...?' My neighbor rubbed his waxy chin.
'I mean, is he still able to do it?'
'I’m not sure I understand.'
'Well? Then is he dead…?!'
My neighbor's puzzled face slowly began to transform into a look of realization. 'But sir,' he said, 'Of course he’s dead! I mean to say... this man could kill himself on command, you see. And you don’t come back from the dead!'
The two of us found ourselves crossing to the door so I could let my visitor out. I slapped him with friendliness on the shoulder.
'No, you don’t come back from the dead,' I agreed.
Amanda bit her lip. "You're not... trying to be funny or something, are you?"
"I'm not trying to be anything!" I said.
"All right, kids," the photographer called. "On the count of three. One, two-" She broke off, straightening up from the camera with a frown. "Excuse me. You in the turquoise? I need you to face forward."
I rotated my body as best I could.
"All the way, please."
I turned so that my shoulders werre even with everybody else's, only now my head faced Gail instead of the lens.
Gail pressed her lips together. "Stop it!" she said.
"Winnie?" Mr. Hutchinson said. He walked to the end of our row. "What's going on?"
"I can't," I whispered.
"Can't move my neck, it's stuck." Tears burned in my eyes, and I blinked hard to keep them back.
"Mr. Hutchinson, she's faking," Gail said. "She's trying to be funny and she's ruining everything.
Lauren Myracle (Eleven (The Winnie Years, #2))
Would you kick her ass already?" Dick said, shoving me back toward Missy. "Come on, Stretch, man up. You do better than this! Get mad."
I nodded, rolling a dislocated shoulder back into place with a grunt and staggering back toward my opponent.
Behind me, Zeb yelled, "She tried to hurt Fitz!" He turned to Gabriel and Dick. "That'll get her mad."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "She's been framed for murder twice over, shot in the back, her arms were set on fire, and her parents are being held hostage. You think tampered dog water is what's going to make her angry?"
"You tried to hurt my dog!" I wheezed as I lurched toward a grinning Missy.
Molly Harper (Nice Girls Don't Have Fangs (Jane Jameson, #1))
When I write, it feels like there are two little creatures that sit on each of my shoulders. One whispers, "You can do this. You've got what it takes." The other sounds like my mother-in-law.
Carla H. Krueger
We need to shop," Paul said, peering over his shoulder.
"True. We should do it together." [...]"We can hold up cucumbers in the produce section and make suggestive gestures at each other with them.
Kaje Harper (Unsettled Interlude (Hidden Wolves, #1.5))
She'd been pounding her location and thoughts into a device that would send those things to virtually any human with Internet access and yet looking over her shoulder had been a violation of privacy.
Stefan Bourque (My Name is Joe)
Lucifer looked over her shoulder. “What?”
Dahlia cleared her throat. “You stupid bitch, I hate you and love you. Do not wear anything Patience gave you, it’s all ugly. I am going to write on every single blank page. Ha-ha! Love, the Faithful slut.”
Lucifer scowled. “That person was mean to you.”
Dahlia grinned. “No way, Faith was funny. I was the bitch, she was the slut, and Patience was the crack whore.
Darcy Town (Morningstar (Morningstar, #1))
Passersby looked at us curiously. In the porch, Mr. Whitman held the church door open for us. “Hurry up, please,” he said. “We don’t want to attract attention.” No, sure, there was nothing likely to attract attention in two black limousines parking in North Audley Street in broad daylight so that men in suits could carry the Lost Ark out of the trunk of one of the cars, over the sidewalk, and into the church. Although from a distance the chest carrying it could have been a small coffin . . . The thought gave me goose bumps.
“I hope at least you remembered your pistol,” I whispered to Gideon.
“You have a funny idea of what goes on at a soiree,” he said, in a normal tone of voice, arranging the scarf around my shoulders. “Did anyone check what’s in your bag? We don’t want your mobile ringing in the middle of a musical performance.”
I couldn’t keep from laughing at the idea, because just then my ringtone was a croaking frog. “There won’t be anyone there who could call me except you,” I pointed out.
“And I don’t even know your number. Please may I take a look inside your bag?”
“It’s called a reticule,” I said, shrugging and handing him the little bag.
“Smelling salts, handkerchief, perfume, powder . . . excellent,” said Gideon. “All just as it should be. Come along.” He gave me the reticule back, took my hand, and led me through the church porch. Mr. Whitman bolted the door again behind us. Gideon forgot to let go of my hand once we were inside the church, which was just as well, because otherwise I’d have panicked at the last moment and run away.
Kerstin Gier (Saphirblau (Edelstein-Trilogie, #2))
Tis a funny thing, reflected the Count as he stood ready to abandon his suite. From the earliest age, we must learn to say good-bye to friends and family. We see our parents and siblings off at the station; we visit cousins, attend schools, join the regiment; we marry, or travel abroad. It is part of the human experience that we are constantly gripping a good fellow by the shoulders and wishing him well, taking comfort from the notion that we will hear word of him soon enough. But experience is less likely to teach us how to bid our dearest possessions adieu. And if it were to? We wouldn’t welcome the education. For eventually, we come to hold our dearest possessions more closely than we hold our friends. We carry them from place to place, often at considerable expense and inconvenience; we dust and polish their surfaces and reprimand children for playing too roughly in their vicinity—all the while, allowing memories to invest them with greater and greater importance. This armoire, we are prone to recall, is the very one in which we hid as a boy; and it was these silver candelabra that lined our table on Christmas Eve; and it was with this handkerchief that she once dried her tears, et cetera, et cetera. Until we imagine that these carefully preserved possessions might give us genuine solace in the face of a lost companion. But, of course, a thing is just a thing.
Amor Towles (A Gentleman in Moscow)
Hey, sweetheart. All alone in this palace?"
She arched a brow when she felt the hand on her bottom and turned her head slowly to stare at McNab.
He went red, then white, then red again. "Christ! Lieutenant. Sir."
"Your hand's on my ass, McNab. I don't think you want it to be there."
He snatched it away as if scorched. "God. Man. Shit. Beg your pardon. I didn't recognize you. I mean..." He jammed the hand he sincerely hoped she'd allow him to keep in his pocket. "I didn't know it was you. I thought... You look..." Words failed him.
"I believe Detective McNab is trying to compliment you, Eve." Roarke slipped up beside them and, because it was too much to resist, stared hard into McNab's panicked eyes. "Weren't you, Ian?"
"Yeah. That is..."
"And if I believed he'd realized it was your ass he was fondling, I'd just have to kill him. Right here." Roarke reached out and flicked at the strings of McNab's snazzy red tie. "Right now."
"Oh, I'd have already taken care of that myself," Eve said dryly. "You look like you could use a drink,Detective."
"Yes, sir. I could."
"Roarke, why don't you take care of him? Mira just came in. I want to talk to her."
"Delighted." Roarke draped an arm around McNab's shoulder and squeezed just a little harder than comfort allowed.
J.D. Robb (Holiday in Death (In Death, #7))
Blue pointed to a chair beneath the fake Tiffany lamp. "Sit."
"I'd rather stand."
She made a neat rack of teeth at the Gray Man. "Sit."
The Gray Man sat. He glanced over his shoulder, back down the hall, then back to her. He had those bright, active eyes that Dobermans and blue jays had.
"No one's going to murder you here." She handed him a glass of water. "That's not poisoned."
"Thanks." He set it doen but didn't drink it. "My only intentions right now are to ask her to dinner.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2))
Pritkin, it’s a hotel room, not a death trap!” A glance over his shoulder showed him impatient blue eyes under a fall of messy blond curls. “Anyway, you’re here.”
“I can’t protect you from everything,” he forced himself to say, because it was true. It was also frankly terrifying in a way that his own mortality was not. He’d never had children, but he sometimes wondered if this was how parents felt when catching sight of a fearless toddler confidently heading toward a busy street. Not that his charge was a child, as he was all too uncomfortably aware. But the knowledge of just how many potentially lethal pitfalls lay in her path sometimes caused him that same heart-clenching terror.
And the same overwhelming need to throw her over his lap and spank the living daylights out of her, he thought grimly, when she suddenly popped out of existence. “Cassie!
Karen Chance (A Family Affair (Cassandra Palmer, #4.1))
That wasn’t so bad,” I decided, after downing the shot. Maybe I was getting my rhythm.
“Because you threw it over your shoulder,” Scarface told me, looking smug.
“Did not.” I looked behind me, only to see an outraged vamp with fey wine dripping down his face. “Oops.”
“It was for luck,” Ray said defensively, wrapping both my hands around a glass.
Karen Chance (In Vino Veritas (Dorina Basarab, #2.1))
It was that summer, too, that I began the cutting, and was almost as devoted to it as to my newfound loveliness. I adored tending to myself, wiping a shallow red pool of my blood away with a damp washcloth to magically reveal, just above my naval: queasy. Applying alcohol with dabs of a cotton ball, wispy shreds sticking to the bloody lines of: perky. I had a dirty streak my senior year, which I later rectified. A few quick cuts and cunt becomes can't, cock turns into back, clit transforms to a very unlikely cat, the l and i turned into a teetering capital A.
The last words I ever carved into myself, sixteen years after I started: vanish.
Sometimes I can hear the words squabbling at each other across my body. Up on my shoulder, panty calling down to cherry on the inside of my right ankle. On the underside of a big toe, sew uttering muffled threats to baby, just under my left breast. I can quiet them down by thinking of vanish, always hushed and regal, lording over the other words from the safety of the nape of my neck.
Also: At the center of my back, which was too difficult to reach, is a circle of perfect skin the size of a fist.
Over the years I've made my own private jokes. You can really read me. Do you want me to spell it out for you? I've certainly given myself a life sentence. Funny, right? I can't stand to look myself without being completely covered. Someday I may visit a surgeon, see what can be done to smooth me, but now I couldn't bear the reaction. Instead I drink so I don't think too much about what I've done to my body and so I don't do any more. Yet most of the time that I'm awake, I want to cut. Not small words either. Equivocate. Inarticulate. Duplicitous. At my hospital back in Illinois they would not approve of this craving.
For those who need a name, there's a gift basket of medical terms. All I know is that the cutting made me feel safe. It was proof. Thoughts and words, captured where I could see them and track them. The truth, stinging, on my skin, in a freakish shorthand. Tell me you're going to the doctor, and I'll want to cut worrisome on my arm. Say you've fallen in love and I buzz the outlines of tragic over my breast. I hadn't necessarily wanted to be cured. But I was out of places to write, slicing myself between my toes - bad, cry - like a junkie looking for one last vein. Vanish did it for me. I'd saved the neck, such a nice prime spot, for one final good cutting. Then I turned myself in.
Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects)
It is a funny thing. A man can make a promise to his God, break it five minutes later and never think about it. With an idle shrug of his shoulders, a man can break solemn promises to his mother, wife or sweetheart, and, except for a slight momentary twinge of conscience, he still won't be bothered very much. But if a man ever breaks a promise to himself he disintegrates. His entire personality and character crumble into tiny pieces, and he is never the same man again.
I remember very well a sergeant I knew in the army. Before a group of five men he swore off smoking forever. An hour later he sheepishly lit a cigarette and broke his vow to the five of us and to himself. He was never quite the same man again, not to me, and not to himself.
Charles Willeford (Cockfighter)
My mind blurs to a ripple of pleasure when his soft, full lips at last make contact with mine. He starts to deepen the kiss, but pauses, intent on the glass behind me. “You gotta be kidding.”
I glance over my shoulder. Outside, Morpheus hangs on the glass in moth form, level with my head, glaring at us with his bulbous gaze. Even without a face, his smugness is apparent. His favorite pastime is interrupting Jeb’s romantic moments. I try not to laugh, but can’t help myself.
“Cocky son of a bug.” Jeb sets me on the floor and draws the dropcloth tighter around me.
A barn owl swoops from the sky and skims the glass. Morpheus launches off in a tizzy, trying to outrun the bird. Now Jeb’s the one laughing.
I slap his shoulder. “Hey, that’s not funny.”
“Ah, he’ll be okay.” Jeb raises an eyebrow, watching the aerial pursuit taking place outside the glass. “It’s a new genus of vegetarian owls. They’re only in it for the chase. Besides, Morphie-boy can change to his other form anytime he wants.”
A.G. Howard (Ensnared (Splintered, #3))
And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again, Horace shrugged innocently.
"Well, there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?"
Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?"
His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity.
"Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little.
"I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added.
John Flanagan (Halt's Peril (Ranger's Apprentice, #9))
Cole steps forward, his fingers reaching around my shoulders, and kisses me.
It is sudden and smooth and soft as air against my lips. The wind whips around us, tugging at the fabric of our clothes, but not pulling us apart.
And then it's gone, the cool pressure against my lips, and my eyes are open and looking into two gray eyes like river rocks.
"/That's/ what you wanted to show me?"
"No," he says, his fingers slipping down my arms as he leads me off the path and out, away from Near. "That was just in case.
Victoria Schwab (The Near Witch (The Near Witch, #1))
Memories are weird. They never really leave you alone, no matter how much you try, and the funny part is--the more you try, the more they haunt you. The more you want to run away, the faster they seem to catch up, and then there comes a time when you are convinced that you have finally managed to leave them behind and move on. You rejoice. You celebrate. You have exorcised the ghosts of the past--you feel liberated, UNTIL one fine day, some old memory creeps up slowly from behind and taps you on your shoulder just to say "Hi. How’s it going so far?". That is when everything comes rushing in, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, it had never really gone away.
Priyanka Naik (Twists Of Fate)
He cupped my chin with his big hand and watched me. He breathed hard through his nose. His shoulders heaved way harder than they should have after a few minutes
of kissing. I was about to suggest some additional conditioning exercises before football season started. I opened my mouth to tell him.
He kissed me again. His tongue passed my lips and played across my teeth. We’d only been kissing like this for a week, but it seemed very natural when I kissed him back
the same way. My body was on autopilot as I reached blindly for his waist and dragged him even closer, his torso skin-to-skin with mine against the tree. Who were we? I
was turning into any of the assorted older girls who’d been seen leaving the cab of Sean’s truck at night. I’d always viewed those girls with a mixture of awe and derision.
Sexual attraction was funny. Lust was hilarious.
Now, not so much. Those girls had my sympathy, because I totally got it. I ran my fingers lightly up Adam’s bare back.
I opened my eyes to see if I’d done something wrong. He still touched the tree, but his muscles were taut, holding on to it for dear life. His eyes were closed. He rubbed
his rough cheek slowly against mine. I had done nothing wrong. He was savoring.
I knew how he felt. Tracing my fingernails down his back again, I whispered, “Stubble or what?”
Eyes still closed, he chuckled. “I’m not shaving until our parents let us date again.” He kissed my cheek.
“What if it takes… a… while?” I asked, struggling to talk.
Jennifer Echols (Endless Summer (The Boys Next Door, #1-2))
They regarded each other for a moment. He lay down once more, and after a moment she followed and jumped a little when she found out that he had slid his arm beneath her shoulders. There was a self-conscious moment of mutual discomfort before she turned onto her side abs curled towards him. Tightening his arm around her, he spoke into the top of her head.
‘You know what I can’t understand? You have all these people telling you all the time how great you are, smart, funny and talented and all that, I mean endlessly, I’ve been telling you for years. So why don’t you believe it? Why do you think people say that stuff, Em? Do you think it’s a conspiracy, people secretly ganging up to be nice to you?
David Nicholls (One Day)
Because what does it mean, to say that things aren't going well? Compared to what? You can say: compared to how things were going a couple of hours ago, or a couple of years ago. But that's not the point. If two cars are speeding towards a brick wall with no brakes, and one car hits the wall moments before the other, you can't spend those moments saying the second car is much better off than the first. Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we've passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we're going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes. Us, or anyone else. Because we're not comparing it with anything. And anyway, we're all dead, or never born, and the whole thing really is a dream
There, you see. That's a funny side.
Hugh Laurie (The Gun Seller)
Love is—” She shifted in her saddle, fighting to sit taller, to convey a larger sense of self. “It isn’t something that can be understood or explained. It’s intangible. Like magic. Those who do not possess its power can never fully grasp it.”
Ranmaru inclined his head. “That sounds rather sad.”
“And smells like horseshit,” Ōkami said over his shoulder.
Renée Ahdieh (Flame in the Mist (Flame in the Mist, #1))
Blake hung an arm on my shoulders. “Alone at last.”
“I’m right here,” Logan said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be.
A. Kirk (Demons at Deadnight (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #1))
With his blond hair, broad shoulders, and perpetual tan,
Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I’d thought about him in his underwear.
Chris Cannon (Blackmail Boyfriend)
Did you just call me ‘sweetie’?” I asked.
She shoved my shoulder. “No.
Joel N. Ross (The Lost Compass (The Fog Diver, #2))
Hey, what are you doing with your hand?” Eli’s voice came out high pitched in surprise, as she clutched at Rafe’s shoulders.
“It’s the best place for leverage if you’re going to make that ladder.”
“My ass? Really?”
“What can I say, I’ve done the math, factored in the weight and height ratios and your ass is definitely where I will gain the most leverage in lifting you.
Jane Cousins (To Thrill A Thief (Southern Sanctuary, #8))
He looks up.
Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.
He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.
He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.
He is so much more.
Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.
My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs.
"Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.
I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."
Phew.A steady voice.
He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"
I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!"
"Hey,Anna. How was your break?"
John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank.
We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?"
The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs.
"I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present."
"For me? But I didn't get you anything!"
He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited."
"Ooo,what is it?"
"I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-"
"Etienne! Come on!"
He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."
Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned.
"Whoops," I say.
He tilts his head at me.
"I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal.
Where is it? What is it?
"Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too.
It's a glass bead.A banana.
He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..."
I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you."
"Mum wondered why I wanted it."
"What did you tell her?"
"That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh.
I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
As it happens, I’m a terrible dancer. Bears are simply not made for dancing. We’re much better at sitting and sleeping and singing. But there are humans who catch bears and force us to dance. It’s agony. And there are other humans who pay to watch us.’
Hannah sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right to distrust humans.’
‘And that is why I must eat you,’ said the bear forlornly. ‘For the benefit of the entire bear population of the world. I’m awfully sorry about this.’
‘That’s all right.’ Hannah shrugged her shoulders. ‘Is there any point in my trying to run away?’
‘None. We bears may not be able to dance but we are experts when it comes to chasing things.’
‘What if I climb a tree?’
‘I’ll climb up after you, or push the tree over. It all depends on what sort of tree you choose to climb. Either way, you’ll end up eaten.’
‘So be it,’ said Hannah. ‘How should I prepare myself?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Will you eat me with my clothes on?’
‘Of course. Otherwise it would be bad manners.
Doug MacLeod (The Clockwork Forest)
Okay, you gotta be nice to him, " I say, coaxing the white fur-ball into my hands.
"I will," Nate says, and I smile over my shoulder.
"I was actually talking to Mr. Pippi. He's a bit of a butthole.
Cassie Mae (True Love and Magic Tricks (Beds, #0.5))
We all looked at Shelton, who rolled his eyes. “Like my vote matters now.”
Hi patted his back. “If it makes you feel better, your vote’s never mattered.”
“Hilarious.” Shelton rubbed his face. “I hope my parole officer finds you as funny.”
I sprang up and hurried for the exit, stopping Chance with a hand on his shoulder. “Give me a second alone with Ben. He’s still worked up, probably needs a few minutes to decompress.”
Chance’s expression soured, but he held back.
Hi fired a shooter my way. “Good idea. We need him mission focused. Rodger dodger.”
Shelton covered his face with his hands. “Enough already.
Kathy Reichs (Terminal (Virals, #5))
While Brambleclaw paused to taste the air, she crouched down beside one of the puddles and touched the ice with her tongue, grateful for the tingling freshness. “Come on,” the Clan deputy meowed. “This way.” Hollyleaf tried to jump up, only to stop with a strangled cry of dismay. Her tongue had frozen to the ice; a sharp pain shot through it as she tried to wrench herself free. “What’s the matter?” Lionblaze asked. “My tongue . . .” Hollyleaf could hardly get the words out. “It’th thtuck!” Lionblaze snorted as he suppressed a mrrow of laughter. Birchfall stooped down until he was nose to nose with Hollyleaf; irritation swelled inside her when she saw amusement dancing in his eyes. “It’th not funny!” she mumbled as clearly as she could with her tongue plastered to the ice. “Stand back.” Brackenfur’s calm voice came from behind Hollyleaf. “Let me have a look.” He leaned beside Birchfall, gently shouldering the younger cat out of the way. “Well, you’re certainly stuck,” he went on. Hollyleaf could tell that he was struggling not to laugh, too. “I suppose we could break off the ice. Then you’d have to carry it until it melts.” “Hey, you’ve discovered a new way to fetch water for the elders!” Hazeltail put in. Her pelt itching with frustration, Hollyleaf tried again to wrench her tongue free, only getting another stab of pain for her efforts. “It hurt-th! Do thomething!” She pictured herself crouched on the hard ground with her tongue stretched out, and suddenly she felt laughter bubbling up inside her. I guess I do look pretty funny. She couldn’t remember the last time she had found anything to laugh at.
Erin Hunter (Sunrise (Warriors: Power of Three #6))
Yes, I hate blown glass art and I happen to live in the blown glass art capital of the world, Seattle, Washington. Being a part of the Seattle artistic community, I often get invited to galleries that are displaying the latest glass sculptures by some amazing new/old/mid-career glass blower. I never go. Abstract art leaves me feeling stupid and bored. Perhaps it’s because I grew up inside a tribal culture, on a reservation where every song and dance had specific ownership, specific meaning, and specific historical context. Moreover, every work of art had use—art as tool: art to heal; art to honor, art to grieve. I think of the Spanish word carnal, defined as, ‘Of the appetites and passions of the body.’ And I think of Gertrude Stein’s line, ‘Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.’ When asked what that line meant, Stein said, ‘The poet could use the name of the thing and the thing was really there.’ So when I say drum, the drum is really being pounded in this poem; when I say fancydancer, the fancydancer is really spinning inside this poem; when I say Indian singer, that singer is really wailing inside this poem. But when it comes to abstract art—when it comes to studying an organically shaped giant piece of multi-colored glass—I end up thinking, ‘That looks like my kidney. Anybody’s kidney, really. And frankly, there can be no kidney-shaped art more beautiful—more useful and closer to our Creator—than the kidney itself. And beyond that, this glass isn’t funny. There’s no wit here. An organic shape is not inherently artistic. It doesn’t change my mind about the world. It only exists to be admired. And, frankly, if I wanted to only be in admiration of an organic form, I’m going to watch beach volleyball. I’m always going to prefer the curve of a woman’s hip or a man’s shoulder to a piece of glass that has some curves.
Sherman Alexie (Face)
What do you think?” I asked, a teasing smile curving my lips. “Did we know each other in another life?”
He gave a faint smile. “I can guarantee it.”
I looked up at him, surprised by his seriousness. “Oh really?” I said, cocking an eyebrow coyly, “So what was I like, oh-expert-on-my-past-life?”
A smile touched his lips. As he thought, he seemed to be in another place.
When he came out of his trance, he answered, “Similar to how you are now. Smart,funny, stunningly beautiful . . . and you were a horrible pool player then too.” He laughed as I punched him in the shoulder.
“Very funny,” I said.
“Your punches used to hurt less though.
they gave him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and soon he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and higher and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. It
J.M. Barrie (The Complete Adventures of Peter Pan)
Wait!" she cried, and she yanked away from him and gathered her heels and her ruined
purse. She slid the shoes on and straightened her shoulders. "I will go as a lady should," she claimed bravely. "In patent leather heels.
Abigail Roux (Fish & Chips (Cut & Run, #3))
You are a remarkable man, Charles Cornick.”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and put his chin on the top of her head. “I know,” he confided lightly. “And often underappreciated by those who don’t know any better.”
She poked him with a finger and looked up at him. “And funny—though I expect that is another facet of your character that goes unappreciated even more often than your remarkableness.”
“Some people don’t even notice,” he said in a mock-mournful voice.
Patricia Briggs (Hunting Ground (Alpha & Omega, #2))
Will and Lake,
Love is the most beautiful thing in the world. Unfortunately, it's also one of the hardest things in the world to hold on to, and one of the easiest to throw away.
Neither of you has a mother or a father to go to for relationship advice anymore. Neither of you has anyone to go to for a shoulder to cry on when things get touch, and they will get touch. Neither of you has someone to go to when you just want to share the funny, or the happy, or the heartache. You are both at a disadvantage when it comes to this aspect of love. You both only have each other, and because of this, you will have to work harder at building a strong foundation for your future together. You are not only each other's love; you are also one another's sole confidant.
I hand wrote some things onto strips of paper and folded them into stars. It might be an inspirational quote, an inspiring lyric, or just some downright good parental advice. I don't want you to open one and read it until you truly feel you need it. If you have a bad day, if the two of you fight, or if you just need something to lift your spirits...that's what these are for. You can open one together; you can open one alone. I just want there to be something both of you can go to, if and when you ever need it.
Will...thank you. Thank you for coming into our lives. So much of the pain and worry I've been feeling has been alleviated by the mere fact that I know my daughter is loved by you....You are a wonderful man, and you've been a wonderful friend to me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my daughter like you do. You respect her, you don't need to change for her, and you inspire her. You can never know how grateful I have been for you, and how much peace you have brought my soul.
And Lake; this is me-nudging your shoulder, giving you my approval. You couldn't have picked anyone better to love if I would have hand-picked him myself. Also, thank you for being so determined to keep our family together. You were right about Kel needing to be with you. Thank you for helping me see that. And remember when things get touch for him, please teach him how to stop caring pumpkins...
I love you both and with you a lifetime of happiness together.
"And all around my memories, you dance..." ~The Avett Brothers
Colleen Hoover (Point of Retreat (Slammed, #2))
What’s wrong?” Billy’s question had me looking up. My second-oldest brother was already dressed for work in his suit and tie. “And shouldn’t you be fishing with Hank?”
“I cancelled. I have an errand to run.” Grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet, I tossed a thumb over my shoulder. “The toilet is acting funny.”
“Like what? You mean satire?” This question came from Cletus, not bothering to glance away from where he was reading at the table. He was still in his pajamas, his curly hair a mess.Nevertheless, I was surprised to see him up so early.
“No, I mean—”
“I hope it’s a dark comedy,” he added, still not removing his attention from the newspaper.
“Cletus. That’s disgusting.”Sitting across from Cletus, Duane’s tone was reprimanding.
Finally, Cletus tore his eyes from the paper. “What?”
“Dark comedy?” My twin lifted his eyebrows.“Meaning poop?”
“No, Duane.” Cletus paired this with a suffering sigh.
“That would make it a shitty comedy,” I piped in, adding fuel to the conversation fire as I was prone to do, feeling more myself as I smiled.
“Y’all are a bunch of toilets,” Billy mumbled under his breath.
We all turned our attention to our older brother, with Cletus speaking for us, “Let me guess, because toilets in this house actfunny?”
Billy tilted his cup toward Cletus. “Exactly.”
I grinned, the rawness in me settling. Being around my brothers was a salve and a good reminder. We had all lived through dark times—sometimes together, sometimes separately—yet here we were, making toilet jokes on a Wednesday before 7:00 AM.
Penny Reid (Beard in Mind (Winston Brothers, #4))
Dying was OK because it was sleep and there wasn't no gray ball in death, was there? Was there? She would have to ask somebody about that, somebody she could confide in, and who knew a lot of things, like Sula, for Sula would know or if she didn't she would say something funny that would make it all right. Ooo no, not Sula. Here she was in the midst of it, hating it, scared of it, and again she thought of Sula as though they were still friends and talked things over. That was too much. To lose Jude and not have Sula to talk to about it because it was Sula that he had left her for.
Now her thighs were really empty. And it was then that what those women said about never looking at another man made some sense to her, for the real point, the heart of what they said, was the word looked. Not to promise never to make love to another man, not to refuse to marry another man, but to promise and know that she could never afford to look again, to see and accept the way in which their heads cut the air or see moons or tree limbs framed by their necks and shoulders... never to look, for now she could not risk looking - and anyway, so what? For now her thighs were truly empty and dead too and it was Sula who had taken the life from them and Jude who smashed her heart and the both of them who left her with no thighs and no heart just her brain raveling away.
Toni Morrison (Sula)
Tate gave me your birthday present when you were here before,” she confessed. “I put it on top of the cabinet in the dining room and forgot to give it to you. Here, I’ll fetch it!”
Cecily felt as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her just at the sound of his name. She could almost taste him on her mouth, feel the fierce hunger of his body as he pressed her into the wall…
“He remembered my birthday,” she said faintly, touched.
“He always remembers it, but he said you weren’t speaking then.” She handed the small box to Cecily. “Go on,” she said when the younger woman hesitated. “Open it.”
Cecily’s hands went cold and trembled as she tore off the wrappings. It was a jewelry box. I wasn’t a ring, of course, she told herself as she forced up the hinged lid. He certainly wouldn’t buy her a…
“The beast!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how could he?”
Leta looked over her shoulder at what was in the box and dissolved into gales of laughter.
Cecily glared at her. “It isn’t funny.”
“Oh, yes it is!”
Cecily looked back down at the silver crab with its ruby eyes and pearl claws, and one corner of her mouth tugged up. “He is pretty, isn’t he?”
She took the pin out of the box and studied it. It wasn’t silver. It was white gold. Those were real rubies and pearls, too. This hadn’t been an impulse purchase. He’d had this custom-made for her. Tears stung her eyes. It was the sort of present you gave to someone who meant something to you. She remembered his passionate kisses, and wished with all her heart that he’d meant those, too.
She pinned the small crab onto the collar of her blouse and knew that she’d treasure it as long as she lived.
Diana Palmer (Paper Rose (Hutton & Co. #2))
Aurora!” Dad came running out.
“We’re going to head home.” Dad leaned against a post at the bottom of the steps. “Hey, guys. What’re you talking about?”
I smiled. “Just…girl stuff.”
“Tampons,” Blake blurted.
My jaw dropped. Dad’s eyes went wide. “Well, that’s…very…uh…” He backed a few steps. Glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll just…um…Gemma!” And he was sprinting toward the building.
“Blake!” we all snapped.
“Sorry, I panicked.”
“Aurora,” Ayden said. “You’d better—before your mom—”
“Yep.” I raced down the steps. “Dad, he was kidding!
A. Kirk (Demons at Deadnight (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #1))
One of the great leaders of America was Daniel Webster. That great bulging brow of his and those blazing eyes used to hold the Senate spellbound as he stood there and talked to them not with silly quips or funny remarks. The Senate in those days was not composed of half-baked comedians but of strong, noble statesmen who carried the weight of the nation on their shoulders. Someone said, “Mr. Webster, what do you consider the most serious thought that has ever entered your mind?” He said, “The most solemn thought that has ever entered my mind is the accountability to my Maker.
A.W. Tozer (And He Dwelt Among Us: Teachings from the Gospel of John)
She was wearing a dress of some soft dark red material, and sitting as she was with the light from the long narrow window behind her, she reminded Kemp of a stained glass figure he had once seen in a cathedral abroad. The long oval of her face and the slight angularity of her shoulders helped the illusion. Saint Somebody or other, they had told him—but Lady Alexandra Farraday was no saint—not by a long way. And yet some of these old saints had been funny people from his point of view, not kindly ordinary decent Christian folk, but intolerant, fanatical, cruel to themselves and others.
Agatha Christie (Sparkling Cyanide (Colonel Race, #4))
Hope you got your things together.’” I sang, stabbing a pillow with my spear. Feathers exploded into the air. “‘Hope you are quite prepared to die!’” I spun in a dazzling whirl of lights, landed a killer back-kick on a phantom Shade, and simultaneously punched the magazine rack. “‘Looks like we’re in for nasty weather!’” I took a swan dive at a short, imaginary Shade, lunged up at a taller one—
Barrons stood inside the front door, dripping cool-world elegance.
I hadn’t heard him come in over the music. He was leaning, shoulder against the wall, arms folded, watching me.
“‘One eye is taken for an eye . . .’” I trailed off, deflating. I didn’t need a mirror to know how stupid I looked. I regarded him sourly for a moment, then moved for the sound dock to turn it off. When I heard a choked sound behind me I spun, and shot him a hostile glare. He wore his usual expression of arrogance and boredom. I resumed my path for the sound dock, and heard it again. This time when I turned back, the corners of his mouth were twitching. I stared at him until they stopped.
I’d reached the sound dock, and just turned it off, when he exploded.
I whirled. “I didn’t look that funny,” I snapped.
His shoulders shook.
“Oh, come on! Stop it!”
He cleared his throat and stopped laughing. Then his gaze took a quick dart upward, fixed on my blazing MacHalo, and he lost it again. I don’t know, maybe it was the brackets sticking out from the sides. Or maybe I should have gotten a black bike helmet, not a hot pink one.
I unfastened it and yanked it off my head. I stomped over to the door, flipped the interior lights back on, slammed him in the chest with my brilliant invention, and stomped upstairs.
“You’d better have stopped laughing by the time I come back down,” I shouted over my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure he even heard me, he was laughing so hard.
Karen Marie Moning (Faefever (Fever, #3))
(Family rumor has it that he was originally cloistered off - that is relieved of his duties as a secular priest in Astoria - to free him of a persistent temptation to administer the sacramental wafer to his parishioners' lips by standing back two or three feet and trajecting it in a lovely arc over his left shoulder.)
J.D. Salinger (Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction)
He had, it took me a while to realize, four personalities depending on which bathing suit he was wearing. Knowing which to expect gave me the illusion of a slight advantage. Red: bold, set in his ways, very grown-up, almost gruff and ill-tempered-- stay away. Yellow: sprightly, buoyant, funny, not without barbs-- don't give in too easily; might turn to red in no time. Green, which he seldom wore: acquiescent, eager to learn, eager to speak, sunny--why wasn't he always like this? Blue: the afternoon he stepped into my room from the balcony, the day he massaged my shoulder, or when he picked up my glass and placed it right next to me.
André Aciman (Call Me by Your Name)
One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old Haas would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills
What happened to you?” she asked.
“Bullets hurt,” he said. “It missed the artificial arm by two inches, damn the marksman. I hate people who can’t shoot straight.”
“How many this time?” she asked with a smile.
“Just one,” he said. “In the shoulder. It’s much better now.” He shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this. I’ve got so many broken bones that I can’t move fast enough anymore.”
She smiled wider. “Someday you’ll find a woman who’s worth giving up the danger for.” The smile faded. “You’re like Tate. He loves his work. He probably lives on adrenaline. Funny. I never understood that before. Now suddenly everything is clear. I was living on pipe dreams.”
He sighed. “It was more than his heritage that kept him away from you,” he said. “I knew, but I couldn’t explain it to you. Work like ours demands sacrifice. Any loved one can become a hostage. Any relationship can take away the edge we need when we’re under fire. A man with something to lose isn’t a man to send on a potential suicide mission. Take your mind off the objective for one minute, and you’re dead.
Diana Palmer (Paper Rose (Hutton & Co. #2))
He smells funny,” the kid said. “He’s been rinsed through pretty good.” “With that whisky?” the kid asked. “Yes, sir. Some men take to it. I never did.” “Why not? Does it do bad things?” The old man looked at him over his shoulder. “Keeps varmints away,” he said. “How so?” “Savvy what a varmint is?” “Yeah,” the kid said. “Pests. Things you don’t want around.” “Well, whisky keeps things away that some people don’t want around neither. Like dreams, recollections, wishes, other people sometimes.” The old man turned on the stool and set the milk pail down on the floor between his feet. “Things get busted sometimes. When they happen in the world you can fix ’em most times. But when they happen inside a person they’re harder to mend. Eldon got broke up pretty bad inside,” he said.
Richard Wagamese (Medicine Walk)
You heard me. Let someone else send you to your blaze of glory. You're a speck, man. You're nothing. You're not worth the bullet or the mark on my soul for taking you out."
You trying to piss me off again, Patrick?" He removed Campbell Rawson from his shoulder and held him aloft.
I tilted my wrist so the cylinder fell into my palm, shrugged. "You're a joke, Gerry. I'm just calling it like I see it."
Absolutely." I met his hard eyes with my own. "And you'll be replaced, just like everything else, in maybe a week, tops. Some other dumb, sick shit will come along and kill some people and he'll be all over the papers, and all over Hard Copy and you'll be yesterday's news. Your fifteen minutes are up, Gerry. And they've passed without impact."
They'll remember this," Gerry said. "Believe me."
Gerry clamped back on the trigger. When he met my finger, he looked at me and then clamped down so hard that my finger broke.
I depressed the trigger on the one-shot and nothing happened.
Gerry shrieked louder, and the razor came out of my flesh, then swung back immediately, and I clenched my eyes shut and depressed the trigger frantically three times.
And Gerry's hand exploded.
And so did mine.
The razor hit the ice by my knee as I dropped the one shot and fire roared up the electrical tape and gasoline on Gerry's arm and caught the wisps of Danielle's hair.
Gerry threw his head back and opened his mouth wide and bellowed in ecstasy.
I grabbed the razor, could barely feel it because the nerves in my hand seemed to have stopped working.
I slashed into the electric tape at the end of the shotgun barrel, and Danielle dropped away toward the ice and rolled her head into the frozen sand.
My broken finger came back out of the shotgun and Gerry swung the barrels toward my head.
The twin shotgun bores arced through the darkness like eyes without mercy or soul, and I raised my head to meet them, and Gerry's wail filled my ears as the fire licked at his neck.
Good-bye, I thought. Everyone. It's been nice.
Oscar's first two shots entered the back of Gerry's head and exited through the center of his forehead and a third punched into his back.
The shotgun jerked upward in Gerry's flaming arm and then the shots came from the front, several at once, and Gerry spun like a marionette and pitched toward the ground. The shotgun boomed twice and punched holes through the ice in front of him as he fell.
He landed on his knees and, for a moment, I wasn't sure if he was dead or not. His rusty hair was afire and his head lolled to the left as one eye disappeared in flames but the other shimmered at me through waves of heat, and an amused derision shone in the pupil.
Patrick, the eye said through the gathering smoke, you still know nothing.
Oscar rose up on the other side of Gerry's corpse, Campbell Rawson clutched tight to his massive chest as it rose and fell with great heaving breaths. The sight of it-something so soft and gentle in the arms of something so thick and mountaineous-made me laugh.
Oscar came out of the darkness toward me, stepped around Gerry's burning body, and I felt the waves of heat rise toward me as the circle of gasoline around Gerry caught fire.
Burn, I thought. Burn. God help me, but burn.
Just after Oscar stepped over the outer edge of the circle, it erupted in yellow flame, and I found myself laughing harder as he looked at it, not remotely impressed.
I felt cool lips smack against my ear, and by the time I looked her way, Danielle was already past me, rushing to take her child from Oscar.
His huge shadow loomed over me as he approached, and I looked up at him and he held the look for a long moment.
How you doing, Patrick?" he said and smiled broadly.
And, behind him, Gerry burned on the ice.
And everything was so goddamned funny for some reason, even though I knew it wasn't. I knew it wasn't. I did. But I was still laughing when they put me in the ambulance.
So he slips his head off of Jeff's shoulder and slides out from under Evan's Armand shuffles down to the bottom of the bed. It doesn't have a lot of dignity this part of their sleeping arrangement. He's complained about this before but Jeff just nodded, and Evan had kissed the back of his neck, and they'd both snuggled in a little tighter, pinning him in the middle even more effectively than before.
Kate Sherwood (Out of the Darkness (Dark Horse, #2))
Tiberius sparred, “Mr. Monogamy doesn’t find my shenanigans funny? Oh thank god, if you did I’d have to chuck it all and join a monastery.”
Thorne sparred, “You’d never be able to stop talking long enough.”
Frost laughed, “He’d light on fire as soon as he stepped through the gate.”
“Right alongside of you,” Tiberius said, patting Frost’s shoulder.
“Touché,” Frost chuckled. “You do have me there.
Jenn,” I said very loudly, sidestepping Jackson and inserting myself between the two of them. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Have you?” she asked, her sweet face tipped back and her impossibly pretty eyes arresting mine.
“Yes. I have,” I said, then promptly forgot what I was going to say next. I sensed a hovering presence behind me so I glanced over my shoulder at Jackson—the hoverer—and frowned impatiently. “Do you mind? Give a man some space.”
“That’s real funny, Cletus,” he said, not sounding amused. “Because I was just—”
“Do you have any—uh—taffy?” I asked Jennifer, not wanting to hear Jackson’s complaining. If he was going to complain, I decided it was best to pretend he was a ghost. Taffy was the first thing to pop into my mind.
“Taffy?” Her dark eyebrows drew together; I wondered if her real hair color would be the same dark shade as her eyebrows. I hoped so.
“Yes. Taffy,” I said gently, and smiled when she smiled and shrugged. “I like to live dangerously.”
She opened her mouth, just about to ask me something and I couldn’t wait to find out what, when Jackson cut in impatiently. “By eating taffy?”
“Yep,” I turned just my head and gave him my profile. “It puts my dental fillings in grave peril.
Penny Reid (Beard Science (Winston Brothers, #3))
Hermione made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand and drape themselves artistically over the trees and bushes.
“Nice,” said Ron, as with one final flourish of her wand, Hermione turned the leaves on the crabapple tree to gold. “You’ve really got an eye for that sort of thing.”
“Thank you, Ron!” said Hermione, looking both pleased and a little confused. Harry turned away, smiling to himself. He had a funny notion that he would find a chapter on compliments when he found time to peruse his copy of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches; he caught Ginny’s eye and grinned at her before remembering his promise to Ron and hurriedly striking up a conversation with Monsieur Delacour.
“Out of the way, out of the way!” sang Mrs. Weasley, coming through the gate with what appeared to be a giant, beach-ball-sized Snitch floating in front of her. Seconds later Harry realized that it was his birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven ground. When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said,
“That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear,” she said fondly. Over her shoulder, Ron gave Harry the thumbs-up and mouthed, Good one.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
She waved, laughing, waiting for him to go zooming past her. Instead he slowed, then came to a stop right in front of her.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, as he put his foot on the asphalt. She pointed to the finish line, a scant hundred yards away. "Go."
People around them started screaming. Josh ignored them all.
He pulled off his glasses. "How you doing?"
"Josh! This isn't funny. Move." She glanced over his shoulder, knowing the other racers would appear at any second. "Just finish. You can win. Then we'll talk."
"We can talk now."
She shrieked. "No! I said I was wrong. I said I loved you. What more do you want?"
"You," he said. "For always."
"Yes, yes. You can have that. Now go. Cross the finish line. It's right there. Can't see it? Hurry."
"You'll marry me?"
The man next to her turned. "For God's sake, lady. Marry him already.
Susan Mallery (Chasing Perfect (Fool's Gold, #1))
My theory is that Dad wanted to give Mom the only anniversary gift he hadn’t given her yet.” “You would take the romantic approach.” Zander had remained standing, one shoulder casually braced against the fireplace. “I think their anniversary reminded Garner that they’re getting older, and if they were ever going to be missionaries, it needed to be now.” Nora arched an eyebrow. “You would take the death-is-imminent approach.
Becky Wade (True to You (A Bradford Sisters Romance, #1))
Is this about what happened to you and the old Sector 7?” I asked with a growl of my own.
His hands tightened their grip on my shoulders. “How did you know about that?”
“Tabby-Chan told me.”
“Freaking Meko-Chan,” Kuroi uttered, “I swear, that kid is gonna get it. What did she tell you, exactly?”
“She told me not to tell you that she told me what you told her.” I realized what I said. “Oops.”
~Luna's POV, Clash of the Clans: Shinobi 7 Companion Book #1
L. Benitez (Clash of the Clans: Shinobi 7 Companion Book #1)
My parents always insulted each other. Mom was a good student and thought school was important. Dad agreed even though he had a chip on his shoulder because he never got good grades. He learned most things from running around on the street, but in a funny way, my dad was smarter. My mom never remembered what she learned in school because she just memorized stuff for tests; it was my dad, who had bad grades, that actually remembered everything he learned.
Eddie Huang (Fresh Off the Boat)
Bet you didn't know that when you agreed to be 'betrothed' to me, huh? Husband-eviscerating apparently runs in my family."
Still no reaction, and I felt shame curl in my belly. "Of course, you also didn't know you were getting a damon bride," I added in a softer tone. Very few people knew what my dad really was. I'd always assumed Cal had found out the same night I did.
That's why I was really surprised when he raised his head and said, "I knew."
"I knew what you were then, Sophie. Your dad told me before the betrothal. And he told me about your grandmother, and what happened to your grandfather."
I shook my head. "Then,why?"
Cal took his time before answering. "For one thing, I like your dad. He's done good things for Prodigium. And it-" He broke off with a long exhale. "It felt like some kind of honor, you know? Being asked to be the head of the Council's son-in-law. Plus, your dad, he,uh,told me a lot about you."
My voice was barely above a whisper. "What did he say?"
"That you were smart, and strong. Funny. That you had trouble using your powers, but you were always trying to use them to help people." He shrugged. "I thought we'd be a good match."
The vast dining room suddenly felt very small, like it consisted only of this table and me and Cal. "Look, Sophie," he started to say.
But before he could finish, Jenna walked in. "I am so glad I still get to eat human food, because that bacon smells insane..." she said, and then froze. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her ealier bounciness draining out of her. "Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt...whatever. I c-can...leave?" She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. "And then come back,uh, later?"
But the moment was broken. Cal sat back, and I pushed my hair behind my ears. "No,it's fine," I said quickly, concentrating harder on my eggs than I had on my SAT.
Rachel Hawkins (Demonglass (Hex Hall, #2))
I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m so tired,” I whined, shoulders slumping. “And I can’t sleep because Dad and Shanti’s room is next to mine and they keep having loud sex.” At this, he laughed his very fine ass off. “Pete, it’s not funny.” “Saturday night.” He shrugged. “They’re newlyweds.” “But he’s my father,” I said. “That makes it officially eww. I’m dying of sleep deprivation and their bed is banging against the wall like they’re filming a porno. It’s not okay.
Kylie Scott (It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time)
He straightened up. “Your chief trouble,” he said, not offensively, “is that you think you’ve got a sense of humor. It confuses people, and you ought to get over it. Things strike you as funny. You thought it would be funny to have a talk with Rackham, and it may be all right this time, but someday something that you think is funny will blow your goddam head right off your shoulders.” Only after he had gone did it occur to me that that wouldn’t prove it wasn’t funny.
Rex Stout (In the Best Families (Nero Wolfe, #17))
I slammed down on my hip first, followed by my shoulder, followed by my ego. It’s not often that I crash like this, but often enough that I’ve recognized a series of reactions that occurs by instinct rather than reason, which explains why they are so ridiculously misprioritized.
1. First thought: “I’m never riding a bike again.”
2. Pop quickly onto my feet, and then scan for bystanders to assess embarrassment level.
3. Check bike for damage.
4. Check body for damage.
Tom Babin (Frostbike: The Joy, Pain and Numbness of Winter Cycling)
Do you believe in love at first sight?”
He made himself look at her face, at her wide-open eyes and earnest forehead. At her unbearably sweet mouth.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Do you believe in love before that?”
Her breath caught in her throat like a sore hiccup.
And then it was too much to keep trying not to kiss her.
She came readily into his arms. Lincoln leaned against the coffee machine and pulled her onto him completely. There it was again, that impossible to describe kiss. This is how 2011 should have ended, he thought. This is infinity.
The first time Beth pulled away, he pulled her back.
The second time, he bit her lip.
Then her neck.
Then the collar of her shirt.
“I don’t know…,” she said, sitting up in his lap, laying her check on the top of his head. “I don’t know what you meant by love before love at first sight.”
Lincoln pushed his face into her shoulder and tried to think of a good way to answer.
“Just that… I knew how I felt about you before I ever saw you,” he said, “when I still thought I might never see you…”
She held his head in her hands and titled it back, so she could see his face.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. Which made him laugh.
“Absolutely,” he said.
“No, I mean it,” Beth said. “Men fall in love with their eyes.” He closed his. “That’s practically science,” she said.
“Maybe,” Lincoln said. Her fingers felt so good in his hair. “But I couldn’t see you, so…”
“So, what did you see?”
“Just…the sort of girl who would write the sort of things that you wrote.”
Lincoln opened his eyes. Beth was studying his face. She looked skeptical-maybe about more than just the last thing he said. This was important, he realized.
“Everything,” he said, sitting straighter, keeping hold of her waist. “Everything you wrote about your work, about your boyfriend…The way you comforted Jennifer and made her laugh, through the baby and after. I pictured a girl who could be kind, and that kind of funny. I pictured a girl who was that alive…”
She looked guarded. Lincoln couldn’t tell from her eyes whether he was pushing her away or winning her over.
“A girl who never got tired of her favourite movies,” he said softly. “Who saved dresses like ticket stubs. Who could get high on the weather..
“I pictured a girl who made every moment, everything she touched, and everyone around her feel lighter and sweeter. I pictured you,” he said. “I just didn’t know what you looked like. And then, when I did know what you looked like, you looked like the girl who was all those things. You looked like the girl I loved.”
Beth’s fingers trembled in his hair, and her forehead dropped against his. A heavy, wet tear fell onto Lincoln’s lips, and he licked it. He pulled her close, as close as he could. Like he didn’t care for the moment whether she could breath. Like there were two of them and only one parachute.
“Beth,” he barely said, pressing his face against hers until their lashes brushed, pressing his hand into the small of her back. “I don’t think I can explain it. I don’t think I can make any more sense. But I’ll keep trying. If you want me to.”
She almost shook her head. “No,” she said, “no more explaining. Or apologizing. I don’t think it matters how we ended up here. I just…I want to stay…I want..
He kissed her then.
In the middle of the sentence.
Rainbow Rowell (Attachments)
Our conversation starts out pretty normal. Matthew does most of the talking, as usual. He tells me about Wesley. He tells me everything. Well, almost everything. I was lucky enough to stop him before he got into the explicit details. Wesley also helped by nudging him with his shoulder. He even covered Matthew's mouth when the conversation took a sudden turn because the word package was used. Yeah, the conversation went from sweet and romantic to soft-core porn in about two seconds.
L. Arthur (And Then I Met Him)
I wish I were with my family instead of here. I wish I could feel Kieran’s hand on my shoulder, feel Leanna’s hand in mine as we watch Mother set dinner before us. That is a family. Love. These people are all about glory, victory, and family pride, yet they know nothing of love. Nothing of family. These are false families. They are just teams. Teams that play their games of pride. The ArchGovernor has not even said hello to his children. This vile man cares more to speak with me.
“Funny,” I say.
“Funny?” he asks darkly.
I make something up. “Funny how a single word can change everything in your life.”
“It is not funny at all. Steel is power. Money is power. But of all the things in all the worlds, words are power.”
I look at him for a moment. Words are a weapon stronger than he knows. And songs are even greater. The words wake the mind. The melody wakes the heart. I come from a people of song and dance. I don’t need him to tell me the power of words. But I smile nonetheless.
Pierce Brown (Red Rising (Red Rising Saga, #1))
No, seriously, you go first. I hardly know this guy. What if he’s working with the people who took Liz?’
‘Pete?’ Shane shook his head, evidently finding the whole thought funny, though Claire felt it had been a pretty reasonable caution. ‘Never happen. But okay. I’ll protect you.’
She hit him in the shoulder. ‘I don’t need you to protect me.’
‘Then why am I going first?’
‘So you can take the first punch while I throw the second?’
‘So I’m bait? Ouch. You’ve been in Morganville way too long, girl.
Rachel Caine (Fall of Night (The Morganville Vampires, #14))
Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her 'Little Miss Tranquility', and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.
Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)
It’s funny, what the younger generation assumes we don’t know. They assume we couldn’t possibly understand the agony of heartbreak, or the pressure of buying a house. We couldn’t understand infertility or depression or the fight for equality. If we have experienced any of these things, they were milder, softer versions, played out in sepia, not experiences that could compare to theirs. You have no idea what I know, I want to tell her. Instead I open my arms and let her lie against my shoulder and cry.
Sally Hepworth (The Mother-in-Law)
Tildy warned us the Winter King could identify a person by scent,” Summer said. “Since he thinks you’re Autumn, Tildy said the wedding night should take place here, in Autumn’s bedroom, where her scent is already absorbed into everything.”
“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent,” Spring added, “and deliberately arranged the candles so he won’t be able to get a good look at your face so long as you keep to the bed.”
“Where’s Autumn?” she asked.
Khamsin turned. Her sister emerged from the connecting wardrobe room wrapped in a forest green satin robe. Her long auburn hair spilled around her shoulders in ringlets.
“Scenting up your nightclothes.” Autumn grimaced. “I know I’m clean. I bathed this morning, but there’s still something wrong about rolling on sheets and rubbing myself on clothes all day. It just seems so . . . so . . . dirty.”
Despite everything, Khamsin laughed. For some reason, Autumn’s complaint struck her as funny. “You rolled on the sheets?”
“Tildavera suggested it.
C.L. Wilson (The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1))
Let me see your arm, please, Lenzi,” Alden requested after Spook leapt onto the front passenger seat.
I held it out, and he pushed up the sleeve of my sweater. He winced. “That’s a lot of threat to fit on one tiny arm. Good thing Smith writes small.”
“If that’s a joke, it’s not funny. Tell me it doesn’t need stitches.” I groaned.
“Nope. Just antiseptic, holy water, and time to heal.”
Maddi looked over Alden’s shoulder. “Aw, that’s nothing. Remember the time he—”
Alden cut her off with a glare.
“Nice weather we’re having,” Maddi said as she strode to her truck.
Mary Lindsey (Shattered Souls (Souls, #1))
We need a test!" I jump up out of the chair and pat my body down. "Where's my wallet?"
"In your pocket," she replies dryly.
"I'll be back!" I race out of the house and drive the short distance between Dom's estate and the nearest village. After I find a drug store and buy one of each kind of pregnancy test they have, I race back to my hopefully pregnant wife.
"That was fast," she murmurs with a grin. She was still sitting in the lounge chair, sipping her coffee.
"Should you be drinking coffee?" I ask.
"Let's not get crazy," she responds. I need coffee.
"I got one of each kind," I announce and opened the bag, sending small white and blue boxes scattering.
"Uh, Caleb, we only need one."
"What if we can't figure them out?" I ask and pick one up to examine it. "All of the instructions are in Italian."
She laughs hysterically and then stands, wiping her eyes.
"It's not funny."
"Yes, it is. Pregnancy tests are pretty universal, Caleb. You pee on it and a line either appears or it doesn't." She rubs my arm sweetly and kisses my shoulder before plucking the box out of my fingers. "I'll be back."
"I'm coming with you." I begin to follow her but she turns quickly with her hands out to stop me.
"Oh no, you aren't. You are not going to watch me pee on this stick."
I scowled down at her and cross my arms over my chest. "I've helped you bathe and dress and every other damn thing when you were hurt. I can handle watching you pee."
"Absolutely not." She shakes her head but then leans in and kisses my chin. "But thank you for helping me when I was hurt."
She turns and runs for the bathroom and it feels like an eternity before she comes back out, white stick in her hand.
"Well?" I ask.
"It takes about three minutes, babe." She sits in the lounge chair and stares out over the vineyard.
Kristen Proby (Safe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #5))
I never thought I'd find you catching prey for Sandstorm. Special to you, is she?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," Fireheart protested. His fur suddenly felt hot and prickled as if ants were crawling through it. "Sandstorm is just a friend."
Graystripe let out a putt of amusement. "Oh sure, if you say so." He strolled up the slope and lowered his head to butt Fireheart affectionately on the shoulder. "You're lucky, Fireheart. She's a very impressive cat."
Fireheart opened his mouth and then closed it again. Graystripe wouldn't be convinced no matter what he said - and besides, maybe he was right.
Erin Hunter (Rising Storm (Warriors, #4))
and was very anxious about it. ‘There’s nothing to be scared about,’ he said confidently. ‘Just give it to them from the shoulder; tell them to buy their Liberty Bonds; don’t try to be funny.’ ‘Don’t worry!’ I said ironically. Very soon I heard my introduction, so I bounded on to the platform in Fairbanksian style and without a pause let fly a verbal machine-gun barrage, hardly taking a breath: ‘The Germans are at your door! We’ve got to stop them! And we will stop them if you buy Liberty Bonds! Remember, each bond you buy will save a soldier’s life – a mother’s son! – will bring this war to an early victory!
Charlie Chaplin (My Autobiography)
I never thought I'd find you catching prey for Sandstorm. Special to you, is she?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," Fireheart protested. His fur suddenly felt hot and prickled as if ants were crawling through it. "Sandstorm is just a friend."
Graystripe let out a putt of amusement. "Oh sure, if you say so." He strolled up the slope and lowered his head to butt Fireheart affectionately on the shoulder. "You're lucky, Fireheart. She's a very impressive cat."
Fireheart opened his mouth and then closed it again. Graystripe wouldn't be convinced no matter what he said - and besides, maybe he was right.
Erin Hunter (A Dangerous Path (Warriors, #5))
When Victor was making Skype calls for work, I’d silently crawl up behind him and have Rory slowly and menacingly rise up over Victor’s shoulder until the person on the call froze because they noticed a mentally unbalanced raccoon was leaning in like a furry, eavesdropping serial killer. Then Victor would realize Rory was behind him and he’d sigh that sigh he does so well and remind himself to lock his office door. If anything, though, Victor should have thanked me, because the perfect test to see if your friends and coworkers really have your back is if they’re willing to say, “Hey, there’s a raccoon creeping on you.
Jenny Lawson (Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)
We’re walking to our cars when Gabe says, “Hey, Lara Jean, did you know that if you say your name really fast, it sounds like Large? Try it! LaraJean.”
Dutifully I repeat, “LaraJean. Larjean. Largy. Actually I think it sounds more like Largy, not Large.”
Gabe nods to himself and announces, “I’m going to start calling you Large. You’re so little it’s funny. Right? Like those big guys who go by the name Tiny?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Gabe turns to Darrell. “She’s so little she could be our mascot.”
“Hey, I’m not that small,” I protest.
“How tall are you?” Darrell asks me.
“Five two,” I fib. It’s more like five one and a quarter.
Tossing his spoon in the trash, Gabe says, “You’re so little you could fit in my pocket!” All the guys laugh. Peter’s smiling in a bemused way. Then Gabe suddenly grabs me and throws me over his shoulder like I’m a kid and he’s my dad.
“Gabe! Put me down!” I shriek, kicking my legs and pounding on his chest.
He starts spinning around in a circle, and all the guys are cracking up. “I’m going to adopt you, Large! You’re going to be my pet. I’ll put you in my old hamster cage!”
I’m giggling so hard I can’t catch my breath and I’m starting to feel dizzy. “Put me down!”
“Put her down, man,” Peter says, but he’s laughing too.
Gabe runs toward somebody’s pickup truck and sets me down in the back. “Get me out of here!” I yell. Gabe’s already running away. All the guys start getting into their cars. “Bye, Large!” they call out. Peter jogs over to me and extends his hand so I can hop down.
“Your friends are crazy,” I say, jumping onto the pavement.
“They like you,” he says.
“Sure. They used to hate when I would bring Gen places. They don’t mind if you hang out with us.” Peter slings his arm around me. “Come on, Large. I’ll take you home.”
As we walk to his car, I let my hair fall in my face so he doesn’t see me smiling. It sure is nice being part of a group, feeling like I belong.
Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #1))
Where are you going this hot day, Mis’ DeJong?”
Selina sat up very straight. “To Bagdad, Mrs. Pool.”
“To — Where’s that? What for?”
“To sell my jewels, Mrs. Pool. And to see Aladdin, and Harun-al-Rashid and Ali Baba. And the Forty Thieves.”
Mrs. Pool had left her rocker and had come down the steps. The wagon creaked on past her gate. She took a step or two down the path, and called after them. “I never heard of it. Bag — How do you get there?”
Over her shoulder Selina called out from the wagon seat. “You just go until you come to a closed door. And you say ‘Open Sesame!’ and there you are.”
Bewilderment shadowed Mrs. Pool’s placid face. As the wagon lurched on down the road it was Selina who was smiling and Mrs. Pool who was serious.
The boy, round eyed, was looking up at his mother. “That’s out of Arabian Nights, what you said. Why did you say that?” Suddenly excitement tinged his voice. “That’s out of the book. Isn’t it? Isn’t it! We’re not really ——”
She was a little contrite, but not very. “Well, not really, perhaps. But ’most any place is Bagdad if you don’t know what will happen in it. And this is an adventure, isn’t it, that we’re going on? People in disguise in the Haymarket. Caliphs, and princes, and slaves, and thieves, and good fairies, and witches.”
“In the Haymarket! That Pop went to all the time! That is just dumb talk.
Edna Ferber (So Big)
Huffing in annoyance at the interruption, not only at Charlie, but at herself for being annoyed with Charlie, Ari nodded. “Jai, I command you to be able to talk again. Or whatever.” He made a face at the ‘or whatever’ part and cleared his throat. “I… great, I can talk again.” “Well.” Charlie shrugged. “Paradise could only last so long, right.” Getting up from the table, shaking a little at her unraveling, Ari cuffed Charlie across the head. “Be nice.” “Tell him to be nice!” “I can’t,” she snorted, looking back over her shoulder at them. “If I did that he’d actually have to be nice… it would be like re-writing his entire personality.” Jai grunted. “Funny.” Charlie chuckled. “I thought so.
Samantha Young (Smokeless Fire (Fire Spirits, #1))
Scott still stares at Sid, then turns to Alice and hands her the Scotch. “We’re going to go see Joanie today,” he says.
Alice grins. “And Chachi?” she asks.
Sid bursts out laughing and Scott turns back to him, then places a hand on his shoulder, which makes me fear for his life. “You be quiet, son,” Scott says. “I could kill you with this hand. This hand has been places.”
I shake my head and look at both Sid and Alex.
Scott lifts his hand off Sid’s shoulder and turns again to his wife. “No, Alice. Our Joanie. Our daughter. We’re going to give her anything she wants.” He glares at me. “Think about what she would want, Alice. We’re going to get it for her and bring it to her. Bring it right to her bed.”
“Joanie and Chachi,” Alice chants. “Joanie and Chachi!”
“Shut up, Alice!” Scott yells.
Alice looks at Scott as though he just said “Cheese.” She clasps her hands together and smiles, staying in the pose for a few seconds. He looks at her face and squints. “Sorry, old gal,” he says. “You go ahead and say whatever you want.”
“It was funny,” Sid says. “All I was doing was laughing. She has a good sense of humor. That’s all. Maybe she knows she’s being funny. I think she does.”
“I’m going to hit you,” Scott says. His arms hang alongside him, the muscles flexed, veins big like milk-shake straws. I know he’s going to hit Sid because that’s what he does. I’ve seen him hit Barry. I, too, have been hit by Scott after I beat him and his buddies at a game of poker. His hands are in fists, and I can see his knobby old-man knuckles, the many liver spots almost joining to become one big discoloration, like a burn. Then he pops his fist up toward Sid, a movement like a snake rearing its head and lunging forth. I see Sid start to bring his arm up to block his face, but then he brings it down and clutches his thigh. It’s almost as if he decided not to protect himself. The end result is a punch in his right eye, a screaming older daughter, a frightened younger daughter, a father trying to calm many people at once, and a mother-in-law cheering wildly as though we have all done something truly amazing.
Kaui Hart Hemmings (The Descendants)
Okay, drop.” He nodded in satisfaction at her clean descent. “Again, Harper.”
Biting back a curse, she did it again. And again. And again. And a-fucking-gain.
“Better. Much better. Now, do it once more. This time, I’m going to ask you to go higher and hold it a lot longer.” When she slumped, Knox arched a brow. “Do you want to try flying or not? We’ll do it today, but only if you master this move.”
Harper rolled back her shoulders. “I’ll do it,” she bit out. She wanted to punch him square in the face for grinning at her. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Not out loud.”
“You’re just cute when you’re agitated.” She was back to being a hissing, spitting kitten that amused the hell out of Knox and his demon.
Suzanne Wright (Blaze (Dark in You, #2))
But embracing Sam was different, somehow. Like she wanted to curl into his warmth, like for one moment, she didn’t have to worry about anything or anybody. “Sam,” she murmured into his chest. “Hmm?” She peeled away from him, stepping out of his arms. “If you ever tell anyone about me embracing you … I’ll gut you.” Sam gaped at her, then tipped his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed, until dust lodged in his throat and he launched into a coughing fit. She let him suffer through it, not finding it very funny at all. When he could breathe again, Sam cleared his throat. “Come on, Sardothien,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “If you’re done liberating slaves and destroying pirate cities, then let’s go home.” Celaena glanced at him sidelong and grinned.
Sarah J. Maas (The Assassin's Blade (Throne of Glass, #0.1-0.5))
Mom?” Then again, louder. “Mom?”
She turned around so quickly, she knocked the pan off the stove and nearly dropped the gray paper into the open flame there. I saw her reach back and slap her hand against the knobs, twisting a dial until the smell of gas disappeared.
“I don’t feel good. Can I stay home today?”
No response, not even a blink. Her jaw was working, grinding, but it took me walking over to the table and sitting down for her to find her voice. “How—how did you get in here?”
“I have a bad headache and my stomach hurts,” I told her, putting my elbows up on the table. I knew she hated when I whined, but I didn’t think she hated it enough to come over and grab me by the arm again.
“I asked you how you got in here, young lady. What’s your name?” Her voice sounded strange. “Where do you live?”
Her grip on my skin only tightened the longer I waited to answer. It had to have been a joke, right? Was she sick, too? Sometimes cold medicine did funny things to her.
Funny things, though. Not scary things.
“Can you tell me your name?” she repeated.
“Ouch!” I yelped, trying to pull my arm away. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She yanked me up from the table, forcing me onto my feet. “Where are your parents? How did you get in this house?”
Something tightened in my chest to the point of snapping.
“Mom, Mommy, why—”
“Stop it,” she hissed, “stop calling me that!”
“What are you—?” I think I must have tried to say something else, but she dragged me over to the door that led out into the garage. My feet slid against the wood, skin burning. “Wh-what’s wrong with you?” I cried. I tried twisting out of her grasp, but she wouldn’t even look at me. Not until we were at the door to the garage and she pushed my back up against it.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I know you’re confused, but I promise that I’m not your mother. I don’t know how you got into this house, and, frankly, I’m not sure I want to know—”
“I live here!” I told her. “I live here! I’m Ruby!”
When she looked at me again, I saw none of the things that made Mom my mother. The lines that formed around her eyes when she smiled were smoothed out, and her jaw was clenched around whatever she wanted to say next. When she looked at me, she didn’t see me. I wasn’t invisible, but I wasn’t Ruby.
“Mom.” I started to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be bad. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, I promise I’ll be good—I’ll go to school today and won’t be sick, and I’ll pick up my room. I’m sorry. Please remember. Please!”
She put one hand on my shoulder and the other on the door handle. “My husband is a police officer. He’ll be able to help you get home. Wait in here—and don’t touch anything.”
The door opened and I was pushed into a wall of freezing January air. I stumbled down onto the dirty, oil-stained concrete, just managing to catch myself before I slammed into the side of her car. I heard the door shut behind me, and the lock click into place; heard her call Dad’s name as clearly as I heard the birds in the bushes outside the dark garage.
She hadn’t even turned on the light for me.
I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, ignoring the bite of the frosty air on my bare skin. I launched myself in the direction of the door, fumbling around until I found it. I tried shaking the handle, jiggling it, still thinking, hoping, praying that this was some big birthday surprise, and that by the time I got back inside, there would be a plate of pancakes at the table and Dad would bring in the presents, and we could—we could—we could pretend like the night before had never happened, even with the evidence in the next room over.
The door was locked.
“I’m sorry!” I was screaming. Pounding my fists against it. “Mommy, I’m sorry! Please!”
Dad appeared a moment later, his stocky shape outlined by the light from inside of the house. I saw Mom’s bright-red face over his shoulder; he turned to wave her off and then reached over to flip on the overhead lights.
Alexandra Bracken (The Darkest Minds (The Darkest Minds, #1))
In the sudden silence, Andrew grabbed my hand and shook it. “I’ll miss you, Drew. You’ve been a regular gent.”
It was hard not to cry, but I was determined to show Andrew I could be as tough as he was. “I’ll miss you too,” I admitted. “And Hannah and Theo and Mama and Papa. I never had a brother or a sister or a dog of my own before.”
“But you won’t miss Edward. He’ll be there waiting for you.” Andrew meant it as a joke, but neither of us laughed.
Suddenly serious, I gripped his shoulders tightly and stared into his eyes. “How will I know what happens to you?”
“Look in the graveyard,” Andrew said in a melancholy voice. “If you don’t see my tombstone, you’ll know I didn’t die.”
He laughed to show me he was joking again, but death was even less funny than the old man in the wheelchair.
Mary Downing Hahn (Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story)
Nous avons ete amies," I added. "There,that's two in French, and using past perfect, no less."
I couldn't see his expression clearly. It flet like a long time before he said anything. "Ella..." He paused, then, "What happened? Between you and Anna?"
"Other than the fact that I'm a fashion-impaired poor kid who draws doorknobs? Haven't a clue."
Alex leaned forward. Now I could see his face. He looked annoyed. "Why do you do that? Diminish yourself?"
I could feel my cheeks flaming, feel my shoulders curving inward. "I don't-"
"Right.Don't.Just don't, with me, anyway. I like you better feisty."
I couldn't help it; that made me smile. "Did you really just say 'feisty'?"
"I did.It's a good word."
"It's am old word, favored by granddads and pirates."
"Yar," Alex sighed.
"Face it.You're just an old-fashioned guy."
"Three," I said, and changed my mind midthought. "I haven't been able to decide if Willing is the second best thing that ever happened to me, or the second worst."
"What are the firsts?"
"Nope.Uh-uh.It is not for you to ask, Alexander Bainbridge, but to reveal."
He drained his glass and rolled it back and forth between his hands. "I had all these funny admissions planned, but you've screwed up my plans. Hey. Don't go all wounded-wide-eyed on me. It's cute, that Bambi thing you have going, but beside the point.Now I have to rethink."
"Quiet.One: My name isn't Alexander." He sat up straight and gave his chest a resounding thump. "Menya zavut Alexei Pavlovich Dillwyn Bainbridge. Not Alexander. I don't think anyone outside my family knows that.
Melissa Jensen (The Fine Art of Truth or Dare)
What you do when you git mad? she ast.
I think. I can't even remember the last time I felt mad, I say. I used to git mad at my mammy cause she put a lot of work on me. Then I see how sick she is. Couldn't stay mad at her. Couldn't be mad at my daddy cause he my daddy. Bible say, Honor father and mother no matter what. Then after awhile every time I got mad, or start to feel mad, I got sick. Felt like throwing up. Terrible feeling. Then I start to feel nothing at all.
Sofia frown. Nothing at all?
Well, sometime Mr. —— git on me pretty hard. I have to talk to Old Maker. But he my husband. I shrug my shoulders. This life soon be over, I say. Heaven last all ways.
You ought to bash Mr. —— head open, she say. Think about heaven later.
Not much funny to me. That funny. I laugh. She laugh. Then us both laugh . . .
Alice Walker (The Color Purple)
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see who it was. My jaw dropped! Ralph and I exchanged looks of dismay and resignation. Standing behind us were our three top PJ bosses. Somehow they had tracked us down. We were caught red-handed and there was no escape. The air went out of my emotional sails, and I felt deflated. I didn’t even begin to try to talk my way out of this. I said, “OK. You got us. What can I say?” The PJ bosses looked at me funny and started to laugh. Then a long line of PJs streamed into the bar. The bosses were just the vanguard of a boisterous posse of PJs. Cabin fever had become unbearable and apparently almost every single PJ had decided to sneak off base! Everyone was loud, animated, and ready to do some serious drinking. Thus began a spontaneous and epic night of partying. Somehow, everyone made it back onto base afterwards without incident.
William F. Sine (Guardian Angel: Life and Death Adventures with Pararescue, the World's Most Powerful Commando Rescue Force)
We should probably set some ground rules." I continued.
He slumped back against the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to make rules for tutoring?"
I nodded. "And if you don't follow them, I'll quit."
He studied me for long moments. It made me squirm in my seat. Romeo had a very intense and level stare. "Okay, Rimmel," he drawled. "Let's hear these rules."
I swallowed. Every time he said my name, the spit in my mouth seemed to thicken. "Okay." I agreed. My shoulders straightened and I held up my hand to count the rules as I went. "One: do not be late. It's rude. If you're late again, I won't wait."
His lips twitched, which brought me to the next rule. "Two: Don't bother trying to charm me into doing your work for you. I won't."
He pressed a hand to his chest like he was offended. "You think so low of me." He gasped.
I rolled my eyes. "Three: No girls during tutoring. No disappearing."
"But you're a girl," he said, sitting forward swiftly and tucking a bunch of hair behind my ear. The back of my neck broke out in goose bumps and they scattered down my spine, and my toes curled in the Converse I was wearing.
"Rule four," I said, ignoring the funny way he made me feel. "No charm at all."
"I can't help it, Rimmie." His intensely azure eyes roamed over my face like he was looking at me for the first time. "It's so easy to make you blush."
I hit away his hand. "Rule five: Do not call me Rimmie." Ugh, he was irritating!
He chuckled and sat back. "Fine. Now, can we get to work?" he asked, pointing at his paper.
"No," I snapped. "Tutoring is over for today."
"But what about this assignment?" he whined.
"Here's a thought," I said as I snatched my bag and stood. "Sit here and do it." I started to stalk away, nearly tripping over my half-untied shoelace.
He laughed beneath his breath, and I thought about kicking him.
- Rimmel & Romeo
Cambria Hebert (#Nerd (Hashtag, #1))
I’d like you to come to Kauai with me,” I say. “And Scottie. I think it would be good to get her away from the hospital for a day. We can leave in the morning, find him, and be home tomorrow night. If it takes us a day longer, that’s fine, but we won’t stay more than two nights. That’s our deadline. If we don’t find him, then at least we know we tried.”
“And this will make you feel better somehow?”
“It’s for her,” I say. “Not for him or me.”
“What if he’s a wreck? What if he loses his shit?”
“Then I’ll take care of him.” I imagine Brian Speer wailing on my shoulder. I imagine him and my daughters by Joanie’s bed, her lover and his loud sobs shaming us. “Just so you know, I am angry. I’m not this pure and noble guy. I want to do this for her, but I also want to see who he is. I want to ask him a few things.”
“Just call him. Tell his office it’s an emergency. They’ll have him call you.”
“I want to tell him in person. I haven’t told anyone over the phone, and I don’t want to start now.”
“You told Troy.”
“Troy doesn’t count. I just need to do this. On the phone he can escape. If I see him in person, he’ll have nowhere to go.”
We both look away when our eyes meet. She hasn’t crossed the border into my room. She never does during her nighttime doorway chats.
“Were you guys having trouble?” Alex asks. “Is that why she cheated?”
“I didn’t think we were having trouble,” I say. “I mean, it was the same as always.”
This was the problem, that our marriage was the same as always. Joanie needed bumps. She needed rough terrain. It’s funny that I can get lost in thoughts about her, but when she was right in front of me, I didn’t think much about her at all.
“I wasn’t the best husband,” I say.
Alex looks out the window to avoid my confession. “If we go on this trip, what will we tell Scottie?”
“She’ll think we’re going on a trip of some sort. I want to get her away from here.
Kaui Hart Hemmings (The Descendants)
She leaned forward, eager to see what it was. She was wearing her charm bracelet that day, as she always did, so she was eager to add the new one. But what was it?
“That’s funny,” Luca said. “It looked a lot bigger in the store.” He dropped the charm into her hand. It was a teeny, tiny ring. An engagement ring.
“Luca,” she said.
The older lady giggled nervously.
“Hang on,” Luca said. “Don’t say anything yet.” He reached into his pocket again, and that time he pulled out a full-sized ring. One that would fit on her finger.
It was the second most beautiful thing Tina Gardenia had ever seen.
The most beautiful thing she’d ever seen was Luca’s blue eyes, glistening as he looked up at her and asked, “Will you marry me?”
The word came out of her mouth without even registering in her brain. “Yes.”
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his big shoulders.
The other patients, and some nurses who’d approached quietly, clapped and cheered.
Daniel.” Luce gripped his shoulder. “What about the library you took me to? Remember?” She closed her eyes. She wasn’t thinking so much as feeling her way through a memory buried shallowly in her brain. “We came to Vienna for the weekend…I don’t remember when, but we went to see Mozart conduct The Magic Flute…at the Theater an der Wien? You wanted to see this friend of yours who worked at some old library, his name was-“
She broke off, because when she opened her eyes, the others were staring at her, incredulous. No one, least of all Luce, had expected her to be the one to know where they would find the desideratum.
Daniel recovered first. He flashed her a funny smile Luce knew was full of pride. But Arriane, Roland, and Annabelle continued to gape at her as if they’d suddenly learned she spoke Chinese. Which, come to think of it, she did.
Arriane wiggled a finger around inside her ear. “Do I need to ease up on the psychedelics, did LP just recall one of her past lives unprompted at the most crucial juncture ever?”
“You’re a genius,” Daniel said, leaning forward and kissing her deeply.
Luce blushed and leaned in to extend the kiss a little longer, but then heard a cough.
“Seriously, you two,” Annabelle said. “There will be time enough for snogs if we pull this off.”
“I’d say ‘get a room’ but I’m afraid we’d never see you again,” Arriane added, which caused them all to laugh.
When Luce opened her eyes, Daniel had spread his wings wide. The tips brushed away broken bits of plaster and blocked the Scale angels from view. Slung over his shoulder was the black leather satchel with the halo.
The Outcasts gathered the scattered starshots back into their silver sheaths. “Wingspeed, Daniel Grigori.”
“To you as well.” Daniel nodded at Phil. He spun Luce around so her back was pressed to his chest and his arms fit snugly around her waist. They clasped hands over her heart.
“The Foundation Library,” Daniel said to the other angels. “Follow me, I know exactly where it is.
Lauren Kate (Rapture (Fallen, #4))
Grom greets him with a smile full of nausea. "I'm not ready for this, little brother," he confesses.
"Sure you are," Galen laughs, slapping his brother's back.
Grom shakes his head. "It feels like...like I'm betraying her. Nalia."
Galen stiffens. Oh. He doesn't feel qualified to talk Grom out of this kind of mood. "I'm sure she would understand," he offers.
Grom studies him thoughtfully. "I'd like to think she would. But you didn't know Nalia. She had an amazing temper."
He chuckles. "I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her ready to bludgeon me with something for mating with someone else."
Galen frowns, unsure of what to say.
Grom chuckles. "I'm joking, of course." Then he shrugs. "Well, half joking, anyway. I swear I've been sensing her lately, Galen. It feels so real. It takes all I've got not to follow the pulse. Do you think I'm losing my mind?"
Galen shakes his head out of obligation. Secretly though, he thinks he might be. "I'm sure you're just feeling guilty. Er...not that you have a reason to feel guilty. Uh, it's just natural that you feel that way before your mating ceremony. Nerves and all." Galen runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing? Being mature?" Grom smirks.
"Maybe you should spend some more time on land, then come back and talk to me. Being on land ages you, you know. Might do you some good."
Galen snorts. Now you tell me. "I heard."
Out of nowhere, Grom grabs Galen's face and wrestles him into a hold. Galen hates it when he does this. "Let me see that cute little face of yours, minnow. Yep, just like I thought. Your eyes are turning blue. How much time have you been spending on land? Please tell me you're not head over fin for a human?" Then he laughs and releases him just as suddenly.
Galen stares at him. "What do you mean?"
"I was just teasing, minnow. Giving you a hard time."
"I know but...why did you say my eyes are turning blue? What does that have to go with the humans?"
Grom waves a dismissive hand at him. "Forget it. I think you might be more uptight than me right now. I said I was just kidding.
Anna Banks (Of Poseidon (The Syrena Legacy, #1))
It would be really wonderful if all this could be a dream,” I said.
“Come now, you’ll get there. Focus on one aura at a time; that helps. What do you see when you look at me?”
I took a breath. “A kind of idiosyncratic bluish with a happy patch of crimson right around your middle. You’re a bit dark—but also very light in funny little ways.” I blinked. “There are also notes of a sort of rosy color hanging all around both you and Jenny. No, not rosy, exactly. How would you describe it—a buoyant sort of flush?”
“Buoyant is not a color,” said Jackaby. “You sound ridiculous. But an excellent start! The sight will take time to understand. I’m here to help.”
“I’m here for you, too, Abigail,” Jenny assured me, putting a hand on Jackaby’s shoulder as she glided forward to join us. “We can practice together and take it slow. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done to help me figure out my own abilities.”
I nodded. “It’s nice to see that you’re not having any more trouble in that area,” I said. Jenny’s hand was still on Jackaby’s shoulder. The flush around their auras increased when I mentioned it.
“I’m not even sure how it happened,” Jenny said. “I just needed it to happen, and it did.”
“Not surprised about it at all,” said Jackaby.
“Not surprised?” Jenny said. “Yesterday I couldn’t so much as brush a hair out of your eyes, but today I reached inside your chest and held your heart in my hands—and you’re not surprised?”
“Not at all. My heart was always yours,” said Jackaby.
Jenny leaned back and looked at him, startled. “That is about the sweetest thing I think you’ve ever said.”
“Was it good?” He gave her a goofy grin. “I was trying to work out how to phrase it the whole ride over.”
“Not good at all, no,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a smile off her face. “It was sappy and maudlin and positively terrible. Sweet, though. Excellent effort.”
“You’re just jealous because we’re both technically undead now, and I’m clearly so much better at it.”
“Jealous? I’m not jealous. For the first time since I’ve known you, I have the power to shut you up.” She leaned in and kissed him right on the lips.
William Ritter (The Dire King (Jackaby, #4))
Haven’t I tired you out yet, darling?” Ian whispered several hours later.
“Yes,” she said with an exhausted laugh, her cheek nestled against his shoulder, her hand drifting over his chest in a sleepy caress. “But I’m too happy to sleep for a while yet.”
So was Ian, but he felt compelled to at least suggest that she try. “You’ll regret it in the morning when we have to appear for breakfast,” he said with a grin, cuddling her closer to his side.
To his surprise, the remark made her smooth forehead furrow in a frown. She tipped her face up to his, opened her mouth as if to ask him a question, then she changed her mind and hastily looked away.
“What is it?” he asked, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting her face up to his.
“Tomorrow morning,” she said with a funny, bemused expression on her face. “When we go downstairs…will everyone know what we have done tonight?”
She expected him to try to evade the question.
“Yes,” he said.
She nodded, accepting that, and turned into his arms. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said with a sigh of contentment and gratitude.
“I’ll always tell you the truth,” he promised quietly, and she believed him.
It occurred to Elizabeth that she could ask him now, when he’d given that promise, if he’d had anything to do with Robert’s disappearance. And as quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she pushed it angrily away. She would not defame their marriage bed by voicing ugly, unfounded suspicions carried to her by a man who obviously had a grudge against all Scots.
This morning, she had made a conscious decision to trust him and marry him; now, she was bound by her vows to honor him, and she had absolutely no intention of going back on her own decision or on the vow she made to him in church.
“While we’re on the subject of truth, I have a confession to make.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs, and she went rigid. “What is it?” she asked tautly.
“The chamber next door is meant to be used as your dressing room and withdrawing room. I do not approve of the English custom of husband and wife sleeping in separate beds.” She looked so pleased that Ian grinned. “I’m happy to see,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead, “we agree on that.
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
The princess found herself being gently prodded and pushed and combed and magicked, and her hair felt weird. When she was spun around to face the mirror again, she was in a yellow dress, waves of sunshine spilling down from her bodice to her toes. Her shoulders were bare, which was a little strange, but they were pale and perfect and delicate. 'Swanlike,' she could hear the minstrel saying. Her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a yellow ribbon tying it off.
The fairies gasped.
"You are 'sooooo' beautiful!"
Even 'more' beautiful!"
"Can it be possible?"
"Look at 'this'," a fairy commanded. With a serious look and a wave of her wand, she transformed the princess again. This time her hair was piled high on her head in an elegant chignon, a simple ribbon holding it back. A light blue dress puffed out around her softly, like a cloud. The finest gloves she had ever worn covered her bare arms up to her shoulders. Funny little tinkling shoes felt chilly on her feet.
She put her hands on the skirt and twisted this way and that; what a dress to dance in! She would look like a fairy herself.
Or a bride.
Liz Braswell (Once Upon a Dream)
Hey," she whispered to Malachi. "When are Irin considered adults?"
He was following what looked to be a quiet argument between Sari and Mala. "Full adults? Around sixty to seventy-five years. When we're finished with our training. Why?"
She flushed. Wow.
"So, you're quite the cradle robber, aren't you?"
Malachi turned to her abruptly. "What? No, I'm not."
"I'm not even thirty. That's like... a teenager to you guys."
She could see the flush crawl up his neck, even behind the beard. "You're human. You mature differently."
"But I'm not really human."
His shoulders were stiff and his posture screamed his discomfort. It was really a shame Ava found teasing him to be so amusing.
"I mean, what would your mom say if she found out you were mated-and I mean well and thoroughly mated- to what she would basically consider a kid?"
He wiped a hand over his forehead. "Heaven above, please stop talking."
"So are we going to stop fooling around now?"
He groaned. "Ava."
"I'm just yanking your chain."
"You're going to have to speak up, because the mental lecture my mother's memory is giving me right now is rather loud.
A few minutes later, a tall, bronze-skinned woman with masses of dark hair, eyes like pale emeralds, and more curves than the Nürburgring racetrack appeared next to my table. My SEAL stood and started to intervene, but I held up a lazy hand, gave a droopy-eyed smile, slurred my words, and waved him off. The stripper sat on my lap with nothing between her and the Lord but a smile and three pieces of strategically placed duct tape. She slipped a glittering arm around my shoulders—she apparently was wearing lotion with metal flakes in it and it felt rough. Then she leaned her décolletage my way, placing her head next to my ear. “You know what you’re supposed to do, right?” she whispered, smiling and acting like she had just said something terribly wrong. She was a good actress for Elizabeth City.
Laughing, smiling, and acting wasted, I slurred as loudly and obnoxiously as I could, “Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing, woman!” With that, I reached up and placed my hand on her massive breast, just as I’d been instructed to do—all for the good of my country.
The slap that followed could[…]”
Excerpt From: Jamie Smith. “Gray Work
He needs to be talked to."
"This is funny, but I know how to talk, too."
Brian swore under his breath. "He prefers singing."
"I said,he prefers singing."
"Oh." Keeley tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Any particular tune? Wait, let me guess. Finnegan's Wake?" Brian''s steely-eyed stare had her laughing until she had to lean weakly against the gelding.The horse responded by twisting his head and trying to sniff her pockets for apples.
"It's a quick tune," Brian said coolly, "and he likes hearing his name."
"I know the chorus." Gamely Keeley struggled to swallow another giggle. "But I'm not sure I know all the words.There are several verses as I recall."
"Do the best you can," he muttered and strode off.His lips twitched as he heard her launch into the song about the Dubliner who had a tippling way.
When he reached Betty's box, he shook his head. "I should've known. If there's not a Grant one place, there's a Grant in another until you're tripping over them."
Travis gave Betty a last pat on the shoulder. "Is that Keeley I hear singing?"
"She's being sarcastic, but as long as the job's done. She's dug in her heels about grooming Finnegan."
"She comes by it naturally.The hard head as well as the skill."
"Never had so many owners breathing down my neck.We don't need them, do we, darling?" Brian laid his hands on Beetty's cheek, and she shook her head, then nibbled his hair.
"Damn horse has a crush on you."
"She may be your lady, sir, but she's my own true love.Aren't you beautiful, my heart?" He stroked, sliding into the Gaelic that had Betty's ears pricked and her body shifting restlessly.
"She likes being excited before a race," Brian murmured. "What do you call it-pumped up like your American football players.Which is a sport that eludes me altogether as they're gathered into circles discussing things most of the time instead of getting on with it."
"I heard you won the pool on last Monday nights game," Travis commented.
"Betting's the only thing about your football I do understand." Brian gathered her reins. "I'll walk her around a bit before we take her down. She likes to parade.You and your missus will want to stay close to the winner's circle."
Travis grinned at him. "We'll be watching from the rail."
"Let's go show off." Brian led Betty out.
Nora Roberts (Irish Rebel (Irish Hearts, #3))
I pull his hand up to my chest. "It's okay. Some of my best friends are in the mob. It must be really tough with your husband in prison."
"You THINK?" He pulls away, as if I've been insensitive, picks up a stone and throws it at a crow walking around in the grass.
As the crow screeches bloody murder and takes flight, escaping unscathed, Joshua darts in front of me, hits Tiger in the nuts and calls him a bitch.
Pulling Joshua back to my right, I glare down at him asking- WHAT did you CALL HIM?
"He's not a bitch."
"YES HE IS."
Tiger, coming to the rescue, kneels and places his hand on Joshua's shoulder. "Sorry little buddy. I didn't mean to make you go all APE shit. You like those little flying RATS."
Joshua shakes his finger at him. "THEY'RE NOT RATS... YOU BITCH."
As I start to give Joshua a lecture, Tiger stands up and stops me. "It's okay," he said. "Believe it or not- he's not the first to call me a bitch." Taking Joshua's free hand, he walks on his other side, while Joshua glares up at him with distrust. "Bitch isn't a word that you should be using. Not at your AGE."
"That's right," I agreed. "When you get older, you can call your girlfriend a bitch, but only in bed."
Giorge Leedy (Uninhibited From Lust To Love)
Okay,like I could write about being new to this school and feeling really self-conscious already, you know, 'cause I'm new and haven't really gotten my growth spurt yet...in any capacity."
This gets a few chuckles and I plow forward.
"Then,at this meeting, maybe some cool, hot jock is sitting next to me and asks me to stand up, only to have the entire classroom staring at me as I say, 'But I am standing up!' Except,you know, funnier."
A few kids giggle and the big guy next to me grunts, "Pretty funny."
I smile over at my new comrade and smack his massive shoulder like we're old friends.I'm going to have to get his name.
"I mean, obviously it'd be better than that. But I just think it'd be good comif relief," I add, doing what my dad calls laying it on thick. "And we could put it near the pet obits to balance out all the high-school-is-depressing-enough vibes!"
Now the laughs are easy and everyone's smiling, and I feel myself loosen up a bit. Just like Mom and Dad with cheerleading, these folks are cracking under my spell, and I start really amping up the drama.
"And I know I couldn't use 'Traumarama' as a title since Seventeen already does, but I'm thinking 'Trauma and Drama-Terrible Tales of Teenagedom,' or something like that, with some real-life gossip mixed in.
Alecia Whitaker (The Queen of Kentucky)
Bree nodded eagerly, anxious to see her friend again. “Oooh. I like that idea. Yeah. Let’s stay, Alessandro and then in the morning, we can have wine with our toast! Oh hey, that’s funny, huh. Wine, toast, get it?” Bree giggled. Oh wow. Her head was feeling really, really fuzzy. “Okay, let’s go to bed,” Alessandro said rising from the couch after he and Kevin finished discussing the plans for the vineyard in the coming year as well as the progress it had made thus far. Bree gasped. “Alessandro! We can’t have sex in someone else’s house!” Alessandro blushed and placed a hand on her back, leading her towards the stairs after wishing Hadley a good night. “It’s my house, darling,” he reminded her. “Oh well, that’s okay then, but you can’t be loud though cause that would still be rude,” Bree said, reaching down and squeezing Alessandro’s ass. Gosh, her hubby had a really nice tight ass. “Here we are,” he said, leading her into one of the mansion’s many bedrooms. “Alessandro, I hass…have…a little confestion to make,” Bree said leaning her head on his shoulder. “You do?” he asked placing her on the bed and bending down to remove her shoes. Bree lay back and stared up at the spinning ceiling. “Mmhm. I think…I’m ina...Little drunk bit.” “Really?” Alessandro asked with feigned surprise.
E. Jamie (The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2))
Mr. Townsend quirks a brow at the other man, and when our boss walks away he sticks his tongue out to his back. I push my hair over my shoulder and look this man over a bit closer. His dark hair reaches his shoulders and falls in soft waves around his face. He has a strong jaw lined with stubble and high cheekbones under his impossibly dark eyes. His perfect teeth are framed beautifully with full lips and a dark goatee, which only highlight the voluptuous color of his mouth.
He’s wearing a dark blue button up shirt that fits loosely around his arms and chest, but the fitted dark jeans show off the chiseled lines of his thighs. He pushes his chair back slightly and stands, extending his large hand toward me. “I’m Reid. Reid Townsend.”
He’s tall, about 6’0”, with a smile right out of a toothpaste commercial, and when I take his hand (surely with a stupid look on my face) it’s rough from heavy use. “Nice to meet you. I’m Danielle Delaney,” I reply. “You can call me Dani… Or anything you’d like except DD, um, in high school some people called me Double D’s because of that name and because I have big boobs—” I cut off abruptly with a slightly choked sound, feeling the blood rush over my chest, face and ears. I’ve never blurted something like that before in my life, and I especially have never blurted anything because I’m standing in front of a beautiful guy—I’m the player, not the played.
Allana Kephart (Best Thing I Never Had (Anthology))
Neville’s mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. She no longer had the plump, happy-looking face Harry had seen in Moody’s old photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix. Her face was thin and worn now, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand. “Again?” said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. “Very well, Alice dear, very well — Neville, take it, whatever it is . . .” But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Drooble’s Blowing Gum wrapper. “Very nice, dear,” said Neville’s grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly, “Thanks Mum.” His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did not think he’d ever found anything less funny in his life. “Well, we’d better get back,” sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. “Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now . . .” But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket. The door closed behind them.
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
Joanne Sanders, a broad woman in her forties, posed with friends, family, and Snowball in photographs displayed on the mantel of the fake fireplace. She had shoulder-length brown hair and bangs teased high above her brow. I could picture her behind ten inches of bulletproof glass sneering at me with gloss-encased lips for filling out my deposit slip incorrectly. I fed Snowball half a cup of kibble and a spoonful of wet food as my envelope of information directed. She ate it quickly while making funny little squeaking noises. Once she had licked her bowl to a bright sheen, we headed out for my first walk as a dog-walker. I steered us off of East End Avenue and onto the esplanade that runs along the river. The water reflected the sun in bright silver glints. I smelled oil and brine. We reached Carl Schurz Park and turned into the dog run for small dogs. The gate leading into the run reached only to my knees, as did the rest of the fence designed to keep small dogs in and big ones out. A sign on the gate read, "Dogs over 25 pounds not permitted." Ten dogs under 25 pounds, and one who was probably a little over, played together in the pen. Their owners, in groups of three or four, sat on worn wooden benches and talked about dogs. Snowball ran to join a poodle growling at a puppy. They intimidated it behind its owner's calves. Then the poodle, a miniature gray curly thing with long ears, mounted Snowball. I turned to the river and watched a giant barge inch by.
Emily Kimelman (Unleashed (Sydney Rye, #1))
The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, 'It was the best butter, you know.' Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. 'What a funny watch!' she remarked. 'It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!' 'Why should it?' muttered the Hatter. 'Does your watch tell you what year it is?' 'Of course not,' Alice replied very readily: 'but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time together.' 'Which is just the case with mine,' said the Hatter. Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. 'I don't quite understand you,' she said, as politely as she could. 'The Dormouse is asleep again,' said the Hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose. The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its eyes, 'Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.' 'Have you guessed the riddle yet?' the Hatter said, turning to Alice again. 'No, I give it up,' Alice replied: 'what's the answer?' 'I haven't the slightest idea,' said the Hatter. 'Nor I,' said the March Hare. Alice sighed wearily. 'I think you might do something better with the time,' she said, 'than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.' 'If you knew Time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, 'you wouldn't talk about wasting it.
Lewis Carroll (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, #1))
Is Joanna Gaines here? We have a warrant here for her arrest,” the officer said.
It was the tickets. I knew it. And I panicked. I picked up my son and I hid in the closet. I literally didn’t know what to do. I’d never even had a speeding ticket, and all of a sudden I’m thinking, I’m about to go to prison, and my child won’t be able to eat. What is this kid gonna do?
I heard Chip say, “She’s not here.”
Thankfully, Drake didn’t make a peep, and the officer believed him. He said, “Well, just let her know we’re looking for her,” and they left.
Jo’s the most conservative girl in the world. She had never even been late for school. I mean, this girl was straitlaced. So now we realize there’s a citywide warrant out for her arrest, and we’re like, “Oh, crap.” In her defense, Jo had wanted to pay those tickets off all along, and I was the one saying, “No way. I’m not paying these tickets.” So we decided to try to make it right. We called the judge, and the court clerk told us, “Okay, you have an appointment at three in the afternoon to discuss the tickets. See you then.” We wanted to ask the judge if he could remove a few of them for us. “The fines for our dogs “running at large” on our front porch just seemed a bit excessive.
We arrived at the courthouse, and Chip was carrying Drake in his car seat. I couldn’t carry it because I was still recovering from Drake’s delivery. We got inside and spoke to a clerk. They looked at the circumstances and decided to switch all the tickets into Chip’s name.
Those dogs were basically mine, and it didn’t make sense to have the tickets in her name. But as soon as they did that, this police officer walked over and said, “Hey, do you mind emptying out all of your pockets?”
I got up and cooperated. “Absolutely. Yep,” I said. I figured it was just procedure before we went in to see the judge.
Then he said, “Yeah, you mind taking off your belt?”
I thought, That’s a little weird.
Then he said, “Do you mind turning around and putting your hands behind your back?”
They weren’t going to let us talk to the judge at all. The whole thing was just a sting to get us to come down there and be arrested. They arrested Chip on the spot. And I’m sitting there saying, “I can’t carry this baby in his car seat. What am I supposed to do?”
I started bawling. “You can’t take him!” I cried. But they did. They took him right outside and put him in the back of a police car.
Now I feel like the biggest loser in the world. I’m in the back of a police car as my crying wife comes out holding our week-old baby.
I’m walking out, limping, and waving to him as they drive away.
And I can’t even wave because my hands are cuffed behind my back. So here I am awkwardly trying to make a waving motion with my shoulder and squinching my face just to try to make Jo feel better.
It was just the most comical thing, honestly. A total joke. To take a man to jail because his dogs liked to walk around a neighborhood, half of which he owns? But it sure wasn’t funny at the time. I was flooded with hormones and just could not stop crying. They told me they were taking my husband to the county jail.
Luckily we had a buddy who was an attorney, so I called him. I was clueless. “I’ve never dated a guy that’s been in trouble, and now I’ve got a husband that’s in jail.
Joanna Gaines (The Magnolia Story)
We worship The Block.” The player stared at me for a moment, screwing up his face as he tried to comprehend what I’d said. Then he started to chuckle. “You worship blocks? Like what everything is made out of?” I shook my head. “No, we worship The Block. It is a mysterious block that exists somewhere in the sky. It is said that The Block knows all and sees all. It is said that if it chose to, it could write everyone’s story in the Book of Life. Everyone from Herobrine and Notch down to the smallest endermite.” The player nodded his head. “The Block sounds pretty powerful. Have you ever seen him or her or it or whatever it is?” I shook my head. “The Block only reveals itself in dreams and trance-induced stupors.” “So, you’ve never seen it then?” “I have not. But I work every day to get to the point where I will be blessed enough to see The Block.” Tanisto nodded and pursed his lips. “Sounds kinda cool, I guess. What do you call your religion?” I leaned forward again. “We call ourselves … Blockheads.” The player nodded. He was getting a strange look on his face, like he was stifling a laugh. “It was nice talking to you. I think I’ll go find a villager to trade with. I require more ... earthly transactions.” I leaned back. “Suit yourself. But, you will never know the grand truth of the universe if you do not try to communicate with The Block.” The player nodded, but said no more before scurrying away. After the player was out of earshot, Dark Knight chuckled. “Blockheads. You just made all that up? You’re funny. I never realized.” I looked over my shoulder and hissed at him. “You have taken a vow of silence. Now, you have broken it, and you will never know the mysteries of The Block.
Dr. Block (The Ballad of Winston the Wandering Trader: Book 7 (The Ballad of Winston #7))
BEST FRIENDS SHOULD BE TOGETHER
We’ll get a pair of those half-heart necklaces so every ask n’ point reminds us we are one glued duo. We’ll send real letters like our grandparents did, handwritten in smart cursive curls. We’ll extend cell plans and chat through favorite shows like a commentary track just for each other. We’ll get our braces off on the same day, chew whole packs of gum. We’ll nab some serious studs but tell each other everything. Double-date at a roadside diner exactly halfway between our homes. Cry on shoulders when our boys fail us. We’ll room together at State, cover the walls floor-to-ceiling with incense posters of pop dweebs gone wry. See how beer feels. Be those funny cute girls everybody’s got an eye on. We’ll have a secret code for hot boys in passing. A secret dog named Freshman Fifteen we’ll have to hide in the rafters during inspection. Follow some jam band one summer, grooving on lawns, refusing drugs usually. Get tattoos that only spell something when we stand together. I’ll be maid of honor in your wedding and you’ll be co-maid with my sister but only cause she’d disown me if I didn’t let her. We’ll start a store selling just what we like. We’ll name our firstborn daughters after one another, and if our husbands don’t like it, tough. Lifespans being what they are, we’ll be there for each other when our men have passed, and all the friends who come to visit our assisted living condo will be dazzled by what fun we still have together. We’ll be the kind of besties who make outsiders wonder if they’ve ever known true friendship, but we won’t even notice how sad it makes them and they won’t bring it up because you and I will be so caught up in the fun, us marveling at how not-good it never was.
Gabe Durham (Fun Camp)
Tomo did not join them. Kami saw that he had taken one of his violent fancies to Ash, the way he had taken to lemonade, Mr. Stearn’s bulldog, and his favorite toy race car that had burned with everything else in their house. He walked happily alongside Ash, holding on to his hand, and clearly wished for nothing more.
Ash seemed alarmed to have been so firmly taken possession of by an eight-year-old. He and Tomo fell back a little, until they were walking with Jared and Kami.
“I am so sad about my underwear,” Kami announced, and Ash looked as if he regretted all of his life decisions.
“Not in front of the little boy!” he said reproachfully. “Anyway, you were saying that you would borrow clothes from Holly and Angela.”
“I’m the third tallest in my class,” Tomo informed him, with the air of one out to impress. “And I know all about underwear.”
“You heard the man,” said Kami. “Besides which, no. I cannot possibly borrow underclothes from Holly and Angela. Bras especially.”
“I know,” said Jared.
“Oh, you do, do you?” Kami inquired. “And how do you know, may I ask?”
There was a slight flush along the lines of Jared’s cheekbones. “Observation.”
It was probably sad that this cheered Kami up, but Jared usually seemed so wary about her body, the physical fact of it, that the simple knowledge that he had been looking did please her. She leaned back infinitesimally closer into the warm line of his arm around her shoulders, the warm line of his body against her side.
“Kami, would you maybe stop mentioning your unmentionables,” Ash said, spoiling the moment.
“I shall not,” Kami told him. “It’s a serious problem. I am, and I mean this absolutely literally, in need of support.”
I’d suspect you of going funny in the head from smoke inhalation, said Ash, but you always talk like this.
Sarah Rees Brennan (Unmade (The Lynburn Legacy, #3))
He’s close enough now that I can hear his footfall on the pavement, and I know
my chances of outrunning him are slim. I’m practically in a full sprint, and my
pounding heart is begging me to take it down a notch. I try to will my feet to keep pace with its beat; but I think it’s humanly impossible to run that fast. And then it dawns on me that my footsteps are the only ones I hear.
Somewhere along the way, Tristan’s must have come to a stop. And I can’t quite explain why I’m running this fast in the first place. I slow to a jog, intending to just pick up with my original pace; but I can’t seem to suck in breaths fast enough to propel my feet any further. My molten shoes stutter to a stop, as my hands come to rest on my knees. I’m still wheezily sucking in breath after breath of thick, humid air, when I warily turn to
look over my shoulder.
Tristan’s standing about fifty feet back, hands on his hips and a completely
flummoxed twist in his forehead, his chest rising and falling with equally winded gasps. Evidently I was running faster than I gave myself credit for. As he silently watches me, regaining his breath as I do mine, the confusion on his face turns to undeniable hurt (and not the physical kind). I’ve wounded him, and I can’t even
Man, I really am an ass. I start the slow walk of shame back to where he stands, one hand upon my hip as I pull in a few more calming deep breaths. I’m debating whether to concoct some excuse for my behavior…Maybe I left my contacts out today, and didn’t recognize
his face? Who would blame me for running for my life, if a stranger seemed to be following me? But as I amble closer—his wrinkled forehead already fading in the wake of a welcoming smile—I decide not to dig myself a deeper hole. I’m already a
straight-up jerk. I’d rather not add lying to my repertoire.
M.A. George (Aqua)
A loud clang of what sounded like a tray hitting the marble kitchen floor made Bree jump and Gianni go wide eyed with apparent terror. He covered his ears and shook his head. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” He fell over and covered his head. Bree rushed over to him as he began shrieking fearfully. “Maaammaaaaaa!” “Is okay, Gianni. Just a ting falled down,” Will said patting Gianni’s back but Bree noticed her little boy’s hand was shaking. “It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s here. That’s okay,” she crouched down and gathered Gianni into her arms. “Bang! Mama. It bang!” he wailed into her shoulder, trembling in her arms. “It was just a loud noise. Cook just dropped something, probably a whole big plate of yucky beets. Isn’t that funny?” she said, forcing a laugh. Jesus Christ, how much more violence would her children be forced to endure? Again, Bree felt selfish for bringing her innocent babies into the Dardano world. Gianni looked up at her, picking up on her tone he gave a small watery smile. “Ucky ee “Yucky yucky beets,” Bree repeated bouncing him lightly as her heart returned to its normal rhythm in her chest. Gianni giggled and shuddered against her as the last remnants of his fear dissipated. Bree looked over at Will. “You okay, sweetie?” Will blinked and looked over at her, wide eyed and his lower lip quivered, but he set his chin like she knew he’d watched Alessandro do and nodded. “I bwave. I nod scared.” Bree smiled at him and kissed his cheek as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Wow. That is pretty brave. I know I was
scared when I first heard the noise.” “Really?” Will asked hesitantly. “Definitely,” Bree nodded. Gianni echoed the gesture. “Well, dat’s diffen. You’s a girl.” “Oh, is that so?” Bree asked setting Gianni on the blanket next to her. “So you think ’cause mommy’s a girl she’s a fraidy cat. Huh? Huh?” she asked poking him. Will curled in on himself and giggled as he tried to avoid her fingers.
E. Jamie (The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2))
BILL MURRAY, Cast Member: Gilda got married and went away. None of us saw her anymore. There was one good thing: Laraine had a party one night, a great party at her house. And I ended up being the disk jockey. She just had forty-fives, and not that many, so you really had to work the music end of it. There was a collection of like the funniest people in the world at this party. Somehow Sam Kinison sticks in my brain. The whole Monty Python group was there, most of us from the show, a lot of other funny people, and Gilda. Gilda showed up and she’d already had cancer and gone into remission and then had it again, I guess. Anyway she was slim. We hadn’t seen her in a long time. And she started doing, “I’ve got to go,” and she was just going to leave, and I was like, “Going to leave?” It felt like she was going to really leave forever. So we started carrying her around, in a way that we could only do with her. We carried her up and down the stairs, around the house, repeatedly, for a long time, until I was exhausted. Then Danny did it for a while. Then I did it again. We just kept carrying her; we did it in teams. We kept carrying her around, but like upside down, every which way—over your shoulder and under your arm, carrying her like luggage. And that went on for more than an hour—maybe an hour and a half—just carrying her around and saying, “She’s leaving! This could be it! Now come on, this could be the last time we see her. Gilda’s leaving, and remember that she was very sick—hello?” We worked all aspects of it, but it started with just, “She’s leaving, I don’t know if you’ve said good-bye to her.” And we said good-bye to the same people ten, twenty times, you know. And because these people were really funny, every person we’d drag her up to would just do like five minutes on her, with Gilda upside down in this sort of tortured position, which she absolutely loved. She was laughing so hard we could have lost her right then and there. It was just one of the best parties I’ve ever been to in my life. I’ll always remember it. It was the last time I saw her.
James Andrew Miller (Live From New York: An Uncensored History Of Saturday Night Live)
Wanna hear something funny?”
“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?”
“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?
Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #1))
knew that she was picturing the lonely dogs at the shelter. She felt her own eyes fill up. Lizzie could remember so many times when she had left the shelter at the end of the day feeling so, so sorry for all the dogs she could not take home with her. But then Aunt Amanda shook her head. “Still, I just can’t let Pugsley drive all the other dogs crazy. Did you see him stealing everybody’s toys last time you were here? He kept stashing them over behind the slide. There must have been ten toys over there by the end of the day!” Lizzie nodded. “I saw,” she said. She had also seen Max and another dog, Ruby, sniffing all over, looking for their toys. Mr. Pest was a troublemaker, no doubt about it. But still. Pugsley was just a puppy. And he didn’t know any better because nobody had ever taught him the right way to behave. Maybe she, Lizzie, could help Pugsley become a dog that somebody would be happy to own. “What if I tried to train him a little bit, during the days when I’m here?” she asked Aunt Amanda. Aunt Amanda shook her head. “I think Ken is serious about giving him up,” she said. “Pugsley won’t be coming here anymore.” She put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “I know you care,” she said. “So do I. But there’s really nothing we can do. Let’s go see what everybody’s up to. I think it’s time for some outdoor play.” Lizzie tried to smile. She loved taking the dogs outside to the fenced play yard out in back. “Can Pugsley come?” she asked. “Of course!” Aunt Amanda smiled back. “What fun would it be without Mr. Pest?” Then her smile faded. Lizzie knew what Aunt Amanda was thinking. And she agreed. Bowser’s Backyard just would not be the same without Pugsley around. Yes, it would be calmer. But it would not be as much fun. Aunt Amanda was right. “She’s right, isn’t she, Mr. Pest?” Lizzie said, when she found the pug in the nap room. He was quiet for once, curled up with Hoss on the bottom bunk. They looked so cute together! Lizzie sat down for a moment to pat the tiny pug and the gigantic Great Dane. They made such a funny pair! Aunt Amanda had told Lizzie that when she first opened Bowser’s Backyard she thought it would be a good idea to separate the big dogs from the little ones. But the dogs wanted to be together! They whined at the gates that kept them apart until Aunt Amanda gave up and let them all mingle. From then on, big dogs and little dogs wrestled, played, and napped together
Ellen Miles (Pugsley (The Puppy Place, #9))
Marriage meant jointures and pin money and siring an heir to continue the dynasty. A cottage meant just him and Maria.
What a fool he was. Even a woman with Maria’s low connections wanted more. And he couldn’t give it. The very thought of attempting it made him ill, because he could never make her happy. He would muck it up, and the legacy of misery would go on.
But he’d be damned if he’d watch her throw herself away on that fool Hyatt. She deserved better than an indifferent fiancé who had no clue how to make her eyes darken in passion as she shuddered and trembled and gave her mouth so sweetly…
He groaned. He shouldn’t have gone so far with her. It had frightened her. Worse yet, his reaction to it bloody well terrified him-because he’d give a great deal to be able to do it again. He’d never felt that way for any other woman.
Freddy was still blathering on, and suddenly a word arrested him.
“What was that you said?” Oliver asked.
“The beefsteak needed a bit more salt-“
“Before that,” he ground out.
“Oh. Right. There was a chap in that club claiming he was your cousin. Mr. Desmond Plumtree, I think.”
His stomach sank. When had Desmond gained membership at such a selective club? Did it mean the bastard was finally becoming accepted in society?
“Though if you ask me,” Freddy went on, “with family like him, who needs enemies? Insulting fellow. Told me a bunch of nonsense about how you’d killed your father and everybody knew it.” Freddy sniffed. “I told him he was a scurrilous lout, and if he couldn’t see that you were a good sort of chap, then he was as blind as a town crier with a broken lantern. And he didn’t belong in the Blue Swan with all those amiable gents, neither.”
For a moment, speech utterly failed Oliver. He could only imagine Desmond’s reaction to that little lecture. “And…er…what did he say?”
“He looked surprised, then muttered something about playing cards and trotted off to a card room. Good riddance, too-he was eating up all the macaroons.”
Oliver gaped at him, then began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You and Maria-don’t you Americans ever pay attention to gossip?”
“Well, sure, if it makes sense. But that didn’t make sense. If everybody knew you’d killed your father, you’d have been hanged by now. Since you’re sitting right here, you can’t have done it.” Freddy tapped his forehead. “Simple logic is all.”
“Right,” Oliver said. “Simple logic.” A lump caught in his throat. Maria’s defending him was one thing; she was a woman and softhearted, though that had certainly never kept any other woman from gossiping about him.
But to have an impressionable pup like Freddy defend him…he didn’t know whether to scoff at the fellow’s naivete or clap him on the shoulder and pronounce him a “good sort of chap” as well.
Sabrina Jeffries (The Truth About Lord Stoneville (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #1))
He had a rough idea where he was going, since Rylann had previously mentioned that she lived in Roscoe Village. At the stoplight at Belmont Avenue, he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. The beauty of text messaging, he realized, was in its simplicity. He didn’t have to try to explain things, nor did he have to attempt to parse through all the banter in an attempt to figure out what she might be thinking. Instead, he could keep things short and sweet.
I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU.
He hit send.
To kill time while he waited for her response, he drove in the direction of his sister’s wine shop, figuring he could always drop in and harass Jordan about something.
This time, however, she beat him to the punch.
“So who’s the brunette bombshell?” Jordan asked as soon as he walked into the shop and took a seat at the main bar.
Damn. He’d forgotten about the stupid Scene and Heard column. Kyle helped himself to a cracker and some Brie cheese sitting on the bar. “I’m going to say…Angelina Jolie. Actually, no—Megan Fox.”
“Megan Fox is, like, twenty-five.”
“And this is a problem why, exactly?”
Jordan slapped his hand as he reached for more crackers. “Those are for customers.” She put her hand on her hip. “You know, after reading the Scene and Heard column, I’d kind of hoped it was Rylann they were talking about. And that maybe, just maybe, my ne’er-do-well twin had decided to stop playing around and finally pursue a woman of quality.”
He stole another cracker. “Now, that would be something.”
She shook her head. “Why do I bother? You know, one day you’re going to wake up and…”
Kyle’s cell phone buzzed, and he tuned out the rest of Jordan’s lecture—he could probably repeat the whole thing word for word by now—as he checked the incoming message. It was from Rylann, her response as short and sweet as his original text.
3418 CORNELIA, #3.
He had her address.
With a smile, he looked up and interrupted his sister. “That’s great, Jordo. Hey, by any chance do you have any bottles of that India Ink cabernet lying around?”
She stopped midrant and stared at him. “I’m sure I do. Why, what made you think of that?” Then her face broke into a wide grin. “Wait a second…that was the wine Rylann talked about when she was here. She said it was one of her favorites.”
“Did she? Funny coincidence.”
Jordan put her hand over her heart. “Oh my God, you’re trying to impress her. That is so cute.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyle scoffed. “I just thought, since I’ve heard such good things about the wine, that I would give it a shot.”
Jordan gave him a look, cutting through all the bullshit. “Kyle. She’s going to love it.”
Okay, whatever. Maybe he was trying to impress Rylann a little. “You don’t think it’s too much? Like I’m trying too hard?”
Jordan put her hand over her heart again. “Oh. It’s like watching Bambi take his first steps.”
“Jordo…” he growled warningly.
With a smile, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “It’s perfect. Trust me.
Julie James (About That Night (FBI/US Attorney, #3))
Syn pulled his boxers on and quietly left the bedroom, walking angrily to the kitchen. He turned the corner and wanted to throw a shit-fit at the sight before him. Day was standing at his stove loading some type of egg dish onto a plate before turning and setting it in front of God. God folded down one side of his newspaper, peering at Syn from behind it.
“Well good morning, sunshine,” Day said way too cheerily for five-fucking-a.m. “We brought breakfast.”
Syn clenched his jaw, trying not to yell at his superior officers. “Have you two lost your fuckin’ minds? Come on. It’s, it’s ... early.” Syn turned his wrist, forgetting he didn’t have his watch on yet. “Damn, you guys are always at the office, or at a crime scene, or over fucking here at god-awful hours.”
“Oh, it’s early?” Day said disbelievingly. God shrugged like he hadn’t realized either.
“Seriously. When the fuck do you guys sleep?”
“Never,” God said nonchalantly.
“When do you fuck?” Syn snapped.
“Always,” Day quipped. “Just did thirty minutes ago. Nice couch by the way, real comfy, sorry for the stain.” Syn tiredly flipped Day off.
“Don’t be pissed,” Day sing-songed. “A dab of Shout will get that right out.”
Syn rubbed angrily at his tired eyes, growling, “Day.”
“He’s not in a joking mood, sweetheart,” God said from behind his paper. “You know we didn’t fuck on your couch so calm the hell down. Damn you’re moody in the morning. Unless ... We weren’t interrupting anything, were we? So, how’s porn boy?” God’s gruff voice filled the kitchen, making Syn cringe.
“First of all. Don’t fucking call him that, ever, and damnit God. Lower your voice. Shit. He’s still asleep,” Syn berated his Lieutenant, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by Syn’s irritation. “You guys could let him sleep, he’s had a rough night, ya know.”
Day leaned his chest against God’s large back, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Oh damn, what kind of friends are we? It was rough, huh?” Day looked apologetic.
“Yes, it was, Day. He just–”
“Try water-based lube next time,” Day interrupted, causing God to choke on his eggs.
“Day, fuck.” Syn tried not to grin, but when he thought about it, it really was funny.
“I knew I’d get you to smile. Have some breakfast Sarge, we gotta go question the crazy chicks. You know how much people feel like sharing when they’ve spent a night in jail.”
“Damn. Alright, just let me–”
“Wow. Something smells great.” Furi’s deep voice reached them from down the hall as he made his way to the kitchen. “You cook babe? Who knew? I’ll have the Gladiator portion.” Furi used his best Roman accent as he sauntered into the kitchen with his hands on hips and his head high.
Syn turned just as Furi noticed God and Day.
“Oh, fuck, shit, Jesus Christ!” Furi stumbled, his eyes darting wildly between all of them. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” Furi looked at Syn trying to gauge exactly how much he’d fucked up just now.
Syn smiled at him and Furi immediately lost the horrified expression. Syn held his hand out and mouthed to him 'it's okay.
It’s not all about hitting. There’s an art to it. A talent. You need power but also smarts. When to hit and where. You have to outthink your opponent. It’s not all about size. Determination and experience play a part.”
“Like in business,” she said.
“The skill set translates.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t it hurt when you get hit?”
“Some. But boxing is what I knew. Without it, I would have just been some kid on the streets.”
“You’re saying hitting people kept you from being bad?”
“Something like that. Put down your glass.”
She set it on the desk. He did the same, then stepped in front of her.
“Hit me,” he said.
She tucked both hands behind her back. “I couldn’t.”
The amusement was back. “Do you actually think you can hurt me?”
She eyed his broad chest. “Probably not. And I might hurt myself.”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, then unfastened his tie. In one of those easy, sexy gestures, he pulled it free of his collar and tossed it over a chair.
“Raise your hands and make a fist,” he said. “Thumbs out.”
Feeling a little foolish, she did as he requested. He stood in front of her again, this time angled, his left side toward her.
“Hit me,” he said. “Put your weight behind it. You can’t hurt me.”
“Are you challenging me?”
He grinned. “Think you can take me?”
Not on her best day, but she was willing to make the effort. She punched him in the arm. Not hard, but not lightly.
He frowned. “Anytime now.”
“Try again. This time hit me like you mean it or I’ll call you a girl.”
“I am a girl.”
She punched harder this time and felt the impact back to her shoulder. Duncan didn’t even blink.
“Maybe I’d do better at tennis,” she murmured.
“It’s all about knowing what to do.” He moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You want to bend your knees and keep your chin down. As you start the punch, think about a corkscrew.” He demonstrated in slow motion.
“That will give you power,” he said. “It’s a jab. A good jab can make a boxer’s career. Lean into the punch.”
She was sure his words were making sense, but it was difficult to think with him standing so close. She was aware of his body just inches from hers, of the strength and heat he radiated. The need to simply relax into his arms was powerful.
Still, she did her best to pay attention, and when he stepped in front of her again so she could demonstrate, she did her best to remember what he’d said.
This time, she felt the impact all the way up her arm. There was a jarring sensation, but also the knowledge that she’d hit a lot harder.
“Did I bruise you?” she asked, almost hoping he would say yes, or at least rub his arm.
“No, but that was better. Did you feel the difference?”
“Yes, but I still wouldn’t want to be a boxer.”
“Probably for the best. You’d get your nose broken.”
She dropped her arms to her sides. “I wouldn’t want that.” She leaned closer. “Have you had your nose broken?”
“A couple of times.”
She peered at his handsome face. “I can’t tell.”
“I was lucky.”
She put her hand on his chin to turn his head. He looked away, giving her a view of his profile. There was a small bump on his nose. Nothing she would have noticed.
“You couldn’t just play tennis?” she asked.
He laughed, then captured her hand in his and faced her. They were standing close together, his fingers rubbing hers. She shivered slightly, but not from cold. His eyes darkened as he seemed to loom over her. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He swallowed.
The word was more breath than sound. She heard the wanting in his voice and felt an answering hunger burning inside her. There were a thousand reasons she should run and not a single reason to stay. She knew that she was the one at risk, knew that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. But the temptation was too great. Being around Duncan was the best part of her day.
Susan Mallery (High-Powered, Hot-Blooded)
he is a sence of unrest the new birth maybe is not that good....bitterness...except for his grandson ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 8 | posición 123-125 | Añadido el miércoles, 6 de mayo de 2015 23:07:16 Ethan was still as good-looking as he’d been before, a fact that annoyed her as much as anything else. It seemed like a life of crime should cast its mark on your appearance. But he still had the same strong features, vivid green eyes, and lean, fit body. His hair had been blazing red when he was a kid, but it had darkened now to an auburn. ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 9 | posición 127-128 | Añadido el miércoles, 6 de mayo de 2015 23:07:49 Ethan’s plans, the way he always had. He’d always trusted Ethan. So had she. The thought upset ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 9 | posición 132-134 | Añadido el miércoles, 6 de mayo de 2015 23:09:09 He’d seemed to transform while he was away from the skinny boy she’d known before. He’d broadened across the shoulders and chest, and he’d suddenly become really good-looking. Very good-looking. ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 9 | posición 134-135 | Añadido el miércoles, 6 de mayo de 2015 23:09:22 The lingering crush on him Ashley had had all her life had morphed into full-blown love. ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 28 | posición 427-427 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 7:39:32 hot-wire a car. Why ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 38 | posición 574-574 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 18:22:07 He screeched to a halt. As soon as he slammed it into ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 42 | posición 641-642 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 19:30:10 He was the antithesis of the nice, clean, stable life she wanted to build for herself. He was bossy, and arrogant, and infuriating, and condescending, and presumptuous, and smug, and without compassion, and bossy… ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 42 | posición 643-644 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 19:30:23 And he had looked so funny in that cowboy hat. And he had the most delicious laugh she had ever heard. And sometimes, like when he’d fake-kissed her earlier, there was a warmth in his eyes that was so unexpected, so breathtaking… ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 62 | posición 945-945 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 20:55:59 As long as you don’t hog the covers.” ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 82 | posición 1253-1254 | Añadido el jueves, 7 de mayo de 2015 23:37:15 he wasn’t a bad guy at heart. He’d never been truly a bad guy. For the first time in the last eighteen months, she knew it for sure. ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 94 | posición 1438-1439 | Añadido el viernes, 8 de mayo de 2015 7:45:17 she felt like it was only humane to let him know she was okay. ========== Road Tripping (Noelle Adams) - Tu subrayado en la página 179 | posición 2744-2745 | Añadido el viernes, 8 de mayo de 2015 21:04:11 was uncomfortably hot and smushed. Attempting to rouse herself ========== Mis recortes - Tu subrayado en la posición 1-6 | Añadido el sábado, 9 de mayo de 2015 13:59:08 When I Break (Ryan, Kendall) - Tu subrayado en la posición 518-519 | Añadido el viernes, 13 de marzo de 2015 20:31:52 Her voice was light, clear, and appealing. ========== When We Fall (Kendall Ryan) - Tu subrayado en la página 105 | posición 1601-1601 | Añadido el lunes, 16 de marzo de 2015 11:42:37 Two long and hard days had passed since Knox told me. ========== Unravel Me (Ryan, Kendall) - Tu nota en la página 20 | posición 304 | Añadido el martes, 17 de marzo de 2015 1:24:23 interesante ====
Never mind. Sorry. Everything can wait. Let’s stay on topic. You feel I’ve neglected you. Physically in general. Kissing specifically. Fair enough. Challenge accepted.”
“Challenge? I didn’t issue any challenge.” Did I?
“Let’s do this.”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Whoa!” My hands flew into the air and I moved to escape. “This is stupid.”
He blocked my path. “Hold on. Not stupid at all. You have a valid point, just give me a minute.” He rolled his shoulders, shook out his arms, rocked on the balls of his feet a few times, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Okay. I’m ready.”
I frowned. “You have to gear-up to kiss me?
A. Kirk (Drop Dead Demons (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #2))
What are you doing here?” he mumbled.
“Um, you asked me to follow you?” Marrill said. The wizard chuckled. “Not you,” he said, continuing downward. “I meant the Promenade Deck.” He waved his hand over his shoulder at the floor they’d just passed. “You’ll have to watch out for that one—it likes to walk off. Best to stay away from it. Never know where it’ll end up; sometimes it up and heads to another ship.”
“Um…” Her words faltered. “How do I know which one’s the Promenade Deck?” He glanced up at her, forehead furrowed. “It’s the one that moves.
Carrie Ryan (The Map to Everywhere (The Map to Everywhere, #1))
As Famine walks off with Ben, I hear him say, “I can make you more flowers, but if you shit on me, deal’s off.” “Famine,” Pestilence snaps after him. “Relax, Grandpa,” Famine calls out over his shoulder, “Ben’s going to wait until he’s on your horse before he does anything funny.
Laura Thalassa (Death (The Four Horsemen, #4))
A woman about my mother's age touched my shoulder. "Anything broken, sweetie?"
I looked around. "I'm not sure. Where are my poles?"
Pug laughed. "She meant you, Pickles. Did you break any bones?
Ashleigh Stevens (Elephant on my Chest)
Mom wasn’t a weak person, or a wisp of a domineered housewife who hid in the background. Far from it. She was a vivacious, funny, and smart woman who loudly voiced her opinions, and would’ve been a suffragette had she lived in the twenties. She was gorgeous, with shoulder-length brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. She was strong and was an athlete as a teenager. She smoked, drank, and laughed out loud. A vital presence. She just never did understand or relate to children. She left school as a teenager and worked full-time in an office, then married young and became a mother and housewife. Now she found herself in New York in the swinging sixties, and despite my dad’s best efforts to make her the perfect square wife, she was energized, curious, and had time on her hands. She took music lessons, looked longingly at the bohemian lifestyle, and went off alone to the Newport Jazz Festival to see Miles Davis. Not about to be the happy homemaker, she wanted to party.
Flea (Acid for the Children: A Memoir)
I had my answer now. Tristan not only survived, he spent the last five years practicing how to sound like the villain from a stage play. I allowed myself a weak chuckle. But I didn’t feel like my joke was particularly funny.
Andrew Rowe (On the Shoulders of Titans (Arcane Ascension, #2))
shoulders to the mat, and hold him there for a count of three!
James Patterson (I Funny: School of Laughs (I Funny Series))
She sits with shoulders slumped, staring at the wall, waiting for an answer, waiting to feel some joy. She's holding her breath without knowing it, listening to her body like a pregnant woman, listening, bending down deep into herself. But nothing stirs, everything is silent and empty like a forest when no birds are singing. She tries harder, this twenty-eight-year-old woman, to remember what it is to be happy, and with alarm she realizes that she no longer knows, that it's like a foreign language she learned in childhood but has now forgotten, remembering only that she knew it once. When was the last time I was happy? She thinks hard, and two little lines are etched in her bowed forehead. Gradually it comes to her: an image as though from a dim mirror, a thin-legged blond girl, her schoolbag swinging above her short cotton skirt. A dozen other girls are swirling about her: it's a game of rounders in a park in suburban Vienna. A surge of laughter, a bright trill of high spirits following the ball into the air, now she remembers how light, how free that laughter felt, it was never far away, it tickled under her skin, it swirled through her blood; one shake and it would spill out over her lips, it was so free, almost too free: on the school bench you had to hug yourself and bite your lip to keep from laughing at some funny remark or silliness in French class. Any little thing would set off waves of that effervescent girlish laughter. A teacher who stammered, a funny face in the mirror, a cat chasing its tail, a look from an officer on the street, any little thing, any tiny, senseless bit of nonsense, you were so full of laughter that anything could bring it out. It was always there and ready to erupt, that free, tomboyish laughter, and even when she was asleep, its high-spirited arabesque was traced on her young mouth.
Stefan Zweig (The Post-Office Girl)
I do not remember. I have said this.”
“Or…the time you shared your mate with me? In the furs?”
I growl low and stop in my tracks, sudden fury sweeping over me.
Harrec stops, too. He raises his hands into the air, grinning. “It is a joke, friend. Merely a joke. I was testing you.”
“It is not funny.” Another hunter walks up and gives Harrec a push on the shoulders, indicating he should walk. It is Bek. “Your jokes are as poor as your hunting skills.
Ruby Dixon (Barbarian's Heart (Ice Planet Barbarians, #9))
Papina had grey hair and a purple face. She was like a trained mouse, one of those small white ones that sit up on their tails and then fall flat, their stomachs slapping the ground. She got up on her tail and stayed there through some miracle of balance, to the confusion of all who saw her walking around on her little bow legs and funny round feet. Yet her hands were so quick and lively that one couldn’t even feel her buttoning up a dress, lacing a belt or pulling a skirt round the hips to adjust it. As she took the blue trousers and yellow sash from the wardrobe for Irma, she walked behind Gioia and shook the girl’s shoulders. “Quickly, my lovely! If you sit there under a spell, the prince can’t carry you off to the wedding…” She’d read all the fairy stories and took delight in being irresistibly droll, so instead of wedding she’d said werewolf; she was imitating Macario, whom she’d seen at the cinema.
Augusto De Angelis (The Mystery of the Three Orchids)
Are we going to…” she started to ask, her voice turning scratchy.
St. Vincent began on the front fastenings of her gown. “Are we going to…” he repeated, and followed her gaze to the bed. “Good God, no.” His fingers moved rapidly along her bodice, freeing the row of buttons. “Delectable as you are, my love, I’m too tired. I’ve never said this in my entire life—but at the moment I would much rather sleep than fuck.”
Overwhelmed with relief, Evie let out an unsteady sigh. She was forced to clutch at him for balance as he pushed the loosened gown down over her hips. “I don’t like that word,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Well, you had better get used to it,” came his caustic reply. “That word is said frequently at your father’s club. God knows how you managed to escape hearing it before.”
“I did,” she said indignantly, stepping out of the discarded gown. “I just didn’t know what it meant until now.”
St. Vincent bent to untie her shoes, his broad shoulders quivering. A curious gasping, choking noise came from him. At first Evie wondered anxiously if he had suddenly been taken ill, and then she realized that he was laughing. It was the first genuine laughter she had ever heard from him, and she had no idea what he found so funny. Standing over him in her chemise and drawers, she crossed her arms over her front and frowned.
Lisa Kleypas (Devil in Winter (Wallflowers, #3))
Who’s the harlot who broke your heart?” she demanded. “I haven’t been disgraced this badly by a mortal since that Psyche girl a few months back!” “Well, actually, about that…” Eros told her the truth. Aphrodite hit the roof. Literally. She blasted the ceiling to rubble with a pretty pink explosion, giving Eros the new skylight he’d always wanted. “You ungrateful little boy!” she screamed. “You were always trouble! You never listen. You mess with everyone’s feelings, even mine! I should disown you. I should take away your immortality, your bow and arrows, and give them to one of my manservants. Any mortal slave can do your job. It’s not that hard. You never apply yourself. You never follow directions. You—” Blah, blah, blah. And on and on like that for about six hours. Finally she noticed that Eros’s face was sweaty and pale, which you don’t normally see with an immortal. He was shivering under the blankets. His gaze was unfocused. “What’s wrong with you?” Aphrodite moved to the side of his bed, pulled back the covers, and saw the festering, steaming wound in his shoulder. “Oh, no! My poor baby!” Funny how a mom’s mood can change like that. She wants to strangle you, then BOOM!—a little life-threatening injury, and she’s cooing about her poor baby.
Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson's Greek Heroes (A Percy Jackson and the Olympians Guide))
No one asked you, boy,” Gawain said. “Get back with the other soldiers.”
Clark flinched, his shoulders climbing to his ears and his face falling. His gaze darted to Fallon and away as he took the dressing down.
“I asked him here,” Shea said, staring Gawain down.
He snorted but didn’t say anything, Fallon’s presence keeping him from voicing his opinion.
“I’ll just go, Shea. It’s alright. I should probably report back to see if they need any scouts.” Clark didn’t wait for a reply, turning his horse and sending it galloping back to the line.
She watched him go before taking a deep breath. She turned back around. Eamon and Buck watched her for a moment before giving the Rain Clan’s elder hard glances. He didn’t pay them any attention, probably deciding they were no worthier of being here, than Clark had been.
“You do the boy no favors by making him think he can break the chain of command,” Gawain said, his tone patronizing. “You won’t always be there to protect him.”
Shea’s hands tightened on the reins of her mount. It took considerable effort to bite back the words that wanted to escape her. Only the knowledge that Fallon might have need of this man kept her from the scathing retort she had forming.
In a coordinated movement, made all the more comical for it, Buck and Eamon stuck their tongues out and rolled their eyes before assuming their normal stone-faced expressions—the ones they wore around Trateri expedition leaders whom they found obnoxious.
Shea smothered the brief giggle the sight caused her. She schooled her face and gave them a nod of gratitude. She looked up and blinked, as she found herself pinned under the enigmatic gaze of Fallon. His eyes flicked to her two friends then back to her.
She held her breath, sensing a chastisement coming. He lowered one eyelid in an exaggerated wink before sticking just the tip of his tongue out and wrinkling his nose. This time she didn’t quite contain her laugh.
Fallon’s face was cool and implacable as Shea lost the battle and her chortles rolled out. The rest of the party besides Fallon, Eamon and Buck eyed her with concern, not seeing what she found so funny.
“If the Telroi could compose herself, perhaps we could get back to the business at hand,” Braden said.
“My name is Shea. I suggest you remember it.
T.A. White (Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands, #2))
A splash of light snuck beneath the a dressing room door. He heard a groan. A shuffle. A bump. A heavy sigh.
"Uh, too tight."
He walked toward the back, stopping outside the dressing room. The door was cracked a fraction. He rested a shoulder against the wall, and glanced inside. Grace as Catwoman blew his mind. A feline fantasy.
The three-way mirror tripled his pleasure. He viewed her from every angle. Hot, sleek, fierce. The lady could fight Batman in her skintight black leather catsuit and come out the winner.
After a moment she scrunched her nose, slapped her palms against her thighs. Stuck out her tongue at her reflection in the mirrors. He saw what had her so frustrated. Sympathized with her disappointment. Her costume didn't fit. The front zipper hadn't fully cleared her cleavage, which was deep and visible. She wore no bra. She gave a little hop, and her breasts bounced. Full and plump. He felt a tug at his groin. Superhero lust.
He cleared his throat and made his presence known. She caught his image in the corner of the glass, and reached for the fitting room chair, positioning it between them.
Like that would keep him from her. He should've looked away, but couldn't. He sensed her embarrassment. Her panic. Flight? She had nowhere to go. He blocked the door. He wasn't leaving until they'd talked.
"Archibald's going to love your costume," he initiated.
She didn't find him funny. Her gaze narrowed behind the molded cat-eye mask with attached ears. Her fingers clenched in her elbow-length gloves. Inspired by the movie The Dark Knight, she'd added a whip and a gun holster. Her thigh-high stiletto boots were killer, adding five inches to her height. Her image would stick with him forever.
She backed against the center mirror, and nervously fingered the open flaps over her breasts. A yank on the zipper broke the tab. The metal teeth parted, and the gap widened, revealing the round inner curves of her breasts. A hint of her nipples. Dusky pink. All the way down to the dent of her navel.
Kate Angell (The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine)
It was a strange thing, really, seeing my boyfriend's naked ass thrusting between widespread thighs. Was that what he looked like when he was on top of me? Because I had to say he appeared rather ridiculous, pumping away like an unhinged bunny. Then again, I'd never liked that particular method of his; I'd rarely orgasmed when pounded like a piece of meat. His partner, however, didn't seem to have that problem. Either she was faking it, or she loved it. But her rather enthusiastic squeaks of delight cut short as she caught sight of me, and all the color drained from her face.
Sadly, it took Greg a bit longer to realize she'd frozen beneath him; Greg always was a bit of a selfish lover. When he finally noticed, he was as smooth as ever, observing me from over his sweaty shoulder without making a move to get off the woman.
Silence fell like a hammer. Or maybe an ax. Why not? An ax could sever more than one thing today. Greg swallowed twice, his gaze darting over me, like he couldn't quite believe I was there. In my own home.
His voice was somewhat shaky when he finally spoke. "You're early."
So many things to say. Scream, maybe? Cry? But I was numb. Completely numb. So I said the only thing I could. "Funny, I think I arrived just in time.
Kristen Callihan (Make It Sweet)
Dad went back to the front, taking Jovie with him, and Kye cornered me. Backing me up until my ass bumped into one of the workshop tables.
“You have no sense of personal space, do you?” Not that I minded. Especially when he trapped me there, planting soft kisses against my throat and shoulder.
“We could try for a workshop-table-baby.” His laughter rumbled in his chest, making my toes curl. “How about it?”
It took an extreme amount of willpower to not let his kisses distract me. “First, we’re not trying for any kind of baby while Dad’s here.”
He grunted, twisting the ends of my hair around his fingers. “We could come back after hours.”
My brows hiked into my hairline. “Why would we come all the way back into town when we have a perfectly comfortable bed. And kitchen. And living room. And the armchair that we still have yet to christen.”
We shared a wicked smirk before I gave him a quick, chaste kiss and whispered, “I don’t want a chisel poking my ass while you fuck me. Not sexy.”
“Armchair baby it is,” he sighed, like he was accepting the next best option. “Should I at least buy you a drink first? Soften you up a bit?”
“Hmmm,” I hummed, reaching up to tap his chin with my index finger. “Well, if you insist. How about hot cocoa?”
He shook his head, laughter dancing in his eyes, and I had to keep myself from getting swept away by his gaze. “I know just the place.”
Kye donned his coat and slid his hand into mine. We made our way to The Bowl, ordered our drinks, and met at the windows where, almost exactly one year ago, I’d dabbed whipped cream off his nose.
I reached up now to do the same after he took his first sip, because he still didn’t have the skills to drink The Bowl’s monstrosity properly.
“I’m starting to think you do it on purpose,” I accused, balling up the napkin. I’d never openly admit it was one of my favorite things.
“Shut up and forking kiss me.”
And I did. I forking kissed the big, Krampus-looking, kindhearted, funny, foul-mouthed, available all-months-of-the-year alien.
It just happened to be another one of my favorite things.
Poppy Rhys (While You Were Creeping (Women of Dor Nye))
• He stopped, blocked by the difficulty of holding himself to honesty and finding the way language fails, sometimes, to get honesty right.”
“His mouth was tight, eyes wide: flooded with something hot and rich and hurt.”
“He’d felt this new thing, giddy and bright. It spun inside him, soft and warm and summery.”
“That door was locked.” “I gave her the keys.” Roshar exploded.
“Fear,” he said, “of what it would mean for me not to trust you. I saddled a horse. I was ready to ride… but I thought that if I did, I’d be nothing more than a different kind of prison to you.”
“Never say so. I am the soul of thoughtfulness.”
“I’ve been thinking.” “Dear gods.”
“He wondered if some part of him was drawn to lies. What was it that made him so easy to deceive?”
“Spears of sun pierced through the trees. Her damp braid bounced between her shoulder blades.”
“Dear ghost, he will tie you and me up and dump us both into a very deep hole before he allows you to do what you plan to do.”
“She paused—had she heard the sore thump of his heart?”
“Yet he understood that there are some things you feel and others that you choose to feel, and that the choice doesn’t make the feeling less valid.
Marie Rutkoski (The Winner's Kiss (The Winner's Trilogy, #3))
like a person who musts up the courage to take part in a tomahawk throwing competition only for their shoulder to lock into place, straining a vein and looking like you’re posing for a portrait that would probably look even more badass if you had signed up to be the nude model in an art class which takes a lot of courage unless you’re already vain.
J.S. Mason (The Satyrist...And Other Scintillating Treats)