Sneak Peek Quotes

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He had a slight smirk on his face. I imagined he was mentally checking off a task in his planner. Seduce date by talking about other girls Impress date with number of awards you have received Do not spend money on date Make date watch corny movie in media center Sneak in comments about your frugality Put arm around date at exactly the halfway mark of the movie

But she doesn't sneak a peek. She simply keeps glaring at me. "You invoked a campus-wide hands-off law? Are you kidding me?" I'm not at all remorseful as I meet her eyes. "Of course I did.

I sneak a peek at his Spotify playlist, half certain it’ll be all just white noise or classic orchestral music, only to find Taylor Swift’s latest album playing instead.

Sometimes Chris wished he could sneak a peek at the back of the book, so to speak, and see how it was all going to turn out, so that he wouldn't have to bother going through the motions.

I get it – you want to see me without my shirt on. You know what? Let me give you a sneak peek. It’s awesome, by the way. You might want to close one eye to reduce the effect.

I sunk down onto the bench in the middle of the car. So Alex had loved me the whole time, from the moment we'd seen each other again? All that time I'd been freaking out about Rachel? All that time I'd spent inches away from him, sleeping in his bed by myself; sitting opposite him at dinner, smashing plates; clinging to him on the back of his bike; sneaking peeks at him through a half-ajar bathroom door - and all the time he'd been in love with me? We'd wasted all that time when we could have been kissing? And he'd had to wait until two seconds before leaving me until he told me? If the Unit didn't kill him, I was going to.

its my birthday wish me happy birthday horus said happy birthday I yelled now shut up

Does it hurt now?" he asked, his tone rough and seductive. "No." She shook her head again and sighed, trying to pretend his touch didn't make her uncomfortably wet. He grinned. "So...what's with the heavy breathing?

Give me a minute to get dressed." "You're not dressed?" I smiled in spite of myself at the lighthearted quility of his jest. Until my broken door began to move. "Jace!" I shouted, trying to keep from laughing as I vaulted off the bed and scrambled to stop him. He wasn't seriously trying to sneak a peek; if he had been, he wouldn't have made any noise. But if I let him get away with a joke today, he'd try it for real tomorrow. Jace yelped as I ripped the door from his grasp and leaned it against the frame. Then he sulked, his eyes roaming just far enough south to see my tank top and shorts. "Liar!" he accused, the smile in his eyes ruining his pout. "You're not naked." "I meant I wanted to change." He grinned. "So, go ahead." "Nice try.

Sloane stepped out from under the showerhead and grabbed his shower gel, catching Dex’s eyes on him as Dex said, “Not staring, appreciating,” before turning his attention back to Ash, “and who doesn’t partake in a good gander every so often? If you’re gonna stand there and tell me you ain’t never sneaked a peek at another dude’s love truncheon, I’m calling bull-poopie.

If life is a movie most people would consider themselves the star of their own feature. Guys might imagine they're living some action adventure epic. Chicks maybe are in a rose-colored fantasy romance. And homosexuals are living la vida loca in a fabulous musical. Still others may take the indie approach and think of themselves as an anti-hero in a coming of age flick. Or a retro badass in an exploitation B movie. Or the cable man in a very steamy adult picture. Some people's lives are experimental student art films that don't make any sense. Some are screwball comedies. Others resemble a documentary, all serious and educational. A few lives achieve blockbuster status and are hailed as a tribute to the human spirit. Some gain a small following and enjoy cult status. And some never got off the ground due to insufficient funding. I don't know what my life is but I do know that I'm constantly squabbling with the director over creative control, throwing prima donna tantrums and pouting in my personal trailor when things don't go my way. Much of our lives is spent on marketing. Make-up, exercise, dieting, clothes, hair, money, charm, attitude, the strut, the pose, the Blue Steel look. We're like walking billboards advertising ourselves. A sneak peek of upcoming attractions. Meanwhile our actual production is in disarray--we're over budget, doing poorly at private test screenings and focus groups, creatively stagnant, morale low. So we're endlessly tinkering, touching up, editing, rewriting, tailoring ourselves to best suit a mass audience. There's like this studio executive in our heads telling us to cut certain things out, make it "lighter," give it a happy ending, and put some explosions in there too. Kids love explosions. And the uncompromising artist within protests: "But that's not life!" Thus the inner conflict of our movie life: To be a palatable crowd-pleaser catering to the mainstream... or something true to life no matter what they say?

I would sneak a peek at while on line at the supermarket. Every time I read something like this, “His masculine beauty took my breath away.” I used to think… A: what kind of a dumbass wrote this dreck. And B: what kind of dumbass reads this drivel. And yet, here I stand, making doe eyes at this man, and what am I thinking? His masculine beauty takes my breath away. That’s right. Who’s the dumbass now?

Shy, all those things you listed don’t make a person. They don’t. I mean it. You’re beautiful, both inside and outside, but please don’t look at me to validate that. You have to know it for yourself. -Taylor Holden, Strapped.

You can have my soul when I don't want it anymore.

It wasn’t just her beauty. It was the attitude in her smile, the tilt of her head, and the loving look in her eyes when she caught me sneaking a peek down her shirt.

For The Broken Ones fans... Sneak peek from Broken Prince: "That simple kiss, such an innocent thing, destroyed me. It tore apart the walls I’d built, the rules I’ve lived by, that had been bred into me. It sent my thoughts down paths they should never have gone. Would never have, if not for you." From Broken Prince (Bk 2 of The Broken Ones)

Wherever did they find you?" "At the junction of hard luck and bad times," I answer. It's something that my momma says.

Where’s our man?” Holy shit, she’d just sounded like a total badass. She was tempted to sneak a peek at D and check if he was impressed, but she didn’t dare risk it.

She is better than strong whiskey on a cold night. Better than anything he’s felt in ages.

I would rather see clouds blot out the stars

Anyway the trick to life is, if you don't like what is happening, go back to sleep until it stops. From a cat.

White undershirt. Dark-framed glasses. Sneak peeks at black boxers. Really? How much more was a girl supposed to be able to take before she either spontaneously combusted or found a shower with a removable showerhead?

They would sneak peeks at me from behind their notebooks or when they thought I wasn’t looking. They would take the longest way around me to avoid bumping into me in any way, like I had some germ they could catch, like my face was contagious.

Look at you with the fancy Latin. Sure then, come and watch me lift. I get it—you want to see me without my shirt on. You know what? Let me give you a sneak peek. It’s awesome, by the way. You might want to close one eye to reduce the effect.

Well, fuck a duck,” comes Morris’s delighted voice. I jerk in surprise, then spin around to glare at him for sneaking up on me from behind. Judging by the amusement dancing in his eyes, it’s obvious he peeked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the photo I’d been drooling over. “I was wondering how he’d pull that one off,” Morris remarks, still grinning like a fool. “Shouldn’t have doubted him, though. That dude is an unstoppable force of nature.” I narrow my eyes. “He told you about the picture?” “About the whole list, actually. We hung out last night—Lorris is close to taking over Brooklyn, by the way—and he was moaning and groaning about not being able to track down a red velvet couch.” Morris shrugs. “I offered to throw a red blanket on the sofa in my common room and take some pictures, but he said you’d consider that cheating and deprive him of your love.” Stifling a sigh, I shove the phone in my purse, then walk over to the mini-fridge across the room and grab a bottle of water. I twist off the cap, doing my best to ignore the sheer enjoyment Morris is getting out of this. “I wish I was gay,” he says ruefully. A snicker pops out. “Uh-huh. Go on. I’m willing to follow you down this rabbit hole and see where it leads.” “Seriously, Gretch, I love him. I have a boner for him.” Morris sighs. “If I’d known he existed, I wouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.” “Gee, thanks.” “Oh, shut up. You’re awesome, and I’d tap that in a second. But I can’t compete with this guy. He’s operating on a whole other level when it comes to you.

But I couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at his crotch a minute later. And then my breath hitched, because holy shit, he was hard, a long, thick erection straining beneath his athletic shorts. I was sporting the same visible boner, and I know he saw it. He probably thought it was the porn. Hell, that was the only reason he was turned on.

When I peeked out the window into the yard, there was Kurt with some kind of contraption on his head that resembled a tin-foil hat, sneaking around the yard followed by a half a dozen laughing toddlers. Kurt had that million-dollar grin on his face and I could tell he was definitely in nirvana. I guess you could say he was the Pied Piper of compassion.

Sometimes I wish I could sneak a peek into that mind of yours and see what you’re thinking. Especially when you smile at me like that. ~ Oliver Sand

I didn’t point out that I’m part Chinese-American and so the odds that I would have been in England back in Shakespeare’s time were highly unlikely. “And,

Déjà vu. Déjà su. Déjà vécu. Already seen. Already known. Already lived.

And by the time I manage the line, I fear I've lost its meaning.

And Adeline understands — and still does not understand at all — feels as if she's being punished for simply growing up.

Кажуть, що люди як сніжинки — усі унікальні, але мені вони більше нагадують небо. Є хмарні, є буремні, є чисті, але нема двох однакових.

Що час завжди збігає на секунду раніше, ніж ти готовий. Що життя рівно на одну хвилину менше, ніж тобі потрібно.

Video sneak-peek for the BARDS musical film preproduction at my Amazon author page: amazon dot com/-/e/B00J4Z1Z3S

I’m thirty. I’m an old man. I can’t cope with this wild, thrill-seeking, field-crossing, tea-stealing lifestyle anymore.

it is sad, of course, to forget. But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten.

And what of Heaven?” asked Adeline. “Heaven is a nice spot in the shade, a broad tree over my bones.

To err is to be human, irrational or not. And while some mistakes are bigger than others, if we learn from them, we become better people.

Якщо живеш дуже довго, вчишся розпізнавати людей. Заохочувати їх розкритися, як книжка, де якісь фрази підкреслені, а якісь ховаються між рядків.

Люди здатні на дивовижні речі. На жорстокість, на війни, а також на мистецтво і винаходи.

Live long enough, and people open up like books. Robbie is a romance novel. A tale of broken hearts. He is so clearly lovesick

No se te escapa la ironía de que por culpa de tu deseo a vivir, de aprender, de encontrarte a ti mismo. Has acabado perdido.

And being at school was awful in the beginning. Every new class I had was like a new chance for kids to “not stare” at me. They would sneak peeks at me from behind their notebooks or when they thought I wasn’t looking. They would take the longest way around me to avoid bumping into me in any way, like I had some germ they could catch, like my face was contagious.

Hey Reader! Thank you so much for signing up to get a sneak peek of Tis the Season for Revenge! Christmas is my favorite time of year, and I thrive off of fun, feel-good Christmas movies and books! I’m so excited to have one of my own! Tis the Season for Revenge contains mentions of cheating, verbal, physical, and financial abuse. Please always put yourself first

There is something about being able to study another man’s body. No sneaking glances or peeks, no pretending to be looking at something else. There is something about the unshielded gaze.

Вічна проблема березня — тепло не затримується. На якусь мить він заявляє, що весна прийшла, та не встигаєш відтанути на сонечку, як тепло вже зникло. Сонце перемістилося. Підкралися тіні.

#13. Make a “real people first” rule Consider making a personal commitment to avoid social media when you are in the presence of friends and family. If your spouse or kids are around, no checking Facebook. If you’re out to dinner with friends, no sneaking a peek at the Instagram that just popped in. Be fully present with the real people in your life rather than distracted by your virtual friends.

У маленьких містах і життя маленьке. Але деяким людям цього достатньо. Їм приємно ступати по знайомій стежці. Та якщо ходитимеш тільки чужими слідами, то ніколи не протопчеш власної стежки. Не залишиш сліду.

Після війни розквітає мистецтво, — каже він. — Але війна навертає на віру навіть циніків. Підлипали відчайдушно шукають спасіння, усі раптом починають триматися за душі, чіплятися за них, як матрона за свої найкращі перли.

When you're doubting the Universe's master plan, take a peek at your surroundings. See those dreams turned into reality? That's the Universe's way of saying, "I got you." It's like a cosmic wink, a nod from the stars that says, "I heard you, and I delivered." It’s like a sneak peek into your own past prayers. So, next time you’re doubting the Universe’s plan, just look at your life – it’s the proof that magic is real, dreams do come true, and the universe has always been secretly rooting for you.

Excerpt from the Marquis's Mistake by myself. “So what am I my Lord, an antidote, a bluestocking or on the shelf? I assume it is the last because I should have come out three years ago and am all of twenty and one.” “But you were not out so that doesn’t count and I find you extremely desirable so you are far from an antidote. I think you very pretty and my taste has always been considered excellent. You are well educated but have other interests and ride well, so you fail to fit the criteria of a bluestocking. It might interest you to know my grandmother put you top of the girls she invited to her dinner party. Her opinion only confirmed what I had already concluded from examining your notebook and sketches. You eavesdrop and I sneak a peek at other people’s private notebooks. You see I think we would be well-matched.

Нехай давні боги й могутні, та вони ані добрі, ані милостиві. Вони ненадійні, вони мінливі, як місячне сяйво на воді, як тіні в бурю. Закличеш їх — стережися: з обережністю висловлюй свої бажання і не забудь сплатити ціну. І навіть у біді чи безнадії ніколи не молися богам, що озиваються по смерку.

Пам’ятаю, коли побачив той знімок, я збагнув, що фотографії несправжні. Нема контексту — лише ілюзія, що це знімок життя, але життя — це не знімок, воно в русі. Тож фотографія — як художня література. Це я в ній і любив. Усі вважають, що фотографія передає правду, але по-справжньому це дуже переконлива брехня.

У тому, що ідеш по світу самотою, є своя гармонія. Відкриваєш те, без чого можеш і не можеш жити, — прості нужди й маленькі радощі, які визначають життя. Не харч, не дах над головою, не базові потреби тіла, — для Адді все це розкіш, — а те, що допомагає зберегти здоровий глузд. Що приносить радість. Що робить життя стерпним.

And as for god, if all it takes is a flair for drama and a bit of golden trim… he flicks his fingers and suddenly the buttons on his coat, the buckles on his shoes, the trim on his waistcoat are no longer black but gilded, burnished stars against a moonless night. But this is the difference between us Adeline, I will always answer.

SGTCWGC GUIDELINES HOW TO GET CAUGTH 1. Text and read texts openly in class. 2. Look at your phone and laugh. 3. Wear clothing without pockets. 4. Forget to silence your phone. HOW NOT TO GET CAUGTH 1. Text without looking at your phone. 2. Sneak a peek at your phone and respond later. 3. Wear a sweatshirt with a front pocket or carry a purse to conceal your phone. 4. Know where your teacher is at all times.

The corridors looked different in this wing. It had fewer doors and seemed more utilitarian, like it’d been built for equipment or supplies. Sure enough, the first door she reached had a sign reading PHYSICAL PLANT OPERATIONS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Since anyone authorized to open the door had been dead for at least a couple hundred years, she figured there was no harm in sneaking a peek. She jiggled the handle. It was locked. Clarke

Є сотні різновидів тиші. Є густа тиша давно зачинених приміщень і приглушена тиша затканих вух. Пустельна тиша мертвих і важка тиша присмертних. Є порожня тиша людини, яка покинула молитися, і невагома тиша безлюдної синагоги, і тиша затамованого подиху того, хто ховається сам від себе. Є ніякова тиша, яка заповнює простір між людьми, коли вони не знають що сказати. І напружена тиша, яка накриває тих, хто знає що сказати, але не знає, як і з чого почати.

I have never seen an unclad male form in my life, and I haven’t suffered for the lack.” “By an extraordinary coincidence, I haven’t seen an unclad male form in my life, either. I’d say it’s time to remedy the situation.” Tugging his shirt open, Amy peered down at his chest. “We can’t look at him when he’s unconscious! It’s . . . it’s immoral.” Miss Victorine fanned herself with her handkerchief. Coal watched the white cotton as if contemplating if it would shred. “Dear Miss Victorine, we abducted him from his own estate. I hardly think sneaking a peek at his chest compares.” Letting his shirt drop back, Amy added, “Besides, we looked at his face.” “That’s different.” Miss Victorine leaned closer. “What color is it?” “What color is what?” Amy teased. “You know. The hair on his body.” Amy flashed her a grin. “Red.” “Appropriate,” Miss Victorine said crisply. “Why do you say that?” “You’re gazing upon the gateway to hell.” “I don’t think I looked that far,” Amy said reflectively.

you're the fly on the wall hearing all, seeing all ears of a wall hearing all the secrets perhaps you're the vines creeping over the old abandoned mansion walls dusty, soulless and dead bringing a certain curious life to rubble and I think you're the jewel-eyed gecko sneaking around the warm summer walls between jasmine and olive branches sticky pad toes, clinging to the walls peeking in at lonely summer spicy love-making through silk curtains from the bright orient breathing in incense and tasting decadence climbing the sharply barbed walls the smooth cemented white-washed walls because walls breathe too

Don't Be Afraid by Author C.A. Harms Here's a #SneakPeek! “I’m just scared.” “Of what?” Willow moved around the counter and stepped up to my side. “Forgetting him.” My vision blurred with tears. “Sometimes I wake up and I can still see him so clearly. I can imagine the way his eyes wrinkled when he grinned. Or I can hear his laughter when I’d go on one of my rambles and he was unable to hold it back.” My heart ached with each confession. “When I walk into a room, I swear I can sometimes still smell him, like he’s there waiting for me. I’ve even looked around like I’d actually find him watching television or pouring a cup of coffee.

We stayed in the shadows, edging along the building. Both of us knew better than to talk too much as Guards and Sentinels had uncanny hearing abilities when it came to rooting out students sneaking around. At the edge of the girls’ dorm, I peeked around the corner. It was hard to make out much of anything in the darkness. I wondered how the Guards could even see a daimon creeping up on them. Caleb stopped beside me, giving me a hand motion I couldn’t decipher. He looked like a crossing guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I whispered, dumbfounded. He grinned. “I don’t know. It just seemed like the right moment to do it.” I rolled my eyes, but smiled. “Ready?” “Yeppers.

She pictures herself in early 1939, aged nine, standing in front of the astronomical clock in Prague’s Old Town Hall square. She’s sneaking a peek at the old skeleton. It keeps watch over the rooftops of the city with huge empty eye sockets. They’d told them at school that the clock was a piece of mechanical ingenuity, invented by Maestro Hanuš more than five hundred years ago. But Dita’s grandmothers told her a darker story. The king ordered Hanuš to construct a clock with figures, automatons that paraded on the stroke of every hour. When it was completed, the king ordered his bailiffs to blind the clockmaker so that he could never make another wonder like it. But the clockmaker took revenge, putting his hand into the mechanism to disable it. The cogs shredded his hand, the mechanism jammed, and the clock was broken, unfixable for years. Sometimes Dita had nightmares about that amputated hand snaking its way around the serrated wheels of the mechanism. Dita,

Once unbound from the shackles of truth, Fox’s power came from what it decided to cover—its chosen narratives—and what it decided to ignore. Trump’s immature, erratic, and immoral behavior? His sucking up to Putin? His mingling of presidential business and personal profit? Fox talk shows played dumb and targeted the “deep state” instead. Conservative media types were like spiders, spinning webs and trying to catch prey. They insisted the real story was an Obama-led plot against Trump to stop him from winning the election. One night Hannity irrationally exclaimed, “This makes Watergate look like stealing a Snickers bar from a drugstore!” Another night he upped the hysteria, insisting this scandal “will make Watergate look like a parking ticket.” The following night he screeched, “This is Watergate times a thousand.” He strung viewers along, invoking mysterious “sources” who were “telling us” that “this is just the tip of the iceberg.” There was always another “iceberg” ahead, always another twist coming, always another Democrat villain to attack after the commercial break. Hannity and Trump were so aligned that, on one weird night in 2018, Hannity had to deny that he was giving Trump a sneak peek at his monologues after the president tweeted out, twelve minutes before air, “Big show tonight on @SeanHannity! 9: 00 P.M. on @FoxNews.” Political reporters fumbled for their remotes and flipped over to Fox en masse. Hannity raved about the “Mueller crime family” and said the Russia investigation was “corrupt” and promoted a guest who said Mueller “surrounded himself with literally a bunch of legal terrorists,” whatever that meant. Some reporters who did not watch Fox regularly were shocked at how unhinged and extreme the content was. But this was just an ordinary night in the pro-Trump alternative universe. Night after night, Hannity said the Mueller probe needed to be stopped immediately, for the good of the country. Trump’s attempts at obstruction flowed directly from his “Executive Time.

What does he have planned?” “He said it was a surprise, but apparently it includes all my favorites things about the city.” “That’s cute. Maybe it’ll be the refresher you guys need. It’s hard being apart for so long, especially when there is a super-hot ex-boyfriend living next to you.” I give her a pointed look. “And speak of the devil. Look whose truck just pulled into the driveway.” Amanda puts her drink on the coffee table and crawls on top of me, her knees digging into my stomach as she tries to catch a view of Aaron. “Will you please get off me?” “I want to see what he looks like. I want to see these muscles you speak of.” Amanda reaches the window, but I yank on her body so she can’t sneak a peek. “Hey, stop that, I can’t see.” “Exactly. He’ll catch you looking, and I don’t want him thinking it’s me.” “Don’t be paranoid. He won’t think that. Now let me catch a glimpse.” Pushing down on my head, trying to climb over me, she reaches for the blinds, but I hold strong and grip her around the waist, using my legs to hold her down as well. “Stop it.” She swats at my head. “Just a little looksy.” “No, he’ll see you.” “He won’t.” “He will.” “He—” Knock, knock. We still, our heads snapping to the front door. “Is someone at the door?” Amanda whispers, one of her hands holding on to my ponytail. “That’s what a knock usually means,” I whisper back. “Is it him?” Oh hell. “I have no idea.” I hold still, trying not to move in case the person on the other side of the door can hear us. “Answer it,” Amanda scolds. “No.” “Why not?” “Because if it’s Aaron, I don’t want you anywhere near him. You’ll embarrass me, I know it.” Amanda scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She pushes off me, her hand palming my face for a brief second. “I’ll answer the door.” When she places one of her feet on the floor, I hold her in place. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not answering that door. Just be still, the person will go away.” Knock, knock. “You’re being rude,” Amanda says as she plows her elbow into my thigh, causing me to buckle over in pain. She frees herself from my grip and rushes to the door. Right before she opens it, she fluffs her hair. You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t even have to ask if it’s Aaron because that’s just my luck. Also, Amanda makes a low whistle sound when she opens the door. “Amanda?” Aaron’s voice floats into my house. “Aaron Walters, look . . . at . . . you.” I sit up just in time to see Amanda give him a very slow once-over. “You were right, Amelia, he has gotten sexier.” What? Jesus! I hop off the couch, limping ever so slightly from the dead leg Amanda gave me. “I didn’t say that.” Amanda waves her hand. “It was in the realm of that. Come in, come in. We need to catch up.” Amanda wraps her hand around Aaron’s arm and pulls him into the house. When she passes me, she winks and squeezes his arm while mouthing, “He’s huge.” I shut the door behind them and bang my head on it a few times before joining them in the living room. I knew Amanda’s visit was going to be interesting

An upbeat song played over the loudspeaker, and everyone's attention focused on the Jumbotron above the basketball court. "It's time for the Bulls' Kiss Cam. So, pucker up for your sweetie and kiss them." The camera found an older couple in their fifties. The man pulled his wife, I assumed, in for a quick peck on the lips. "Aww. That is so sweet," Trina said. She proceeded to yank poor Owen to his seat in case the spotlight landed on them. She'd do just about anything to get on television, even if it meant not kissing Owen tonight to do so. "That is so staged," I said and sneaked a quick peek at my phone, seeing if he messaged me back. He didn’t. "Really?" she countered and slapped my arm. Once I glanced her way, she pointed towards the large screen looming above. On the screen was Sebastian and me as the camera had just so happened to find us. It stayed there zooming closer. And closer. And closer. "Come on," the announcer called out, prodding us. "Just one kiss won't hurt." He had no idea what he was asking. A kiss would initiate feelings I couldn't avoid any longer. I momentarily forgot how to breathe as the song, “Kiss the Girl” from the Little Mermaid hummed at my lips. Not the best choice, but still. Everything became much worse once my giant moved into view, smiling my favorite smile. Sebastian inched closer; eyebrow cocked to dare me."No pressure or anything." I was quiet for a moment before whispering, "Game on, buddy." My eyes closed a few heartbeats shy of Sebastian's lips meeting mine. His hands rose, cupping my cheeks to keep me from pulling away. Like that was going to happen. Sebastian’s mouth moved against mine, and I conceded, kissing him in return. He tasted sweet and minty, like the home I’d been missing. The kiss turned from soft and tame to fierce and wantingas if neither of us could get enough. And already, I considered myself a goner. Everything became a haze. My heart thumped so wildly against my chest, I swore Sebastian could hear. The crowd surrounding us was whistling and cheering us on, and it only kept gaining momentum as the moments passed. The noise quickly faded until it was as if we were the only two people in the room. We could have been the only two people on earth. "Okay, guys." Trina tapped my shoulder, garnering my attention. "Camera has moved on now." That was our cue to separate, and I slowly drew away from Sebastian. He, in turn, slipped his hand to the back of my neck, holding me here. "Don't," he sighed against my lips. I didn't budge another inch. I didn't want to. Sebastian rewarded me by deepening the kiss. Dear God. There were sparks. My stomach flipped. My toes curled. My body warmed. Every single inch of me only wanted one thing and one thing only. If this continued for too much longer, it was easy to guess my new favorite hobby: Kissing Sebastian Freaking Birch. Needing some air, I pressed my palm flat against his chest. This time he released me as we both were breathless. Sebastian's eyes carefully studied me. He kept staring as if he could read my heart, my mind. And for those brief few seconds, I honestly didn't believe there were any secrets between us. His gaze shifted as he gauged what to do next, and I had no freaking idea where we went from here. We'd done it now. We crossed that line, and there was no way of ever going back.

Claire started to unbutton her blouse and looked over her shoulder at Sam, who tried to discreetly sneak a peek at her. She reached down to the bed and picked up the nightshirt the hotel staff provided, per Lacy's request, an extra-large white cotton T-shirt sporting the hotel's name and logo in classy gray lettering. They also provided a pair of gray cotton boxers for Sam. He picked them up. "Not bad. They really thought of everything, huh?" "Yes, it was very thoughtful of Lacy. We won't have to sleep in our clothes," Claire agreed on her way to the bathroom to change. "Or in the buff, which wouldn't be such a bad thing," Sam said in a low voice. "I heard that, Sam," Claire yelled from the bathroom. "Wouldn't be such a bad thing." Sam called back. "That remains to be seen." She giggled. "Yeah, well you can't blame a guy for trying.

Sneak Peek: Dirty Like Seth

I’m unique like an antique, take a sneak peek. A freak mystique with no weak link in my technique. Hey, piqued critique? You’ve got a squeak in your sneak sending you up creek with no paddle (so to speak). It’s looking kind of bleak. Go bridle that long beak before the tip of its peak makes your showboat leak.

Yeah, well, I--” He stops and his eyes shift behind me, wide in amusement. I turn my head to find a couple straight out of the 1980s at the end of the gelato line. They’re both sporting mullets and faded jeans. White sneakers. When I notice the matching red fanny packs, I have to look away. “You should take a picture of that,” he says, resting his forearms on the table. “What?” I lean in closer and speak just above a whisper. “No way.” “Do it!” he insists. “Five euros.” He digs into his pocket and clanks down five coins. I sneak a peek at the unsuspecting couple. The man is wiping sweat off his face with a hanky. They’re too close. I’d never get away with it. “I can’t,” I say. “Pansy.” With a grunt, I switch my camera on and set it to automatic. I raise it to my face and start to twist my upper body. “No, wait!” he says. “You’re doing it wrong.” I drop the camera to my lap and face him. “What?” “You’re too obvious. You need stealth. Watch and learn.” He retrieves a small point-and-shoot camera from his pocket and aims it toward me. “Say cheese!” he says so loudly that I’m sure everyone around us is looking. “Uh…cheese?” “Done.” He hits a few buttons and shows me the display screen. There they are. Looked right at him too. Clever. But I can’t let him win. “Wow. That’s pretty pixelated. What kind of setting do you have that on?” He frowns. “It’s just zoomed in.” “Oh.” I reach to zoom out, but he pulls it away too fast. “What? Why can’t I see? Did you actually take a picture of me or something?” “Stealth.” He shrugs and my cheeks turn pink. “Guess these are my winnings.” The coins scrape across the table as he scoops them up to put in his pocket. “You didn’t even give me a chance to redeem myself,” I defend. “Excuses, excuses. Just admit I’m the better photographer.” He laughs, standing to shoot his empty cup in the trash. “Finished?” I nod and he tosses mine too. “Braver maybe, but better? Your camera doesn’t have enough buttons.

erased every word on the document she’d begun . And then, just to be sure he wouldn’t sneak a peek after

Here are some subtler examples of taking the power frame away. As soon as you come in contact with your target, look for the first opportunity to 1. Perpetrate a small denial, or 2. Act out some type of defiance. Examples You place a folder on the conference table that is labeled “Confidential—John Smith.” When the target reaches for the file, you grab it and say, “Uh-uh, not yet. You have to wait for this.” If you deal in creative work and you brought visuals, let the target sneak a peek and then, when you see him curiously looking, turn it over, take it away, and deliver a soft reprimand that says, not until I say you’re ready.

I think you and I both know I was born for something different. Having a title has always weighed me down,” I say and sneak a peek at Pierce, who told me the same thing once. “I need to spread my wings and see what I can do with my gift. When I’m done training, I promise you, I’ll come back to Enchantasia and share my gift with this kingdom that I truly love.” Mother sobs. “I just want you to be happy.” “I already am,” I say and hug her. “This is what I want.” Mother pulls back and looks at me with tears in her eyes. She’s stopped sobbing. “Then go fly, Devinaria Nile.” That’s exactly what I prepare to do.

For the millionth time in forty-five minutes, I sneak a peek in Justin Kohl’s direction, and he’s so beautiful

It’s even better. God, if only…I could make it last forever.” He thrust more strongly, unable to restrain his movements. Sara clenched her hands and pressed her fists against his back, her body tightening exquisitely. He stared into her eyes, gritting his teeth in the effort to contain his pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him to thrust even harder. Afraid of hurting her, he tried to hold back, but she drove him with her own demanding passion, until he let the tumultuous storm overtake him. His smothered cry followed hers, and together they flowed into the swirling tide of fulfillment, bound together by flesh and spirit, in perfect accord. Afterward they lay together dreamily, letting hours drift by and pretending time had stopped. Sara draped herself over his chest, tracing his features with her fingertip. A thought occurred to her, and she lifted her head to stare at him expectantly. Derek returned her gaze, idly stroking her hair and back. “What is it, angel?” “You told me once you didn’t know how ‘happy’ feels.” “I remember.” “And now?” Derek regarded her for a long moment, then pulled her flat against him, locking her in his arms. “It’s this,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “Right here and now.” And she rested against his heart, content. Excerpt from Cold-Hearted Rake Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek at Lisa’s next historical romance, Cold-Hearted Rake, available October 2015 Chapter One Hampshire, England 1875 “The devil knows why my life should be ruined,” Devon Ravenel said grimly, “all because a cousin I never liked fell from a horse.” “Theo didn’t fall, precisely,” his younger brother Weston said. “He was thrown.” “Obviously the horse found him as insufferable as I did.” Pacing around the receiving room, Devon

Reading Table of Contents A Sneak Peek of The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Prisoner’s Dilemma A Sneak Peek of The Secret Keepers Copyright Page In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without

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But to my dismay, Ajji was not there. I sat on her bed, still sleepy. Suddenly, I spotted something large looming nearby. I looked towards the figure. It was very handsome with dark eyes, a dark nose, golden fur and a beautiful smile. I immediately liked this fellow being, but I was very upset with Ajji. How dare she bring a stranger into our house? She says she loves me so much. Then why does she need another one like me?

But even the biggest Wall Street banks were at a disadvantage when they went up against the traders at Koch Industries, British Petroleum, or Amoco. The Wall Street banks didn’t have access to inside information. Goldman Sachs didn’t own refineries or pipelines and couldn’t get a sneak peek into where markets were headed. The banks had to resort to second-rate information that was publicly available, like government reports on monthly energy supplies. It was a losing proposition. In the mid-1990s, the Wall Street banks came to Koch Industries, asking for help. “We kept getting approached by banks, who say, ‘Hey, Koch. You guys are so good at this physical stuff, we’d like to partner with you,’ ” recalled a former senior Koch executive who was heavily involved in trading operations. The banks came to Koch with the same pitch: the banks would handle “all this financial stuff,” while Koch handled the physical end of trading and shared information from its operations. If Koch executives were flattered by the attention from Wall Street, they didn’t show it for long. “We kind of got curious—or, suspicious is the better term,” the executive recalled. Rather than help the banks out, Koch set up a team to study why the banks were so interested in their business. Koch hired the outside consulting firm McKinsey & Company to study what was happening in commodities markets during the 1990s. McKinsey reported that the world of trading had grown even larger and more profitable than Koch Industries had suspected. As it happened, the futures contracts that Koch was trading had become the “plain vanilla” products in a rapidly booming market. Now there were more exotic, more opaque, and far more profitable financial products on the market. These products were called “derivatives.” That’s where the real money was.

My phone buzzes as soon as my ass hits the soft leather. Noticing that Daya has been immediately sucked into a conversation with Max, and Arch is filling up a glass of expensive bourbon, I sneak a peek at the text. UNKNOWN: Sneaking off with random men, little mouse? If I catch his hands anywhere near you, they’ll end up in your mailbox by morning.

And I hear something in the next room, and I sneak to the doorway and peek— The counter. There’s a hand lying there. A human hand. But it’s not attached to anything. This doesn’t make sense. And right next to it that’s a foot, also not attached. And other parts, too, and oh holy shit that’s the head right there on top, eyes wide-open and looking right at me and all I can do is stare back— And

During that time, “Hurry up or we’ll be late” was commonly heard, either yelled from the kitchen or hissed while we scurried into the back row at church. There was too much to do in too little time. Life was a blur. And I thought everyone lived like this. That was until I read about “hurry sickness” in The Life You’ve Always Wanted by John Ortberg. My heart was skewered when I read that one of its symptoms is a diminished capacity to love. My children could have told you I had a problem. Only it wasn’t hurry sickness, it was hurry addiction. God dealt with my addiction to overload and hurry by taking it all away in a cross-country move. He made me go cold turkey as I said good-bye to working at my job, directing the children’s ministry, coleading the women’s ministry, being on the praise team, having my small group, leading Vacation Bible Study each summer, and more. God moved us 2,100 miles away—so far that I couldn’t even sneak back to lead a women’s event. I had no job, no church, and no friends, just lots of time. Since two of the boys were in school and the youngest had just started preschool, I had plenty of time to think and pray. And while there were lots of tears, I also experienced God in a new way. Very quickly, God connected me with Proverbs 31 Ministries. I started to learn that God had a better plan for my life than I did, and that I should look to Him for direction on my daily activities. I also learned that my first line of ministry was inside my home. I wasn’t completely cured of my hurry addiction yet, so I decided I would become the Best Homemaker Ever. And then I picked up a book called No Ordinary Home by Carol Brazo. And right in the beginning of the book I read something that brought about the biggest change in my life: If there were one biblical truth I wish I could give my children and lay hold of in my own deepest parts, it would be this one thing. He created me, He loves me, He will always love me. Nothing I do will change who I am. Being versus doing. The error was finally outlined in bold. I was always worried about what I was doing. . . . God’s only concern was and is what I am being—a child of His, forgiven, justified by the work of His Son, His Heir.[2] You know when you feel like an author has peeked into your living room window and knows exactly who you are? That’s what reading this was like for me. God wired me to be highly productive, but I hadn’t undergirded that with an understanding of my true identity. So in order to feel worthwhile and valued and confident, I was driven to take on more. More accomplishments equaled more worth. But it was never enough.

He’s still there. Kay diligently avoided eye contact—not that she could even make out the stranger’s eyes by moonlight from thirty yards away. She’d assumed she’d have the beach to herself on this brisk Tuesday night in late May. Didn’t everyone else have a life? The wet sand at the water’s edge was smooth and frigid under her bare toes—her sandals dangled from her fingers. The crisp, salt-scented breeze billowed her calf-length skirt and open cotton blazer, and whipped strands of pale blonde hair across her face. She planted her feet as the next icy wave surged ashore, leaving her toes buried in sand. After two more waves, only the insteps showed. A flash of silver drew her eye down the beach. Not silver, she saw now, but a white dress shirt being balled up and tossed to the sand. The shirt belonging to the stranger she mustn’t make eye contact with because you never know. He wasn’t looking her way, so she watched him. She watched him pull off his black shoes and socks. She watched him unzip his dark slacks and step out of them. She watched him drop his briefs and kick them away. Her head snapped forward. That’s why you never make eye contact! Because you never know! Because the most normal-looking man can turn out to be some nut job who thinks nothing of stripping in front of a strange woman and—and— She sneaked a peek. And running into the ocean full-tilt.

If you’re rebelling, then you must have someone in mind for the throne. Who?” Bran pointed across the table at Shevraeth. “He seems to want to do it, and I have to say, he’d be better at it than I.” “No, he wouldn’t,” I said without thinking. Bran winced and rubbed his chin. “Mel…” “Please, my dear Lord Branaric,” the Prince murmured. “Permit the lady to speak. I am interested to hear her thoughts on the matter.” Rude as I’d been before, my response had shocked even me, and I hadn’t intended to say anything more. Now I sneaked a peek at the Marquis, who just sat with his goblet in his fingers, his expression one of mild questioning.

Completely disoriented, I look around and realize that I’m at work and that I must have fallen asleep while waiting for the Phoenix status meeting to start. I sneak a peek at my watch. 11:04 a.m.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he found Lucetta struggling to get Millie buttoned into her gown. Both ladies had barely taken any time at all to throw off their bathing attire and don dresses before they’d jumped into his buggy. When he’d voiced his amazement about how quickly they’d been able to leave Abigail’s cottage and get on their way, they’d proclaimed, somewhat indignantly, that it was not exactly the moment to primp. Caroline and her friends wouldn’t have stepped so much as a toe out of their homes unless they were coiffed to perfection. But there was something charming about barreling down the road with ladies missing stockings and shoes, although he was a little ashamed of himself for sneaking a bit of a peek when Millie had rolled stockings up her legs. It wasn’t well done of him, that peeking, but . . . he was only human after all, and . . . she had lovely legs. Although, it wasn’t well done of him, either, to be looking at any legs other than Caroline’s, not that he’d actually seen Caroline roll stockings up her legs. But since Caroline had disclosed such disturbing notions only hours before, he couldn’t help wonder why he hadn’t ended their alliance right then and there, which would have made his— “Scoot closer to Everett. I don’t have enough room to work,” Lucetta said. “I’m practically sitting on the poor man’s lap as it is,” Millie countered, although she did scoot another inch in his direction, that scooting leaving him with a strong desire to throw himself off the buggy seat because her knee was now firmly pressed against his leg. Resignation settled in as he realized there was no longer any denying the fact, whether appropriate or not, he was attracted to Millie. When he’d first touched her in the bathing machine, a shock of something sweet had coursed through him, that sweetness almost causing him to lose all good sense and . . . kiss her. That he hadn’t given in to that concerning urge was a miracle. But, instead of immediately diving back into the sea and putting as much distance between them as possible, he’d proceeded to torture himself further by teaching her to swim. Every time he’d touched her after that had been somewhat agonizing, but he hadn’t stopped, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to resist being in her company . . . to resist having an excuse to touch her. His behavior was completely irrational, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself.

Jake flattened the knife against the wall, filling the crevice. It was all he could do to smother a grin. He didn’t know which he’d enjoyed more, spending a couple hours alone with the kids or finding new ways to provoke Meridith. And to think he was getting paid. Maybe once she went back outside, the kids would come down and pretend to play a game at the kitchen bar while they talked. He could hear Meridith talking to them now, asking them about the game they’d supposedly been playing, acting all interested in their activities. If she really cared about them, she wouldn’t be ripping the kids from Summer Place just so she could go back and live happily ever after with her fiancé. And he was pretty sure that’s what she was planning. Their voices grew louder, then Jake saw them all descending the steps. Noelle led the pack, carrying her Uno cards, followed by the boys, then Meridith. Noelle winked on her way past. Little imp. The kids perched at the bar, and he heard the cards being shuffled. Dipping his knife into the mud, Jake sneaked a peek. Meridith was opening the dishwasher. Great. Ben kept turning to look at him, and Jake discreetly shook his head. Even though Meridith faced the other way, no need to be careless. “Noelle, you haven’t said anything about your uncle lately. He hasn’t e-mailed yet?” He felt three pairs of eyes on his back. He hoped Meridith was shelving something. Jake smoothed the mud and turned to gather more, an excuse to appraise the scene. Meridith’s back was turned. He gave the kids a look. “Uh, no, he hasn’t e-mailed.” “Or called or nothing,” Max added. Noelle silently nudged him, and Max gave an exaggerated shrug. What? “Well, let me know when he does. I don’t want to keep pestering you.” “Sure thing,” Noelle said, dealing the cards. Her eyes flickered toward him. “I was thinking we might go for a bike ride this evening,” Meridith said. “Maybe go up to ’Sconset or into town. You all have bikes, right?” “I forgot to tell you,” Noelle said. “I’m going to Lexi’s tonight. I’m spending the night.” “Who’s Lexi?” “A friend from church. You met her mom last week.” A glass clinked as she placed it in the cupboard. “Noelle, I’m not sure how things were . . . before . . . but you have to ask permission for things like this. I don’t even know Lexi, much less her family.” “I know them.” “Have you spent the night before?” “No, but I’ve been to her house tons of times.” He heard a dishwasher rack rolling in, another rolling out, the dishes rattling. “Why don’t we have her family over for dinner one night this week? I could get to know them, and then we’ll see about overnight plans.” “This is ridiculous. They go to our church, and her mom and my mom were friends!” Noelle cast him a look. See? she said with her eyes. Did Meridith think Eva would jeopardize her daughter’s safety? The woman was neurotic. Jake clamped his teeth together before something slipped out. “Just because they go to church doesn’t necessarily make them safe, Noelle. It wouldn’t be responsible to let you spend the night with people I don’t know. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.” “My mom would let me.” The air seemed to vibrate with tension. Jake realized his knife was still, flattened against the wall, and he reached for more mud. Noelle was glaring at Meridith, who’d turned, wielding a spatula. Was she going to blow it? To her credit, the woman drew a deep breath, holding her temper. “Maybe Lexi could stay all night with you instead.” “Well, wouldn’t that pose a problem for her family, since they don’t know you?” Despite his irritation with Meridith, Jake’s lips twitched. Score one for Noelle. “I suppose that would be up to her family.” He heard Noelle’s cards hit the table, her chair screech across the floor as she stood. “Never mind.” She cast Meridith one final glare, then exited through the back door, closing it with a hearty slam.

The contagious sound of women’s laughter filled the warm, tidy burrow.

Listen, I was wanting to ask you a couple of things. Like about your daddy. What do you know about your daddy?” She turned back to the stove again, very busy, very intent on her imaginary project. “He has a big plane,” she said without looking at him. “He’s bery important with a big plane.” “Is that so?” She nodded. “I have news for you, Rose. It turns out I’m your daddy. How about that?” She looked over her shoulder at him. She didn’t look terribly impressed. “Where’s the plane?” Sean’s hearing was exceptional, despite the roar of jet engines for the past ten years and the blasting of rock bands in the O Club on top of that. He heard a muffled giggle he recognized as Rosie’s mother. The sneak. He leaned over to peek out the bedroom door, but he didn’t see her. “At Beale Air Force Base. That’s where the plane is kept when it’s not flying. Would you like to see it sometime?” Rosie nodded so vigorously her curls bounced and her tiara slid farther to one side. “Can I go for a wide in it?” “That’s not allowed, I’m afraid. You can go inside with me while it’s parked on the ground.” “My mommy goes in the helifropter.” “You mean helicopter?” he asked. Again she bobbed enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. Helifropter.” “She mentioned that.

Star Struck Our group visited the laser light show, an attraction mixing music and beams of bright colors as they formed constellations and abstract shapes. An awe-inspiring performance, but as it ended, I noticed the stranger, eyes still focused on me. I turned away quickly. “Look--over by the door. There he is again.” I gestured for my friend to sneak a peek in the direction of the man. “Where?” She squinted, her head pointed straight at him. “I don’t see him--maybe he left.” Frustration tinged my voice. “He’s right there--hasn’t moved an inch. He’s almost smiling at me now. Please don’t try to say I’m imagining him.” Fear mounted in me. Was I being stalked? I tucked the thought away, determined to enjoy this time with my companions, to relax in the gentle warmth of the sun. As our excursion neared its end, I glanced to the left, at the wall of a building, devoid of gates or doors of any sort. The man leaned against it, looking at me. This time I stared back, determined to show a bravery I didn’t feel. Hidden in pockets, my hands trembled. A calm smile and deep compassion shone on his face as we locked eyes for what felt like minutes, but probably lasted only seconds. Then--I don’t know how to explain it--it was as though a burst of conversation swept from his mind to mine. “Everything’s going to be all right.” I felt an intense warmth head to toe, as though embraced in a spiritual hug from the inside out. “There’s work ahead.” I took a deep breath, maintaining the eye contact, listening. He continued to smile with his eyes. “I’ll be watching.” I nodded slowly, softly. I understood. And felt safe. A friend tugged on my arm, pulling me toward another monument. I turned my head back for a glimpse of the man, but he was gone. I scanned the building once more, searching for openings he could have exited through. There were none. I shook my head. I knew I’d seen him. And he’d seen me. I was certain he was real. I still felt his warmth. We headed for home, my mind filled with questions about the man, and the message I’d somehow received. Reason fought against intuition. He was just an ordinary guy. Or was he? In the months to come, I overcame my fears and visited the doctor. I underwent three cardiac catheterization operations, and a successful triple-bypass surgery. Through them all, I knew I’d be al right. Years have passed since that day. But the peace he projected has remained with me. God sent me comfort in a way I needed, in a form I could understand and trust--an ordinary-looking man. He gave me the courage and the confidence to take care of my health problems. My angel. And even though I can’t see him, I know he’s still watching. I know things are going to be all right. How can I be so sure? Because there’s still work for me to do. He told me so. -Nancy Zeider

breakfast here, with you both.” “I tried to convince her we should call first,” Benny said, grinning, “but she wouldn’t hear of it. It had to be surprise. Surprise!” she finished, and by the look she gave them, Kate had no doubt that, other than the kids and Dominic’s mother, everyone else was on to them. “No problem,” Kate said. She looked around the large room, bright and cheery and filled with everyone she’d grown to care so much about. Dominic’s arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close. “No regrets?” Kate touched her fingers to the ring that Dominic had placed on her hand last night and smiled up at him. “No regrets. They are family, after all.” Did you love this Bliss? Check out more of our fun and flirty titles here! And for exclusive sneak peeks at our upcoming books, excerpts, contests, chats with our authors and editors, and more… Be sure to like us on Facebook Join the Bliss Book Club Follow us on Twitter And follow us on Pinterest

the buzz is that the general shape of the car is dead-on.” So wrote Hot Rod editor (and my former boss) David Freiburger in the March 2003 issue. His words supported a “sneak peek” cover story on the 2005 Mustang. Looking back, we now know the prototypes shown

I snuck a peek into the backyard looking for anything that smacked of dog—a doghouse, a run with a leash, or anything that said pet. Nada. That didn’t mean the family didn’t keep the dog in the backyard at night and just close the gate, but planning on “could” or “might” does not work for me. I have to know and don’t risk my life on guesses. Control is critical, and dogs are rarely controllable. Second, the house behind Rashid’s offered access, but the privacy trellis in the backyard made that avenue look more like quicksand than a quick exit. Third, I could make a quarterback sneak and go right up the middle—kill the two guards and walk in right through the front door. Hell, with guards out front, they probably didn’t even lock the door. Of course, if either of the sentries managed to get off so much as a single shot, Rashid or a neighbor would be alerted and call for help. No go. Fourth, and what seemed like my least-bad option, I could go through the house on the right and over the wall separating it from Rashid’s. That house had at least a half-dozen people living in it.

In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act. —UNKNOWN Discover Your Next Great Read Get sneak peeks, book recommendations, and news about your favorite authors.

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Ingredients: 2 cups flour (plus extra for dusting work surface) 2 ½ teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon salt ½ cup unsalted butter, cut into small pieces with a knife or grated using a box cheese grater or food processor. Leave chilling in fridge until ready for use ½ cup granulated sugar ½ cup buttermilk 1 large egg 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract Filling: 1 cup raspberries, frozen 1 cup white chocolate chips Egg Wash: 1 egg, beaten 1 tablespoon milk or cream Sugar Topping: Turbino or raw sugar for sprinkling Directions: Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add the chilled butter and mix with your fingers. In a small bowl, add sugar, buttermilk, egg, and vanilla. Mix well. Pour liquid mixture into flour mixture and gently mix until the two are just incorporated (I like to use my hands. I rinse them in very cold water or spray them with cooking spray first. That way, the dough won’t stick to my fingers). If your dough is too dry, add more buttermilk. If too wet, add a bit more flour. Your dough will be sticky. When it’s at the desired consistency, add raspberries and chocolate chips. Some of the raspberries will color your dough pink. That’s okay. Gently fold the berries and chips into your dough. Do not overmix. The more you handle the dough, the tougher your scones. Form dough into a ball. If you have time, chill dough in bowl for 15 minutes before continuing. When ready to bake, turn dough out of bowl onto lightly floured surface. Using your floured hands or lightly floured rolling pin, shape dough into 8-inch circle and use a pizza cutter to form 8 equal-sized wedges. Using a floured spatula, transfer wedges to baking sheet. Scones should be at least 2 inches apart. Brush egg wash over scones and sprinkle with sugar. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Scones should be a light golden brown when properly baked. Let cool. Enjoy with clotted cream or fresh jam. Or both! Read on for a sneak peek of the next Secret, Book, and Scone Society mystery, THE BOOK OF CANDLELIGHT coming soon from Kensington Publishing Corp.

Most people, I was learning, were cowards, and most laws had nothing to do with justice. Justice was a private matter that you didn't expect anyone to execute for you. You did it yourself, or it didn't get done.