Meghan Quinn Quotes

Soon, droves of children start to show up, keeping us rather busy. We start tallying up the number of Trolls, Batmans, Lego men, and princesses we see. The most popular costume? Batman and Superwoman with the fabrics and accessories varying from child to child. But my favorite so far is the girl who dressed as Little Debbie, but then again, I may be biased.

"I think she might be my new favorite," Emma says as a little girl dressed as a nurse walks away.

"That's because you're a nurse, but you can't play favorites," I say, reminding Emma of the rules.

She levels with me. "This coming from the guy whose favorite child was dressed as Little Debbie."

"Come on." I lean back in my chair and motion to my head. "She had the rim of blue on her hat. That's attention to detail."

"And good fucking parenting," Tucker chimes in, and we clink our beer bottles together.

Amelia chuckles next to me as Emma shakes her head. "Ridiculous. What about you, Amelia? What costume has been your favorite so far?"

"Hmm, it's been a tough competition. There has been some real winning costumes and some absolute piss-poor ones." She shakes her head. "Just because you put a scarf around your neck and call yourself Jack Frost doesn't mean you dressed up."

"Ugh, that costume was dumb."

"It shouldn't be referred to as a costume, but that's beside the point." I like how much Amelia is getting into this little prete

I'm a pleaser, Melony. I'm a woo-er. I'm a romantic who knows how to fuck you senseless.

Oh, yeah, you like that banana? Are you going to turn into banana pudding soon? You going to lose your peel?

What's flowing between us is toxic. We can't get enough of it, but it will slowly kill us.

Rosie, you're making my fucking dreams come true right now.

She's incredibly intelligent, very book smart, but give her a drink and she becomes the hot mess express, selling tickets for everyone to see.

Isn't that how all romantics are, give love a chance? That was the sole basis of every romance novel out there; give love a chance.

I had a chance to lay it all out on the table, and I didn't. But that's the problem with shame. Shame doesn't like company. Shame's not something that likes to be shared.

I love what you've done with your hair. No doubt the whole bullseye on top of your head is fun for birds when you're outside.

You're living through your characters when you need to be living in real life.

After that, we don't talk, instead we get hammered. Shot after shot we down, chasing each one with a Little Debbie snack. Before we know it, we're hanging on to the bar counter floating around in a sugar and alcohol coma, just the way I like it.

"There's my girl," Racer shouts as he topples off his stool and onto the floor, laughing hysterically. Georgie stops in her tracks and looks over at Emma, who's standing next to her, both holding two boxes of Little Debbie snacks each.

"Emmmmmmmma," Tucker drags out, waving his glass in the air. "You brought the snacks."

"Oh, Jesus," Emma mutters as she approaches us.

I point to my mouth and say, "Feed me. Daddy needs sugar."

Racer is beside me, tangled in the pegs of his bar stool, still laughing. "Did you bring Oatmeal Pies, George? Please tell me you have the pies."

"Uh, I think you've had enough for tonight," she says, looking down at her boyfriend.

"Never!" Racer struggles to get up and finally knocks the chair over to free himself. "Fucking bitch chair, digging into me with its claws." Talking to the stool directly he says, "I'm taken, warm someone else's ass."

"He's going to propose, chair, leave him alone," Tucker announces, causing me to cringe.

"Dude, don't say it out loud." I punch Tucker in the shoulder. "Georgie is right there." All three of us turn to Georgie, who's shaking her head in humor. Hopefully.

"I'll tak

Every person needs a moment in their life of total insanity. A time where there is nothing else you can do but snap in half, wave your arms in the air, and run around like a crazy person, tongue hanging out and insanity in you eyes.

Some Disney character crawled up her ass and put her in this mood. I just hope she doesn't have to have some sort of bibbidi-bobbidi-boo to get them out. Although, a Fantasia-like

No, it's not, but when I read a book without sex, I feel like I'm missing that connection between the characters...call me a pervert, but I think sex in a book is not just about getting all hot and steamy. It's about seeing the characters form this bond that is undeniable, you know?

sometimes you have to live your life with the motto...#NoRegrets. Sometimes you have to ignore the way people perceive you and do what you feel is right.

Love is funny. It comes in all different shapes and sizes. Sometimes it's hard to find and sometimes it's sitting right in front of you, waiting to be recognized. What I learned from all the books I've read and from the book that I'm writing is that no matter what, you have to work to find love. It isn't a given and it isn't instantaneous. It's a privilege to find, and should never be taken lightly.

No," he says exasperated. "I want to be way more than friends. I want to be best friends, the kind that tell each other everything, the kind that fuck each other on the couch, in the shower, up against the wall. The kind of best friends who think of each other every minute of every day.

When we get closer, he pushes out both of the chairs across from him. He nods at them and says, "Take a seat."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Am I going to have to woo you before I get my slice?"

He smiles over the pizza that he's about to bite into. "Yeah, I do believe you're going to have to."

With zero self-respect, Amanda takes a seat and says, "That's no problem with me."

Honestly. Does she not know how to avoid showing all her cards at once?

When I take a seat, he holds out his hand. "I'm Aaron."

I take his hand and notice how rough it is. It's a working hand, one that experiences strenuous hours on the jobsite, day in, day out. "Amelia, and this is my friend, Amanda."

Aaron nods at Amanda. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is mine and just so you know, Amelia is single and definitely on the market. Want me to give you her number?"

"Amanda, what the hell are you - ?"

"I would love it," Aaron says, leaning back in his chair while sipping his drink.

Slowly turning toward him, a little stunned, I ask, "You would?"

He nods with all the confidence in the world. "I would."

"But you don't know me. I could be a shovel-wielding rabbit killer."

He leans forward, his chest flexing under his shirt with the movement. "I'll take my chances."

Now feeling a little skeptical, I fold my arms over my chest and ask, "Why do you want i

You always feel so much better about yourself when your friend gets angry with you rather than trying to solve the problem. Sometimes, you just have to bitch. "Tell

I also just love the idea of making my own love story, making two people fall in love who've been living through such different circumstanes. It's all about the find when it comes to love, the moment when you meet the one person in your life you can't possibly live without, that was what intrigued me.

Funny thing about true happiness, though. You never know it's inside you until someone pulls it out.

I've downed two shots and a tumbler of whiskey by the time Racer and Tucker show up. The House of Reardon, our go-to bar, isn't very far from where we all live, kind of in the middle, but given my race to get some alcohol into my system, I'm a few drinks in already.

"I brought reinforcements," Racer says as he tosses a box of Swiss Rolls in front of me. I can always count on Racer to bring Little Debbie snacks, our sacred lover. "Your text made it seem like you needed to suckle at Debbie's teet tonight."

"I do." I rip open the box, tear open a wrapper, and pop an entire roll in my mouth in seconds.

"I guess so," Racer says, a little astonished.

"Tucker close?"

"Right here," Tucker says, pulling up a chair next to me at the bar. He pats my shoulder and tosses a box of Zebra Cakes in front of me. My boys know me well.

"Zebra Cakes? Dude, I brought Swiss Rolls. Zebra Cakes are piss when it comes to times like this."

"It's all I had left. Emma's been eating all my Nutty Bars."

"Why even buy Zebra Cakes? You know that frosting turns into a paste."

From the corner of my eye, I see Tucker run his hand over his face. "Emma got them. When she shops, she literally doesn't consider which ones she buys; it's just a sweep of her arm over the shelf. Can't complain about that."

"I guess you can't.

It's all about the find when it comes to love, the moment when you meet the one person in your life you can't possibly live without, that was

Even though I was inexperienced with the opposite sex, I still craved the feel of a relationship, of a man's touch, of a kiss. It was an aspect of my life that I was sorely missing.

If I'd learned anything from writing this book, it was that no matter how you might read characters in a book, real life was always different. It was easy for a writer to spin a story to make the hero or heroine seem smart and intelligent, for them to make the right moves, take the correct steps toward their future, but when it came to real life, it didn't quite happen that easily. People were constantly making mistakes and showing insecurities, even when they didn't realize it, and being so imperfect that it actually made them perfect . . . because they were human. Those

Gah, I bet she secretly takes pictures of him and puts them on her inspiration board of men she wants to f*ck. I bet she calls it her f*cket list. And once she gets them to fall for her boob-flopping ways, she puts them in a scrapbook and looks through that book every night, reminiscing on the penises that once stuffed her vagina. Well, not Andrew. There is no way she's getting her reconstructed nipples on my guy.

Oh Bodi, Double Stuf Oreos are not a manly cookie. Double Stuf Oreos were specifically engineered by Nabisco for raging pregnant women and for those of us riding the red tide into Crampsville, but you're cute for thinking otherwise.

Note to self: When people say dicks come in all shapes and sizes, they are not kidding.

You can't trust a man with a curly mustache. It just screams deviant.

Giving myself a pep talk, I peeked into my pants and told my vagina that even though what was about to happen to her was construed by the devil himself, I still loved her and hopefully, such actions would bring great rewards in the future.

You have the right to be mad, but be mad with a purpose. Be mad at the right thing.