Friends Making You Laugh Quotes

LAW 38
Think As You Like But Behave Like Others
If you make a show of going against the times, flaunting your unconventional ideas and unorthodox ways, people will think that you only want attention and that you look down upon them. They will find a way to punish you for making them feel inferior. It is far safer to blend in and nurture the common touch. Share your originality only with tolerant friends and those who are sure to appreciate your uniqueness. ~ Robert Greene

At nearly three in the morning sleepiness weighted my body as we lay there together so still. I heard his breathing even out as we both hovered in that place between wake and sleep. And then his hand wandered lazily down my back and over my hip until he was cupping the full curve of my behind, part of me that he'd actively avoided touching all night.
Scratch that sleepy thing.
His firm hands clutched me closer and I breathed a heady gust of air at his throat. I'd been careful all night not to be too vocal about how good his touches felt. I knew each noise would act as fuel, making it even harder for him. He rolled to his back, pulling me on top of him with both hands fully on my backside now.
"Kaidan," I whispered.
Looking half-asleep, he shushed me with a hot kiss, pulling my hips to crush us together. I whimpered into his mouth.
"God, those little sounds," he said against my lips. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you - "
"Kai!" I practically leaped off him, and he sat up, eyes blazing, licking his lips. I was breathing hard. He had to be as tired as me after our long day, and it was starting to weaken us big-time. Oh, how I'd love to indulge that weakness.
I scooted farther away.
"Maybe we should try to get some sleep," I suggested, though I was feeling wide-awake now.
He stared at me with roaring passion. "I think a third shower might be necessary," he said.
A silly laugh wanted to escape me, but there was no humor ~ Wendy Higgins

It comes back to what Chief Jay Strongbow told us years ago, 'In this business you can make friends or you can make money'. And I remember lookin at Kev and X-Pac and going, I already got some friends, I'd like the money. ~ Scott Hall

I believe in the kind of love where you give the other person the last bite of cheesecake without thinking twice. Where you laugh when they're happy, and you ache when they're sad. Where you're not two halves making a whole, but two wholes making something bigger, that only the two of you can make. ~ Kimberly Kincaid

You make a movie with some people, you become friends over the process of making this movie and then ... you go your own way. ~ Sabrina Bryan

What else am I missing here? What's in this for you?" "You." Ben was honest for once, and it seemed to work, making Maddox stop mid-laugh and wiping the smart-ass expression off his face. "You're in it for me. I don't do relationships, you're right. But I do you. And I want to try this with you. ~ Annabeth Albert

You have something to say to me, Cassidy, say it. Or shut the fuck up."
"All right," Jules said. "I will." He took a deep breath. Exhaled. "Okay, see, I, well, I love you. Very, very much, and . . ." Where to go from here . . .?
Except, his plain-spoken words earned him not just a glance but Max's sudden full and complete attention. Which was a little alarming.
But it was the genuine concern in Max's eyes that truly caught Jules off-guard.
Max actually thought . . . Jules laughed his surprise. "Oh! No, not like that. I meant it, you know, in a totally platonic, non-gay way."
Jules saw comprehension and relief on Max's face. The man was tired if he was letting such basic emotions show.
"Sorry." Max even smiled. "I just . . ." He let out a burst of air. "I mean, talk about making things even more complicated . . ."
It was amazing. Max hadn't recoiled in horror at the idea. His concern had been for Jules, about potentially hurting his tender feelings. And even now, he wasn't trying to turn it all into a bad joke.
And he claimed they weren't friends.
Jules felt his throat tighten. "You can't know," he told his friend quietly, "how much I appreciate your acceptance and respect."
"My father was born in India," Max told him, "in 1930. His mother was white - American. His father was not just Indian, but lower caste. The intolerance he experienced both there and later, even in America, made him a . . . very bitter, very hard, very, ver ~ Suzanne Brockmann

You know, you grow up with the image of John Travolta being super cool - 'Saturday Night Fever,' Brian De Palma, handsome young god ... he, in reality, is a very silly man. And I mean that in a good way. He'll walk around the set talking in little weird voices, making people laugh. ~ Eric Stoltz

Call me Ram. It's what my friends all call me."

"In that case, I'm Tashi." She paused. "But that's not what my friends call me back home."

"What do they call you?"

"The Princess Taoshira, Fourth Crown Princess of the Blue Crescent Islands and dependent territories. We're very formal, you know."

Ramil smiled. "I've noticed. And I also think, Princess Taoshira of the rest of it, that you are making a joke."

Tashi nodded, her face wrinkling into an answering smile. "But you can call me Tashi. ~ Julia Golding

The key to all of that is keeping hold of humility and keeping hold of the people around you, and making sure you stay grounded with your family and friends. ~ Kimbra

Perfect. This place was perfect. I stepped into the chick pen. "Hey guys." I crouched and reached for the chicks. They swarmed away from me, making me laugh. "You little jerks. You're all fat. You're all going to be ugly in about a month, all scrawny and gray. Come here. ~ M. Pierce

Honestly, I was a good kid but I figured out pretty early that I had a gift for making people laugh. I wanted to entertain and when that happens you tend to get yourself in trouble in class. ~ Eric Ladin

Dear Mama: The reason I didn't write last Sunday was because I was out of town. My friend Pound invited me to spend Saturday and Sunday with him … His parents are very nice people and have always been exceptionally kind to me. Mrs. Pound had prepared a fine meal … After supper Pound and I went to his room where we had a long talk on subjects that I love yet have not time to study and which he is making a life work of. That is literature, and the drama and the classics, also a little philosophy. He, Pound, is a fine fellow; he is the essence of optimism and has a cast-iron faith that is something to admire. If he ever does get blue nobody knows it, so he is just the man for me. But not one person in a thousand likes him, and a great many people detest him and why? Because he is so darned full of conceits and affectation. He is really a brilliant talker and thinker but delights in making himself just exactly what he is not: a laughing boor. His friends must be all patience in order to find him out and even then you must not let him know it, for he will immediately put on some artificial mood and be really unbearable. It is too bad, for he loves to be liked, yet there is some quality in him which makes him too proud to try to please people. I am sure his only fault is an exaggeration of a trait that in itself is good and in every way admirable. He is afraid of being taken in if he trusts his really tender heart to mercies of a cruel crowd and so keeps it hidden and trusts no one ~ William Carlos Williams

As long as you are forced to be a woman first instead of a person, by default, you need to be a feminist. That's it. Men are people, women are women? Screw that. Screw that. I am sick of having words aimed to shut me up. I am sick of having to be anything other than a person first. Zounds! I enjoy being a girl, whatever that means. For me, that meant Star Wars figurines, mounds of books, skirts and flats. It meant Civil War reenacting and best girlfriends I'd give a kidney to and best guy friends I'd ruin a liver with and making messes and cleaning up some of them and still not knowing how to apply eye shadow. That's being a girl. That's being a person. It's the same damn thing. I wish Rush had just called me an idiot. I'm happy to be called an idiot! On the day when someone on the Internet calls me an idiot first and ugly second, I will set down my feminist battle flag and heave a great sigh. Then I will pick it back up and keep climbing. There are many more mountains to overcome. ~ Alexandra Petri

Depression seems to be related to fear, anger and frustration. When you're in a bad mood, even if you meet with your friends, you don't take pleasure in their company. But when you're in a good mood, even if things go wrong, you can cope with them without difficulty. This is why putting yourself in a good mood, making a point of developing a sense of loving kindness gives you greater inner strength. ~ Dalai Lama

It's normally agreed that the question "How are you?" doesn't put you on your oath to give a full or honest answer. So when asked these days, I tend to say something cryptic like, "A bit early to say." (If it's the wonderful staff at my oncology clinic who inquire, I sometimes go so far as to respond, "I seem to have cancer today.") Nobody wants to be told about the countless minor horrors and humiliations that become facts of "life" when your body turns from being a friend to being a foe: the boring switch from chronic constipation to its sudden dramatic opposite; the equally nasty double cross of feeling acute hunger while fearing even the scent of food; the absolute misery of gut–wringing nausea on an utterly empty stomach; or the pathetic discovery that hair loss extends to the disappearance of the follicles in your nostrils, and thus to the childish and irritating phenomenon of a permanently runny nose. Sorry, but you did ask... It's no fun to appreciate to the full the truth of the materialist proposition that I don't have a body, I am a body. But it's not really possible to adopt a stance of "Don't ask, don't tell," either. Like its original, this is a prescription for hypocrisy and double standards. Friends and relatives, obviously, don't really have the option of not making kind inquiries. One way of trying to put them at their ease is to be as candid as possible and not to adopt any sort of euphemism or denial. The swiftest way of doing this is to note that the thin ~ Christopher Hitchens

There's the feisty bitch I know and love. Now come on, it's time to show Jai and his prick of a dad who the head poncho is around here." She said giggling, as I slowly let her go and took a step back.
"Head poncho, don't you mean…?" I started before she cut me off.
"Shh, let's just pretend I didn't say that. Now shift it missy, it's arse whooping time. Yeehaaa." She said, making me burst out into laughter.
She was right, it was time I showed them who I am. ~ K.A. Cross

There's a choice that we have to make as people, as individuals. If you want to be great at something, there's a choice you have to make. We all can be masters at our craft, but you have to make a choice. What I mean by that is, there are inherent sacrifices that come along with that. Family time, hanging out with friends, being a great friend, being a great son, nephew, whatever the case may be. There are sacrifices that come along with making that decision. ~ Kobe Bryant

Maybe friendship can't begin until someone chooses you. But ... that doesn't mean you don't get to make a choice too. You can't do that ... unless you know who they are. And they can't choose you ... until they know who you are. ~ Miyoshi Toumori

Heaven's Door"

I'd search the world for Heaven's Door,

Over mountains and valleys, each sandy shore.

I'd find the stairway, soaring through clouds,

I'd climb each step, without making a sound.

I'd arrive at the door of glimmering gold,

I'd slip through unnoticed, not stirring a soul.

I'd gasp at its beauty, at its rivers and trees,

I'd stray from the paths, I'd hide among leaves.

I'd tiptoe unseen, under sun and sky blue,

I'd search every corner until I found you.

I'd capture a tear, catch a glimpse of your hair,

As you danced and you twirled, without any care.

You'd smile and you'd laugh, like a bird you'd be free,

I'd try not to cry, you're there without me.

I'd stay my hand from touching your face,

From calling your name, to feel your embrace.

You'd open your mouth and your voice would be pure,

I'd treasure the sound, no more pain you'd endure.

I'd stay 'til the sunset, when I'd have to leave,

A pain in my heart, my spirit in grief.

I'd blow you a kiss, let it drift to the sky,

I'd whisper 'I love you' and bid you goodbye.

I'd pass through the door, I'd descend out of view,

Knowing that one day, some day, I'd again be with you.

- Elsie ~ Tillie Cole

There are three basic-types of communications, between people of equal status: Abrasion: I clash with you, you clash with me: process continues till we're both exhausted. Parasitic: I complain, you build me up: process continues till I suck all your energy out. Symbiotic: I build-you-up or make you laugh, you build-me-up or make me laugh: process can continue indefinitely, giving us both more energy, making us both feel better, than when the exchange started. Do not be abrasive or parasitic, nor allow others, to be that way with you. Seek: symbiotic exchanges; symbiotic people, and, be mindful of your every word. ~ Richard Skeet

Change Your Inaccurate Expectations

Many social fears are caused by inaccurate expectations and "catastrophizing." One way to determine your expectations is to figure out exactly what you fear. For instance, if you are going to a friend's birthday party and you feel overly anxious, ask yourself "Why am I afraid?" "Because I am going to a party" isn't a good answer, because the party itself does not lead to anxiety. You need to determine what you expect will happen at the party to determine what is making you nervous. You might find that you believe no one will talk to you or that your friend will hate your gift. Once you identify concrete fears and expectations, you can work to change your maladaptive thinking patterns. ~ Heather Moehn

What's wrong with you?' he sounded desperate to understand. 'I take you to a zoo of psychos and you're trying to make friends like some kind of bobita? You're going to get yourself killed one day, Reina.'

I was quiet, but I knew he was wrong, and that it was just the opposite. Making friends with danger is the only way to survive. ~ Patricia Engel

With friends, if you keep making an effort to reach out and you keep getting hurt, you eventually stop trying. But it's much harder to give up on family. Somewhere deep down you want it to work so badly that you keep making the same mistake over and over again. ~ Tori Spelling

We do take pleasure in one thing that you probably won't be able to guess. Namely, making friends with nature ... nature is always there at hand to wrap us up, gently: glowing, swaying, bubbling, rustling.
Just by looking at nature, I feel as if I'm being swallowed up into it, and in that moment I get the sensation that my body's now a speck, a speck from long before I was born, a speck that is melting into nature herself. This sensation is so amazing that I forget that I'm a human being, and one with special needs to boot.
Nature calms me down when I'm furious, and laughs with me when I'm happy. You might think that it's not possible that nature could be a friend, not really. But human beings are part of the animal kingdom too, and perhaps us people with autism still have some left-over awareness of this, buried somewhere deep down. I'll always cherish that part of me that thinks of nature as a friend. ~ Naoki Higashida

If you're going to make a comedy and if your sole interest is in making people laugh and feel good and entertaining them, then you check your ego at the door. ~ Dwayne Johnson

I could win you a goldfish."
"I don't think that's be fair to the goldfish," Gemma said. "I've had about a dozen of them, and they all seem to die within days of me getting them."
"Oh, yeah." Alex smiled crookedly. "I remember you making your dad bury them out in the backyard."
"They were my pets, and they deserved a proper burial."
"I better be careful around you." Alex stepped back from her cautiously, giving her a wide berth. "You're a goldfish mass murderer. I don't know what you're capable of."
"Stop!" Gemma laughed. "I didn't kill them on purpose! I was little. I think I overfed them. Out of love, though."
"That's even scarier," he teased. "Do you plan to kill me with kindness?"
"Maybe." She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to look menacing, making him laugh. ~ Amanda Hocking

I told them that was the dulcet roar of a Rampion's engines," said Kai, "but they all insisted it was just another media hover flying over." His hands were tucked into his pickets and he was dressed more casually than Cinder was used to seeing him - a cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and dark denim jeans. She had never imagined that farm life might suit him, but he looked as comfortable here as he did anywhere.
Cinder crossed her arms over her chest. "You're an expert on the sound levels of spaceships now, are you?"
"Nah," said Kai. "I've just been waiting to hear that sound all day."
She smiled at him, feeling the hummingbird flutter of her own pulse. He smiled back.
"Aces," said Thorne with a low groan. "They haven't even kissed yet and they're already making me nauseous."
His comment was followed by a pained grunt, but Cinder didn't know which of her friends had smacked him. ~ Marissa Meyer

Oh, all right," she said balefully, beginning to shake all over. "I'll admit it - I want you. There, are you satisfied? I want you."

"In what capacity? Lover, or husband?"

Annabelle stared at him in shock. "What?" His arms slid around her, holding her quivering frame securely against his. He said nothing, only watched her intently as she tried to grasp the implications of the question.

"But you're not the marrying kind," she managed to say weakly. He touched her ear, his fingertip tracing the fragile outer curve. "I've discovered that I am when it comes to you." The subtle caress set fire to her blood, making it difficult to think.

"We would probably kill each other within the first month." "Probably," Hunt conceded, his smiling mouth brushing over her temple. The warmth of his lips sent a rush of dizzying pleasure through her.

"But marry me anyway, Annabelle. As I see things, it would solve most of your problems …and more than a few of mine." His big hand slid gently down her spine, calming her tremors.

"Let me spoil you," he whispered. "Let me take care of you. You've never had anyone to lean on, have you? I've got strong shoulders, Annabelle." A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "And I may possibly be the only man of your acquaintance who'll be able to afford you. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy

There are almost no pure cognitive or behavioral therapists. Instead, most therapists use a combination of both techniques. This is known as cognitive-behavioral therapy. It is generally recognized as the best therapy for social anxiety.
In cognitive-behavioral therapy, a therapist helps you identity maladaptive thinking patterns and replace them with new ways of thinking. He or she also teaches you relaxation techniques and new behaviors that make you feel more comfortable in social situations.
Cognitive-behavioral therapy uses many of the same techniques that we explored in the previous chapter. Although you might make great strides on your own, sometimes it is easier and faster to have someone guide you. Often it is difficult for people to explore hidden beliefs about themselves. A professional therapist is experienced in working with people who are trying to change. Often a therapist will see connections in your situation that you cannot.

Carlos was terrified of speaking in class. Whenever the teacher called on him, his heart raced, he blushed, and his stomach felt upset.
His therapist first had him focus on his thoughts during class. As an experiment, she had him purposely answer a question incorrectly during biology class. To his surprise, the teacher didn't make a big deal out of it, and the other students didn't laugh. As a result, Carlos realized that his imagined consequences for making errors were gr ~ Heather Moehn

You may think novelists always have fixed plans to which they work, so that the future predicted by Chapter One is always inexorably the actuality of Chapter Thirteen. But novelists write for countless different reasons: for money, for fame, for reviewers, for parents, for friends, for loved ones; for vanity, for pride, for curiosity, for amusement: as skilled furniture makers enjoy making furniture, as drunkards like drinking, as judges like judging, as Sicilians like emptying a shotgun into an enemy's back. I could fill a book with reasons, and they would all be true, though not true of all. Only one same reason is shared by all of us: we wish to create worlds as real as, but other than the world that is. Or was. This is why we cannot plan. We know a world is an organism, not a machine. ~ John Fowles

What are you doing?" Percy asked.
"Sending a message," Annabeth said. "I just hope Rachel gets it."
"Rachel?" Percy asked. "You mean our Rachel? Oracle of Delphi Rachel?"
"That's the one." Annabeth suppressed a smile. Whenever she brought up Rachel's name, Percy got nervous. At one point, Rachel had been interested in dating Percy. That was ancient history. Rachel and Annabeth were good friends now. But Annabeth didn't mind making Percy a little uneasy. You had to keep your boyfriend on his toes. ~ Rick Riordan

Josh and Rashmi are making out-I can actually see tongue-so I turn to my bread and grapes.How biblical of me.
The grapes are smaller than I'm used to, and the skin is slightly textured. Is that dirt? I dip my napkin in water and dab at the tiny purple globes. It helps, but they're still sort of rough. Hmm. St. Clair and Meredith stop talking. I glance up to find them staring at me in matching bemusement. "What?"
"Nothing," he says. "Continue your grape bath."
"They were dirty."
"Have you tried one?" she asks.
"No,they've still got these little mud flecks." I hold one up to show them. St. Clair plucks it from my fingers and pops it into his mouth.I'm hypnotized by his lips, his throat, as he swallows.
I hesitate. Would I rather have clean food or his good opinion?
He picks up another and smiles. "Open up."
I open up.
The grape brushes my lower lip as he slides it in. It explodes in my mouth, and I'm so startled by the juice that I nearly spit it out. The flavor is intense, more like grape candy than actual fruit. To say I've tasted nothing like it before is an understatement. Meredith and St. Clair laugh. "Wait until you try them as wine," she says.
St. Clair twirls a forkful of pasta. "So. How was French class?"
The abrupt subject change makes me shudder. "Professeur Gillet is scary. She's all frown lines." I tear off a piece of baguette. The crust crackles, and the inside is light and springy. Oh,man. I shove another hun ~ Stephanie Perkins

(Brett) "Making friends?"
She jerked, then her spine straightened into posture nuns would be proud of and she turned her head. "He's hard to resist, really." Another belly rub. "You're late."
He crouched down to sit on his heels, and his knees spanned to either side of her arms. Reaching around, he scratched Beans behind the ears. Brett was positive the dog actually sighed with happiness. "I've been here, just didn't think to look for you on the floor. ~ Jeanette Murray

I'm not a person who does well with idle time."
"Seriously? I never would have guessed."
His teasing didn't bother her, especially when she looked at her ring again. Smaller diamonds surrounded the impressive princess-cut stone, making it glint brightly in the sunlight. "It is so perfect."
"If it's not, we can exchange it - "
She snatched the ring up close to her chest. "Never."
Trace gave a slow, sexy grin. "So, Priscilla Patterson, since you approve of my job, my home, my friends and my ring, will you try another new experience - and marry me?"
Joy bubbled up, but she didn't want to shout just yet. "When you go off to - " She glanced at Matt " - work, will you at least tell me what's going on?"
"Yes. As much as I can."
"Will you be honest about the danger involved?"
"I'll be honest with you about everything."
"Okay." She peeked at him, and winced in dread. "Did you want a big wedding?"
Trace frowned at the continued line of questioning. "I want whatever you want."
That almost made her cry, too. "Another first," she whispered, because before now, what she wanted hadn't really mattered. She kept smoothing her hands over his chest, as always drawn by his physique. "You should enter a wet T-shirt contest. You'd win."
Chris snorted, but Matt agreed. ~ Lori Foster

When you make a mistake with metal, you can melt things down and start afresh. It is irritating, and it costs in time and soot and sweat, but it can be done. There is a comfort in iron, knowing that a fresh start is always possible.

But a city is not a sword. It is a living thing, and living things defy simple fixing. Roots cannot be reforged. They scar, and broken branches must be cut and sealed with tar, and this makes me angry, as it always has, and my anger has no place to go.

It was easier when I was young. I could use my anger like a hammer against the world. I was so sure of myself and my friends and my rightness. I would hammer at the world, and breaking felt like making to me, and I was good at it. And while I was not wrong, neither was I entirely right.

Nothing is simple. I do not work in wood. I am not brave enough for that. There is a comfort in iron, a promise of safety, a second chance if mistakes are made. But a city is more a forest than a sword. No, it needs more tending than that. Perhaps a city is like a garden, then.

So these days, it seems I have become a gardener. I dig foundations in the earth. I sow rows of houses. I plan and plant. I watch the skies for rain and ruin. I cannot help but think that you would be better at this, but circumstance has put both of us in our own odd place. You are forced to be a hammer in the world, and my ungentle hands are learning how to tend a plot of land.

We must d ~ Patrick Rothfuss

...love is always infidelity, isn't it? Always a betrayal of someone or something. Even with your first girl, when you're seventeen and living at home, you're still cheating. Cheating on your parents. Pretending to be a child with them and a man with her. Having to hide the smile on your face and the scent of her on your body. And all that hiding making it so much more precious, so much more exciting. And you're cheating on your friends too. Pretending you're still one of the gang, when all you are is her lover and you could care less about any of them. And it doesn't matter how old you are, or how free you are, you still cheat. A single man with a job in love with a single girl, he's still unfaithful. He's cheating every time he drives to work and pretends to go through the old routine, while in his mind he's really with her, rushing to her, flowing all over her. Just walking down the street, pretending to be a regular human being, he's betraying all the other human beings around him. Because he's nothing like them. He's not walking next to them at all. He's not even there. He's with her. ~ Phoef Sutton

It was a relief to see his father, who'd always been an unfailing source of reassurance and comfort. They clasped hands in a firm shake, and used their free arms to pull close for a moment. Such demonstrations of affection weren't common among fathers and sons of their rank, but then, they'd never been a conventional family.
After a few hearty thumps on the back, Sebastian drew back and glanced over him with the attentive concern that hearkened to Gabriel's earliest memories. Not missing the traces of weariness on his face, his father lightly tousled his hair the way he had when he was a boy. "You haven't been sleeping."
"I went carousing with friends for most of last night," Gabriel admitted. "It ended when we were all too drunk to see a hole through a ladder."
Sebastian grinned and removed his coat, tossing the exquisitely tailored garment to a nearby chair. "Reveling in the waning days of bachelorhood, are we?"
"It would be more accurate to say I'm thrashing like a drowning rat."
"Same thing." Sebastian unfastened his cuffs and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. An active life at Heron's Point, the family estate in Sussex, had kept him as fit and limber as a man half his age. Frequent exposure to the sunlight had gilded his hair and darkened his complexion, making his pale blue eyes startling in their brightness.
While other men of his generation had become staid and settled, the duke was more vigorous than ever, in part because his youngest s ~ Lisa Kleypas

If you haven't got a sense of humor you're making your life a hundred times harder. It doesn't matter what happens to you, if you can have a laugh about it, and don't take yourself so serious, you have the battles halfway won. ~ Jack Bruce

Wyatt should've looked ridiculous sitting on the floor, leaning into the crate making
kissykiss noises at the cat, but he didn't. He looked … mouthwatering. "Hey, sweet thing," he said in a low cajoling voice. "Come on out. I'll gonna love you up, I promise. You know you want some of that."

"Oh, please," Emily said on a laugh to cover up the fact that her bones melted at the
sound of him. "That's never going to work - "

But hell if the cat didn't shift ever so slightly closer to Wyatt and sniff at him.
Wyatt flashed both Sweetie and Emily a smile. "Aw, that's it," he crooned to the
suspicious, wary cat. "Come on, baby girl, all the way. I'll be good to you, I promise."

Emily laughed again, even as she felt her nipples tighten. She crossed her arms over her
chest. "Honestly, Wyatt, no selfrespecting female – cat or woman – is going to - ~ Jill Shalvis

You can always make enemies of your friends,' said Sumael. 'Making friends of your enemies is harder labor. ~ Joe Abercrombie

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