The Way He Look At Me Quotes

He leaned forward, his lips grazing her ear before he spoke. "I know you want this too. I've seen the way you look at me. ~ Donna Augustine

I feel completely embarrassed and remember the lock on the door and think: He knows, he knows, it shows, shows completely.
"He's out back," Mr. Garret tells me mildly, "unpacking shipments." Then he returns to the papers.
I feel compelled to explain myself. "I just thought I'd come by. Before babysitting. You, know, at your house. Just to say hi. So . . . I'm going to do that now. Jase's in back, then? I'll just say hi."
I'm so suave.
I can hear the ripping sound of the box cutter before I even open the rear door to find Jase with a huge stack of cardboard boxes. His back's to me and suddenly I'm as shy with him as I was with his father.
This is silly.
Brushing through my embarrassment, I walk up, put my hand on his shoulder.
He straightens up with a wide grin. "Am I glad to see you!"
"Oh, really?"
"Really. I thought you were Dad telling me I was messing up again. I've been a disaster all day. Kept knocking things over. Paint cans, our garden display. He finally sent me out here when I knocked over a ladder. I think I'm a little preoccupied."
"Maybe you should have gotten more sleep," I offer.
"No way," he says. Then we just gaze at each other for a long moment.
For some reason, I expect him to look different, the way I expected I would myself in the mirror this morning . . . I thought I would come across richer, fuller, as happy outside as I was inside, but the only thing that showed was my lips puffy from kisses. J ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick

If- if I could find a way to free you," I whispered, "would you walk the world above with me?"
My back was to the Goblin King; I could not face him. It was a long time before he answered.
"Oh, Elisabeth," he said. "I would go anywhere with you."
I turned around. His eyes deepened in color and for a moment, just for the merest glimpse, I could see what he would have been like as a mortal man. If he had been allowed to live the course of his life, from the child he had been to the man he would have become. A musician- a violinist. I ran back into the circle of alder trees, wanting the circle of his arms around me. I reached out my hands, and his fingers brushed mine, but we passed through each other like water, like a mirage. We were each nothing but a shimmering illusion, a candle flame we could not hold.
And yet, the Goblin King was still here, in the Goblin Grove, with me. He stood in the Underground while I stood in the world above, but our hearts beat within the same space.
"Don't look back," he said.
I nodded. I love you, I wanted to say. But I knew these words would break me.
"Elisabeth."
The Goblin King was smiling. Not the pointed smile of the Lord of Mischief or Der Erlkönig, but a crooked one. Twisted to one side, lopsided and goofy, it cracked my heart open and I bled inside.
He mouthed a word at me. A name. "You've always had it, Elisabeth," he said softly. "For it is you I gave my soul. ~ S. Jae-Jones

The net of it is, we can't count on any cooperation out of Sergei Yakut. He basically told me to shove it, and that was before I called him a sick fuck in need of a muzzle and choke collar."
"Jesus, Niko," Gideon sighed, probably, on the other end of the line, scrubbing his hand through his spiky blond hair in frustration. "You really said that to him - to a Gen One? You're damn lucky he didn't tear your tongue out before he sent you on your way."
Probably true, Nikolai acknowledged to himself. And he'd have lost more than just his tongue if Yakut knew the kind of lust he had been feeling for Renata. "You know I'm allergic to ass-kissing, even if the ass in question happens to be Gen One. If this was a total public relations mission, you picked the wrong guy."
"No shit." Gideon chuckled around another low curse. "You coming back in to Boston, then?"
"I see no reason to linger. Unless you figure Lucan will look the other way if I decide to go back and put a torch to Yakut's house of horrors. Put him out of business, at least for a while."
He was kidding . . . mostly. ~ Lara Adrian

After Ben leaves, I head back upstairs to my room, only to find Dad in the kitchen. He has his back toward me, sneaking a bag of Bugles from one of the baskets above the cabinets.
"Caught you," I say, switching on the light, making him jump.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
"Shouldn't you?" I give him a pointed look.
"Probably, but your mom actually feel asleep tonight - probably the first night all week. Meanwhile, I'm too hungry to nod off."
"So, where does that leave us?" I ask, eyeing his bag of Bugles.
"Can you be trusted?"
"That depends. Are you willing to share?" I smile. "Good hiding spot, by the way. Nobody ever uses those baskets."
"That's what you think." He gazes down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and then snags a bag of Hershey's Kisses from one of the other four overhead baskets.
We park ourselves at the kitchen island and rip both bags open. Five full minutes of lusty devouring pass before either of us speaks. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Why did you come back to Salt Lake?" I knew the answer before I asked the question and he knew I knew, and it was like you could see the shadow of it hanging there between us.
"I needed to see you," he finally said. "It's hard to explain."
"You don't have to."
"I tried telling my mom once what happed that day. Showed her the hole in the window screen and Moe and even after that she said it was complicated, that my dad's a complicated man and we all needed to try harder to understand him." His voice was shaking now. "And I thought, hey, maybe she's right. Maybe he was just playing around, you know. Maybe we didn't need to run."
"We did," I whispered.
"That's why I had to come, see?" He didn't move and I didn't move, but in a few seconds I heard him sniffling and he couldn't stop and I knew he was crying. "Cameron." I propped myself up, reached out my arm. "Come here." He got up and came to me, dragging his blanket behind him like a child. I scooted over in my bed to make room. "Come on."
He positioned himself beside me-I stayed under the covers, he was on top of them, his head next to mine on the pillow. I stroked his hair and thought of the week he'd lived at our house, the way we slept shoulder to shoulder in our sleeping bags in the living room and I got another good memory.
Jennifer, Cameron had said. You awake?
His voice was coming from across the room. I sat up. Yeah.
Look. He was standing by the living room window. The blinds ~ Sara Zarr

It works far better," Jane went on, apparently still intent on berating him, "when you trust those people with the truth. When you give them all the facts."
Her tone put him on the defensive. "You mean, the way you did when you told me about Nancy's disappearance?"
Jane paled. "Well…that was different."
"How so?" He approached her with a scowl. "You left out the important fact that she might be pregnant. If I'd known, we would all have left for York as soon as Tristan could join us, and we wouldn't have wasted so much time."
Her throat moved convulsively. "You can't blame me for that. I was protecting Nancy."
"And all those years ago, I was protecting you," he said fiercely. He took another step toward her. "I know you resent how I manipulated you into jilting me, but my damned brother had just torn my family apart, and I wasn't sure what lay ahead of me. I couldn't bear to watch your love for me die in the slums of London."
"So you killed it instead?" she choked out.
His heart faltered. "Did I?"
Alarm spread over her face. Then she turned, as if to flee.
He grabbed her arm to tug her up close to him. She wouldn't look at him, which only inflamed him more. "I answered your questions," he rasped. "Now answer mine."
He could feel her tremble, see uncertainty flash over her face in profile. Utter silence reigned in the room. Even the servants had apparently finished in the dining room across the hall, for no sound penetrated thei ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Hmmm. Odd. Okay." He took Nick's hand.
Nick pulled back. "Dude, don't touch me."
"Why not?"
Why not? Really? He had to explain stranger-danger and personal space? Where did this guy live that he didn't understand grabbing another dude's body parts without an invitation was a first class ticket to a major butt-whipping event.
"Look, I don't know you, and we're not dating. So keep your hands off me."
Again with the annoyed noise. "Then how can I lead you if I can't touch you when you can't see?"
"How 'bout you don't lead me anywhere?" Nick was beginning to like the darkness. Unlike Asmodeus, it was quiet and rather peaceful. And it definitely didn't give him a headache.
"But you said you couldn't see."
Nick was aghast at the way this guy's mind worked. "That doesn't mean you can touch me."
"I'm so confused. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Under the redwood tree my grave was laid, and I beguiled my true love to lie down. The stream of our kiss put a waterway around the world, where love like a refugee sailed in the last ship. My hair made a shroud, and kept the coyotes at bay while we wrote our cyphers with anatomy. The winds boomed triumph, our spines seemed overburdened, and our bones groaned like old trees, but a smile like a cobweb was fastened across the mouth of the cave of fate.

Fear will be a terrible fox at my vitals under my tunic of behaviour.
Oh, canary, sing out in the thunderstorm, prove your yellow pride. Give me a reason for courage or a way to be brave. But nothing tangible comes to rescue my besieged sanity, and I cannot decipher the code of the eucalyptus thumping on my roof.
I am unnerved by the opponents of God, and God is out of earshot. I must spin good ghosts out of my hope to oppose the hordes at my window. If those who look in see me condescend to barricade the door, they will know too much and crowd in to overcome me.
The parchment philosopher has no traffic with the night, and no conception of the price of love. With smoky circles of thought he tries to combat the fog, and with anagrams to defeat anatomy. I posture in vain with his weapons, even though I am balmed with his nicotine herbs.
Moon, moon, rise in the sky to be a reminder of comfort and the hour when I was brave. ~ Elizabeth Smart

Well, I guess that answers my question." The deep velvet voice startles me.
I jump, grab my pillow like I'm going to use it as a weapon.
Will stands in the doorway, sipping from a metallic travel mug. His gray T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest in a way that makes my throat close up.
"What question?" I ask, breathless.
"Whether you're as beautiful in the morning as you are during the rest of the day."
"Oh," I say dumbly, pushing the tangle of hair back off my shoulders, certain I don't look good right now, just rolling out of bed. Not that I take pains with my appearance on the average day, but still...who looks their best fresh out of bed? "You're here again," I murmur.
"Apparently."
"Can't stay away?"
"Apparently not."
I'm okay with that. Great, in fact.
"I made you breakfast," he adds.
"You can cook?" I'm impressed.
He grins. "I live in a bachelor household, remember? My mom died when I was a kid. I hardly remember her. I kind of had to learn to cook."
"Oh," I murmur, then sit up straighter. "Wait a minute. How'd you get in here?"
"Opened the front door." He takes another sip from his mug and looks at me like I'm in trouble. "Your mom really should lock the door when she leaves."
I arch a brow. "Would that have kept you out?"
He smiles a little. "You know me well. ~ Sophie Jordan

At that moment, the back door opened, and Great-grandfather wheeled himself outside. Slowly and carefully, Hannah stepped through the door behind him. Aunt Blythe followed, balancing a tray loaded with a pitcher of lemonade and five glasses.
"Come along, you two," Hannah called.
"Tarnation," Andrew muttered. "Am I going to have to see that jackass today?" Without letting me help, he levered himself out of the chair with his cane. "I bet Hannah woke the old coot up just to make me miserable."
When we joined the others on the porch, Great-grandfather refused to look at us. Keeping his head down, he fidgeted with the blanket on his lap.
"This is a fine way to greet me," Andrew said.
"Maybe he doesn't recognize you." Aunt Blythe bent down to peer into Great-grandfather's face. "Your cousins are here, Father. Can you say hello to Hannah and Andrew?"
"It's my house," he mumbled. "They can't have it."
Andrew looked as if he wanted to give his cousin a punch in the nose, but Hannah intervened. "We know the house is yours, Edward," she said. "Don't worry, we haven't come to take it back. Andrew and I have our own home."
Great-grandfather raised his head and stared at Hannah. "You never liked me. Neither did your brothers. I wasn't welcome in this house when you lived here. Now it's mine and you're not welcome."
Ignoring Aunt Blythe's protests, Great-grandfather wheeled himself toward the back door. "You and your Roosevelt," he muttered befo ~ Mary Downing Hahn

I guess falling in love with mermaids is pretty dangerous," he finally said.
"Did you?" Ariel asked in a small voice. "Fall for me? At all?"
Eric gave her a measured look, treating the question seriously as she had his. "I did fall for you, just not in the way I expected it would happen. And maybe not in the way you hoped. It wasn't a lightning bolt. As I got to know you, I realized you were the most... energetic, fun, enthusiastic... alive girl I had ever met." He smiled at the memory- and Ariel felt her breath catch. "You know, for a boy who's all about sailing and running around with his dog and exploring, you were just about as perfect a companion as he could ever want. And beautiful, to boot. I would have been very lucky."
He said this wistfully.
Ariel wasn't sure when she was going to start breathing again. ~ Liz Braswell

And I'll tell you another thing, Patrick Michael Thomas Cunnane, if you think you can come and go at all hours as you damn please just because you're going off to college, you'd best get that thick head of yours examined in a hurry. I'll be happy to do it myself, with the skillet I have in my hand, just as soon as I'm done with it."
"Yes,ma'am." At the table Patrick say with his shoulders hunched, wincing at this mother's back. "But since you're using it, maybe I could have some more French toast.Nobody makes it like you do."
"You won't get around me that way."
"Maybe I will."
She shot a look over her shoulder that Brian recognized as one only a mother could conjure to wither a child.
"And maybe I won't," Patrick muttered, then brightened when he saw Brian at the door. "Ma,we've got company. Have a seat,Brian. Had breakfast? My mother makes world-famous French toast."
"Witnessess won't save you," Adelia said mildly, but turned to smile at Brian. ~ Nora Roberts

Penryn? Who are you talking to?" My mother sounds almost frantic now.
"Just my own personal demon, Mom. Don't worry. He's just a little weakling."
Weak or not, we both know he could have killed me if that's what he wanted. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing I was scared, though.
"Oh." She sounds calm suddenly, as if that explained everything. "Okay. Don't underestimate them. And don't make them promises you can't keep." I can tell by her fading voice as she says this that she's reassured and walking away.
The baffled look the angel shoots at the door makes me chuckle. He glances my way, giving me a you're-weirder-than-your-mom look. ~ Susan Ee

You look like a pagan. A pagan warrior queen." He scraped his teeth along her throat. "Naked, glowing, wearing nothing but ropes of diamonds."
"I want you inside me." Breath tearing, she bit at his ear. "Hot, hard inside me."
"My hands are busy at the moment." He filled them with her breasts. "I'll need help getting out of this shirt."
She reached up, tore it open, sending buttons flying.
"Well, that's one way."
"It's how it works when you're a pagan warrior queen. Take me." She gripped his hair, yanked his mouth to hers. "I want you to take me like there's nothing you need more."
"There isn't. It's you. It's always you. ~ J.D. Robb

He gave me a long look. "Any time. If you need something, I want you to tell me. That's the only way this is going to work."
"Okay." I needed his naked body at my disposal. Now.
"I want total honesty from you, okay?"
"Total honesty." So help me, I'd ride him all the way home and back again. ~ Kylie Scott

My phone buzzed in the center console again.
"What's happening with this thing?" Dad grabbed it.
"Dad, really?" I didn't want him to see the texts between Dash and me. Awkward.
"He says he knew it."
The traffic opened up, and I went right on Sunset. "Please don't scroll."
"Knew what?"
"I have no idea, and I'm driving. So forget it for now."
"I'll ask him." - Knew what? - "Dad, really?" I snapped the phone away.
Ding ding.
I couldn't look. I was going thirty on Sunset and the lights were synchronized for a westward trip, so there would be no stopping at a red.
"Let me see," Dad said, hand out.
All I needed was for my father to see something about Dash's tongue on my pussy or the way I sounded when I came. So I pulled over. ~ C.D. Reiss

You are absolutely at the correct spot. Well done, you, for finding us!" Damien's smile was so warm that I watched the tense set of the human's shoulders relax. Then he actually held out his hand and said, "Excellent. I'm Adam Paluka, from Tulsa's Fox News 23, I'm here to interview your High Priestess and, I'm guessing, some of you as well."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Paluka. I'm Damien," Damien said, taking his hand. Then he giggled a little and added, "Oooh, strong grip!"
The reporter grinned. "I aim to please. And call me Adam. Mr. Paluka is my dad."
Damien giggled again. Adam chuckled. They made major eye contact. Stevie Rae nudged me and we shared a /look./ Adam was cute, seriously cute in a young, up-and-coming metro-sexual guy way. Dark hair, dark eyes, good teeth, really good shoes, and a man satchel, which Stevie Rae and I spotted together. Our eyes telegraphed to each other /potential boyfriend for Damien!/
"Hi there, Adam, I'm Stevie Rae." She stuck out her hand. As he took it she said, "You don't have a girlfriend, do ya?"
His straight-toothed smile faltered, but only a little. "No. I don't, um. No. I absolutely don't have a girlfriend. ~ P.C. Cast

There is a mirror across from me, and I check my reflection in it before heading home. Despite the bone-deep fatigue and the growing fear and frustration, I look ... fine. Da always said he'd teach me to play cards. Said I'd take the bank, the way things never reach my eyes. There should be something - a tell, a crease between my eyes, or a tightness in my jaw.
I'm too good at this.
Behind my reflection I see the painting of the sea, slanting as if the waves crashing on the rocks have hit with enough force to tip the picture. I turn and straighten it. The frame makes a faint rattling sound when I do. Everything in this place seems to be falling apart. ~ Victoria Schwab

One of the people in charge of props told me: "It's not my job necessarily to make things look exactly as they were in real life. But I want [the movie] to look so authentic that when you see it, you'll think it's part of your own personal history. It will be your life to hold onto."
That attention to detail--and that care and dedication--moved me, and I did everything I could to help them. Still, I didn't want to just put my memories in the mail or FedEx. To put me at ease, the studio offered to use a team of couriers so that the material would be in someone's hands each step of the way.
They sent a driver out one day. He was a big, hulking fellow who filled Chris's office the way Chris would have.
"I just have a few more things to pack up," I told him. "If you could just wait a second."
"Sure."
Bubba came in, still wearing his jammies. "Hey," he said to the guy. "You play darts?"
"Uh--"
By now Bubba was so used to people dropping by and playing with him that he didn't even need to ask who they were.
He'd also become pretty good at darts.
I wrapped up quickly, sparing the poor fellow the humiliation of losing to a kid whose voice wouldn't change for several more years. ~ Taya Kyle

Jack took me to the Christmas Dance.
It snowed the day of the dance, making the Meier Farmhouse and Dance Hall look like something out of a painting, the lights on the roof glowing under sheets of white. And when Jack led me onto the dance floor and grasped one of my hands and tugged it up behind his neck, then placed his arm around my back, soft and low, I thought life couldn't get better.
He pulled me close against him, our hands clasped next to his chest.The cedar from the farmhouse mingled with Jack's aftershave,making a sweet, rustic scent.
"Becks,remember the first time we met?" he asked,his lips grazing my ear.
Of course I remembered. The events of that day were permanently etched into my brain. "You mean,the time you nearly beheaded me with a baseball?"
"I had to do something to get the new girl's attention."
"A simple 'hello' would have worked."
He pulled me in tighter, as if that were possible. "Why did we wait so long to do this?"
"Um, because you were making your way through the entire cheerleading squad?"
He looked at me for a few moments, then shook his head and leaned in to brush his lips along my shoulder.
I closed my eyes. If this was what I could expect for the rest of my high school years,I never wanted to graduate.
Ever. ~ Brodi Ashton

How did I look at you? I asked thickly. Like you had to, like I was a magnet you were pulled to. There was no choice, he said. And when you look at Jack, it's because when he's around, why would you want to look at anything else? You love him the way you could never love me. ~ Amanda Hocking

Students of public speaking continually ask, "How can I overcome
self-consciousness and the fear that paralyzes me before an
audience?"
Did you ever notice in looking from a train window that some
horses feed near the track and never even pause to look up at the
thundering cars, while just ahead at the next railroad crossing a
farmer's wife will be nervously trying to quiet her scared horse as
the train goes by?
How would you cure a horse that is afraid of cars - graze him in a
back-woods lot where he would never see steam-engines or
automobiles, or drive or pasture him where he would frequently see
the machines?
Apply horse-sense to ridding yourself of self-consciousness and
fear: face an audience as frequently as you can, and you will soon stop shying. You can never attain
freedom from stage-fright by reading a treatise. A book may give
you excellent suggestions on how best to conduct yourself in the
water, but sooner or later you must get wet, perhaps even strangle
and be "half scared to death." There are a great many "wetless"
bathing suits worn at the seashore, but no one ever learns to swim
in them. To plunge is the only way. ~ Dale Carnegie

Look,let me give you the CliffNotes: You're a bitch in this life and Daniel doesn't care.Shocker! He courts you for a few weeks,there's some exchanging of flowers.A big kiss and then kaboom. Okay? Not much more to see."
"You don't understand."
"What? I don't understand that Victorians are as stuffy as an attic and as boring as watching wallpaper peel? Come on,if you're going to zigzag through your past,make it count. Let's hit some highlights.
Luce didn't budge. "Is there a way to make you disappear?"
"Do I have to stuff you in this Announcer like a cat in a suitcase? Let's move!"
"I need to see that he loves me, not just some idea of me because of some curse that he's bound to.I need to feel like there's something stronger keeping us together. Something real."
Bill took a seat next to Luce on the grass. Then he seemed to think better of it and actually crawled onto her lap. At first,she wanted to swat him, and the flies buzzing around his head,but when he looked up at her,his eyes appeared sincere.
"Honey,Daniel loving the real you is the last thing you should be worried about. You're freaking soul mates. You two coined the phrase. You don't have to stick around here to see that.It's in every life. ~ Lauren Kate

Because he is looking at me the way a man dying of thirst might look at a cask of water, as if his very life depends on bringing me to his lips. ~ Sherry D. Ficklin

To my knowledge, none of them has ever taken advantage of a respectable female. Even my brothers had their...dalliances as bachelors."
"So did your father."
He would point that out. "That's different. Papa broke his marriage vows. That doesn't mean my suitors would do so." She swallowed. "Unless you think it impossible for a woman like me to keep men like them satisfied and happy?"
He started. "No! I wasn't trying to say...That is-"
"It's all right, Mr. Pinter," she said, fighting to keep the hurt out of her voice. "I know what you think of me."
His gaze locked with hers, confusing her with its sudden fierceness. "You have no idea what I think of you."
She twisted her bracelet nervously, and the motion drew his eyes down to her hands. But as his gaze came back up, it slowed, lingering on her bosom.
Could Mr. Pinter...Was it possible that he...
Certainly not! Proper Pinter would never be interested in a reckless female of her stamp. Why, he didn't even like her.
She'd dressed carefully today, hoping to sway him into doing her bidding by showing that she could look and act like a lady, hoping to gain a measure of his respect.
But the intimate way his gaze continued up past her bosom to her throat, and then paused again at her mouth, was more how her brothers looked at their wives. It wasn't so much disrespectful as it was...interested.
No, she must be imagining that. He was merely trying to make her uncomfortable; she was ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Calm down. I'm a demon, Nick. Hematite doesn't like my genetics. It doesn't mean anything other than I have really bad parentage."
"Then why am I having flashes of you killing me?"
"What'd you eat this morning?"
Nick didn't care for that answer. Not one little bit. "I saw it happen. You were choking the life out of me."
Caleb rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. That is definitely a figment of your overactive, over-Hollywood-stimulated imagination. I assure you. I don't kill people that way. Takes too long. I'm not into torture. I prefer a quick death so that I can move on to something more satisfying."
Strangely enough, that he believed. Patience wasn't a virtue Caleb practiced. "You sure?"
"Dude, look at me. You think I'd have let the demons pound all over me last night so that you could escape if I had any intention of killing you? Really? ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Gwen was kind of amazed. A mother with several degrees and a prestigious position at an Ivy League college did not ensure that she'd be any less embarrassing to her child than a mother who became a nurse through night school. Gwen knew this when Alla launched into her "unfortunate changes in my vagina after the birth of Lachlan" discussion.

"No. It was his shoulders. He's always had very large shoulders. I mean look at him. Even as a baby they were freakishly long."

"Freakishly?" Lock snapped.

"They stretched me right out."

"Mom!"

Brody shrugged and reached for more moo goo gai pork. "I didn't mind."

"Dad!"

"Well, darling, you were always quite large, so it made things a little easier for both of us when it came to sex."

"Mom!"

Alla shook her head. "I don't know what happened to you, Lachlan MacRyrie." She turned to Gwen. "I've always insisted on being quite open about human bodies when talking to my children. There's no shame in a woman's body. And like everything else in the world, it ages. So while you still have the exquisite body you've been blessed with, Gwen dear, and that prebirth vagina - enjoy it."

"Is there any way to get you to stop?" Lock begged. ~ Shelly Laurenston

I wish I knew your body was this warm before. I would have cuddled up with you every night." She stiffened suddenly, as if realizing what she'd just said. "Um, that didn't quite come out the way I intended it. I just meant..."
"Forget about it," he said softly. "I know what you meant. It's completely understandable that you'd want to cuddle up with me. I'm pretty irresistible."
Danica laughed, relaxing against him again. "Yeah, right. You're just a big, strong guy with a soft, gooey center."
His mouth twitched. "Exactly."
"Then tell me something. If you're so soft and gooey, why is there something hard poking me in the butt?"
It would have been Clayne's turn to stiffen, but he wasn't sure he could get any harder without exploding. But hell, it'd been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy. Check that. He'd never been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy--ever.
"Um...sorry."
He was so embarrassed he could barely get the word out. He would have backed away some, but Danica still had a firm grip on his arm and didn't seem inclined to let him go.
"Forget about it." She tilted her head to look at him, her dark eyes hidden beneath her lashes. "It's completely understandable that cuddling up with me would do that to you. I'm pretty irresistible. ~ Paige Tyler

Did you know it's possible to crawl all the way from Logan's dad's office to the press room using the air-ducts?"
"No." Charlie shook his head. "It's not."
"Sure it is," Maddie told him. "Logan bet me five dollars that I couldn't do it, so I did it, and then he gave me five ones instead of one five because Lincoln is his favorite."
"You can reach the Oval Office via the air ducts?" Charlie asked, spinning to look at her.
"Yes. But I ruined my favorite pink leggings."
"Then you should definitely tell your dad that."
"He doesn't care about my leggings," Maddie said, and Charlie shook his head.
"Not about that. About ... Never mind, Mad. I'll tell him. ~ Ally Carter

He doesn't move.

Please, I beg him inwardly.

Please go up to bed.

It's hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak. I can't be close to him right now. I'm afraid I'll give in and kiss him again. The way his hard body had aligned so perfectly with mine is burned in my consciousness. I'll be trying not to remember that for weeks.

I wait, and I ache.

Finally the door clicks open. I hear him exit the car. When the door slams shut, I feel it like a sledgehammer to the heart.

Don't look, I coach myself.

But my self-control isn't infinite. His fair hair glints under the streetlight as his long legs eat up the walkway in just a few paces. Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me. ~ Sarina Bowen

Sometimes when we were hiding behind the breakers with the crowd, he'd hold me so tight, I'd think he's not just holding me, he's holding onto me, like I'm stopping him from falling off. I'd see him looking at me and his eyes were so full of ... I dunno. Like he was about to cry. And, it's stupid, I know, but I think maybe he's hurting because he loves me and I don't love him, and this great lump used to come up into my throat and I'd hold him tight and try and squeeze him as tight as I could and try as hard as I could to fall in love with him the way he loved me.
And then other times I'd think, it's just the way his face is that makes him look like that. ~ Melvin Burgess

I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I'm a disciple of His. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still.
My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I'm finished and down with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, cheap living, and dwarfed goals.
I no longer need prominence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.
My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.
I won't give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, and preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He will have no problem ~ Avery T. Willis Jr.

I can barely get a guy in my own town to realize I'm alive. Well that's not true, he knows I'm alive. He just doesn't t look at me the way I want him to. Like, well like the way Grant is looking at me right now. His eyes all gentle and questioning, his lips slightly parted. ~ Brynna Gabrielson

You can't be in here." Ian stated it as a fact.
Sam sank back onto the bed. He was definitely growing stronger, but standing could be troublesome on shaky legs. The pain of his wound had definitely receded. "Why not?" he asked a little belligerently.
"She can't; it's impossible. I was standing guard at her door." Ian's gaze met Azami's. "To protect you of course."
"Of course, because there are so many enemies creeping around your halls," Azami said, her voice soft and pleasant, a musical quality lending innocence and sweetness.
Ian's frown deepened as if he was puzzled. She certainly couldn't have meant that the way it came out, anyone listening would be certain of it. "Just what are you two doing in here anyway?" he asked, suspicion lending his tone a dark melodrama. He even wiggled his eyebrows like a villain.
Sam kept a straight face with difficulty. Ian was a large man with red hair and freckles. He didn't look in the least bit mean or threatening, even when he tried.
"Azami was just telling me how when she left her room to inquire after my health, there was a giant man with carroty hair snoring in the hallway beside her door."
"There was no way to get past me," Ian insisted.
Sam grinned at him. "Are you saying you did fall asleep on the job, then?"
"Hell no." Ian scowled at him. "I was wide awake and she didn't slap past me."
"You say," Sam pointed out, his tone mocking as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned ba ~ Christine Feehan

Am I to assume the Valerie I was introduced to earlier was the Valerie of our greenhouse notes?" He realized his mistake the instant her eyes clouded over and she glanced in the direction he'd looked.
"Yes."
"Shall I ask Willington to clear his ballroom so you have the requisite twenty paces? Naturally, I'll stand as your second."
Elizabeth drew a shaky breath, and a smile curved her lips. "Is she wearing a bow?"
Ian looked and shook his head. "I'm afraid not."
"Does she have an earring?"
He glanced again and frowned. "I think that's a wart."
Her smile finally reached her eyes. "It's not a large target, but I suppose-"
"Allow me," he gravely replied, and she laughed.
The last strains of their waltz were dying away, and as they left the dance floor Ian watched Mondevale making his way toward the Townsendes, who'd returned to the ballroom.
"Now that you're a marquess," Elizabeth asked, "will you live in Scotland or in England?"
"I only accepted the title, not the money or the lands," he replied absently, watching Mondevale. "I'll explain everything to you tomorrow morning at your house. Mondevale is going to ask you to dance as soon as we reach the Townsendes, so listen closely-I'm going to ask you to dance again later. Turn me down."
She sent him a puzzled look, but she nodded. "Is there anything else?" she asked when he was about to relinquish her to her friends.
"There's a great deal else, but it will have to w ~ Judith McNaught

Look, I've already fucked you twice. You don't have to flatter me. Besides, I love my friends way too much to trade them in for the sake of looking hotter."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I mean, Casey has been my best friend since, like, forever, and she's the most loyal person I've ever met. And Jessica… well, she has no idea about me and her brother. We weren't friends back then. In fact, I didn't want to know her after Jake and I split, but Casey said it would be good for me, and she was right… as usual. Jessica can be a little ditsy, but she's the sweetest, most innocent person I know. I could never give either of them up just to look good. That'd make me a real dumbass."
"Then they're lucky to have you."
"I just said not to flatter-"
"I'm being honest." Wesley frowned at the mirror. "I have only one friend-one real friend. Harrison is the only guy who will be seen with me, and that's because we aren't trying to attract the same audience, if you know what I mean." A small smile spread across his lips when he turned to face me. "Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff."
"Well, I guess I'm not most people. ~ Kody Keplinger

He pulls the door shut behind him and drags me against him, murmuring softly, "I understand why you left. I understand everything." I cling to him, holding on for what feels like dear life. "I should have told you." "You would have." He pulls back to look at me. "When you were ready. We all have to deal with our inner demons in our own way, in our own time. ~ Lisa Renee Jones

Walk slowly," said a voice from behind me, and I turned around and felt my heart jump in delight. "Remember, you're on a crutch and she's an old lady."
"You came!" I said.
"I heard you were looking for me. Julian told me."
"I didn't think I'd see you. Not till, you know, till it was my turn."
"I couldn't wait," he said.
"You look exactly the same as you did on that last day. In Central Park."
"Actually, I'm a few pounds lighter," he said. "I've been on a fitness drive."
"Good for you." I stared at him and felt the tears forming in my eyes. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" I asked him. "It's been almost thirty years. I shouldn't have had to spend all that time on my own."
"I know, but it's nearly over. And you haven't done a bad job of it at the same time, given the mess you made of the first thirty. The years apart will feel like nothing compared to what we have before us."
"The music's started," said my mother, clutching me to her.
"I have to go, Bastiaan," I said. "Will I see you later?"
"No. But I'll be there in November when you arrive."
"All right." I took a deep breath. "I love you."
"I love you too," said my mother. "Shall we go?"
I nodded and stepped forward, and slowly we made our way down the aisle, passing the faces of our friends and family, and I delivered her into the arms of a kind man who swore to love her and take care of her for the rest of her life.
And at the end, when the e ~ John Boyne

I sent a messenger to the inn where they're staying," he told us. "They'll look after you while Castor and I are with the Pythia. Have a good time in Delphi." He acted as though he'd just solved every problem in the world.
I didn't see it that way.
As we crossed the temple grounds together, I asked Polydeuces, "Is there a good reason you're treating me like a silly sheep?" I indicated the two soldiers behind me. "Or are you embarrassing me like this just because you can?"
Castor spoke up before his twin could answer. "Stop making a fuss over nothing, Helen. These men will protect you, not steer you."
"That's right, Lady Helen," the taller of the two said. "We're your shadows, not your sheepdogs. Go anywhere you want."
I gave him a sweet, innocent smile. Then I barked at him. ~ Esther M. Friesner

How long has it been since you and your King were together?" he asked.
Rhi looked away, the tears returning again. "A very long time, but not so long that I don't remember the taste of his kiss or the way he would look at me and smile."
"You'll never move on unless you let go. What you need is another lover."
She cut him a look. "Are you applying for the position?"
"Would you take me? ~ Donna Grant

I see Dr. Johnston at the end of the hall, walking toward us. He stops talking to the other doctors and gestures for me to wait. He holds up his hand: Stop. His face is eager yet unsmiling. I look in the other direction then back at him. His steps quicken, and I squint, for some reason pretending I don't recognize him. And I think: What if I'm wrong? What if Joanie doesn't make it out of this?
"Scottie," I say. "This way."
I walk in the other direction, away from Dr. Johnston, and she turns and follows me.
"Walk quickly," I tell her.
"Why?"
"It's a game. Let's race. Walk fast. Run."She takes off, her backpack jiggling on her back, and I follow her, walking quickly then breaking into a slow jog, and because Dr. Johnston is my friend's dad and was a friend of my father's, I feel like I'm fourteen again, running from the patriarchs. ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

Old Hubert must have had a premonition of his squalid demise. In October he said to me, 'Forty-two years I've had this place. I'd really like to go back home, but I ain't got the energy since my old girl died. And I can't sell it the way it is now. But anyway before I hang my hat up I'd be curious to know what's in that third cellar of mine.'

The third cellar has been walled up by order of the civil defence authorities after the floods of 1910. A double barrier of cemented bricks prevents the rising waters from invading the upper floors when flooding occurs. In the event of storms or blocked drains, the cellar acts as a regulatory overflow.

The weather was fine: no risk of drowning or any sudden emergency. There were five of us: Hubert, Gerard the painter, two regulars and myself. Old Marteau, the local builder, was upstairs with his gear, ready to repair the damage. We made a hole.

Our exploration took us sixty metres down a laboriously-faced vaulted corridor (it must have been an old thoroughfare). We were wading through a disgusting sludge. At the far
end, an impassable barrier of iron bars. The corridor continued beyond it, plunging downwards. In short, it was a kind of drain-trap.

That's all. Nothing else. Disappointed, we retraced our steps. Old Hubert scanned the walls with his electric torch. Look! An opening. No, an alcove, with some wooden object that looks like a black statuette. I pick the thing up: it's easily remo ~ Jacques Yonnet

He rode well. I'm a good horsewoman, but he was good as I was or maybe better, I don't know. At the time I thought he was better. Galloping without stirrups is hard and he galloped clinging to the horse's back until he was out of sight. As I waited I counted the cigarette butts that he had stubbed out beside the hut and they made me want to learn to smoke. Hours later, as we were on our way back in my father's car, him in front and me in back, he said that there was probably some pyramid lying buried under our land. I remember that my father turned his eyes from the road to look at him. Pyramids? Yes he said, deep underground there must be lots of pyramids. My father didn't say anything. From the darkness of the backseat, I asked him why he thought that. He didn't answer. Then we started to talk about other things but I kept wondering why he'd said that about the pyramids. I kept thinking about pyramids. I kept thinking about my father's stony plot of land and much later, when I'd lost touch with him, each time I went back to that barren place I thought about the buried pyramids, about the one time I'd seen him riding over the tops of the pyramids, and I imagined him in the hut, when he was left alone and sat there smoking. ~ Roberto Bolano

You and I will converse while Hunt has a cigar," Westcliff informed him. "Come with us."
The "invitation" didn't seem to allow the possibility of a refusal, but Matthew tried nonetheless. "Thank you, my lord, but there is a certain matter I wish to discuss with someone, and I - "
"That someone would be Mr. Bowman, I expect."
Hell, Matthew thought. He knows. Even if it hadn't been for those words, he could tell by the way Westcliff was looking at him.
Westcliff knew about Bowman's intention of marrying him off to Daisy ... and not surprisingly, Westcliff had an opinion about it.
"You will discuss the matter with me first," the earl continued.
Matthew glanced warily at Simon Hunt, who gave him a bland look in return. "I'm certain," Matthew said, "that Mr. Hunt doesn't want to be bored by a discussion of someone else's personal affairs - "
"Not at all," Hunt said cheerfully. "I love hearing about other people's affairs. Particularly when they're personal. ~ Lisa Kleypas

But looking at you was nothing like looking at those pictures. When I first saw," he said, looking down at her chest, then up again to meet her eyes, "it hurt, almost a physical pain. Since you finished chemo, you've gotten so strong again. Sometimes I almost forget what you've been through. But seeing your scars, they reminded me of your hurt. How you've been cut apart. What you gave up."

It was important, not keeping herself back from him, putting parts of herself off limits. But it stung when he sank down to brush his lips over the two biggest scars.

"But your scars are beautiful. I mean, I look at them, and I want to kiss, I want to touch, I feel this tenderness for them. You know how when you love someone, when you've been with them a long time and you know all the little lines and curves and planes of their body, how you look at little parts of them - the corner of their mouth, the back of their hand, the little crease where their earlobe meets their jaw - and you can feel like you're in love with that little piece of them? Maybe soon, I'll look at your scars like that. But right now, it's this feeling I've never had for a part of someone's body, before, because they promise me you're well. That you get to live. That we get to have a long life together."

Her love for him was swelling up in her chest, the way it did sometimes, an ache she wanted to hold on to. ~ Varian Krylov

I look at him and my body reacts in a way that it never has before, even in the throes of passion. I look at him and I start aching so deep inside it takes all I can to think, to breathe, to speak. He's like the brightest flame and it takes everything in me to resist its call.

I know that if I give in, I'll get burned so deeply, there might be nothing left once I come out the other side.

But, god, I want to step into that flame. ~ D.L. Hess

"But you're a full-blood netherling. You don't know how to use your imagination."
"On the contrary. I do. Thanks to you. I followed your example in our childhood. I absorbed it without even realizing. Then, when I was stuck here deprived of my magic, I had to find something to while away those weeks and hours. Perhaps that was the silver lining to this entire debacle. The lack of magic is what leads humans to fantasize in the first place. And Alyssa, what a wonderfully powerful force an imagination can be."
His expression is awestruck, exactly the way he used to look at me during our childhood escapades. How inconceivable, that I was his teacher, too. He once told me I was, but I never grasped what he meant until now. ~ A.G. Howard

Several minutes later, when I passed among the guests to fill their empty cups with wine, I found him standing at my shoulder. "You'll wound my pride," he warned me softly, "ignoring me so." I flicked him a look that was only half-impatient. "I must not speak with you, by my uncle's own instruction." "And when have you obeyed instructions?" He held out his own cup to be filled, his mouth curved in amusement. "Besides, your uncle is engaged at present, with a most serious gentleman. If he should look this way, I've only to duck my head." "You are impossible, my lord." "Ay. And your good humor is lacking, madam. What is it that has so offended you? ~ Susanna Kearsley

We aren't fighting right now." I blurted out.

He gave me a sidelong look. "Do you want to fight?"

"No. I hate fighting with you. Verbally, I mean. I don't mind in the gym."

I thought I detected the hint of a smile. Always a half-smile for me. Rarely a full one. "I don't like fighting with you either."

Sitting next to him there, I marveled at the warm and happy emotions springing up inside me. There was something about being around him that felt so good, that moved me in a way Mason couldn't. You can't force love, I realized, It's there or it isn't. If it's not there, you've got to be able to admit it. If it is there, you've got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love.

The next words that came out of my mouth astonished me, both because they were completely unselfish and because I actually meant them.

"You should take it."

He flinched. "What?"

"Tasha's offer. You should take her up on it. It's a really great chance."

I remembered my mom's words about being ready for children. I wasn't. Maybe she hadn't been. But Tasha was. And I knew Dimitri was too. They got along really well. He could go be her guardian, have some kids with her...it would be a good deal for both of them.

"I never expected to hear you say anything like that," he told me, voice tight. "Especially after-"

"What a bitch I've been? Yeah." I tugged his coat tighter against the cold. ~ Richelle Mead

I followed the sensation,thinking of Lend. What it felt like to hold his hand. Watching him draw.Those precious times when he got to be nothing but himself around me. The way he laughed. The look he got in his eyes when he was about to say something he knew was clever. The way he looked at while I talked, like I was all he had ever wanted in the entire world. ~ Kiersten White

Dashed if I don't think he's begun to get queer in his attic! Well, what I mean is, hubble-bubble! I don't set up as one of these clever coves, but I've got more sense in my knowledge-box than to say such an addle-brained thing as that! Seems to me it don't make a ha'porth of difference whether you keep the dashed mill, or whether you don't, because that's where all your gingerbread came from, whichever way you look at it. And don't you tell me it's repugnant to him to have you coming down with the derbies, because all I've got to say to that is, Gammon! ~ Georgette Heyer

Are you falling asleep before midnight?" Cassie leaned over the edge of the couch to look at Jack. He was stretched out on the floor, his head resting against a pillow near the center of the couch, his eyes closed. She was now wide awake and headache free. He wasn't in so good a shape. "The new year is eighteen minutes away."
"Come kiss me awake in seventeen minutes."
She blinked at that lazy suggestion, gave a quick grin, and dropped Benji on his chest.
He opened one eye to look up at her as he settled his hand lightly on the kitten. "That's a no?"
She smiled. She was looking forward to dating him, but she was smart enough to know he'd value more what he had to work at.
He sighed. "That was a no. How much longer am I going to be on the fence with you?"
"Is that a rhetorical question or do you want an answer?" If this was the right relationship God had for her future, time taken now would improve it, not hurt it. She was ready to admit she was tired of being alone.
He scratched Benji under the chin and the kitten curled up on his chest and batted a paw at his hand. "Rhetorical. I'd hate to get my hopes up."
She leaned her chin against her hand, looking down at him. "I like you, Jack."
"You just figured that out?"
"I'll like you more when you catch my mouse."
"The only way we are going to catch T.J. is to turn this place into a cheese factory and help her get so fat and slow that she can no longer run and hide."
Or y ~ Dee Henderson

I went in; I closed the door. I sat down on the bed. Blackest space extended before me. I was not in this blackness, but at the edge of it, and I confess that it is terrifying. It is terrifying because there is something in it which scorns man and which man cannot endure without losing himself. But he must lose himself; and whoever resists will founder, and whoever goes forward will become this very blackness, this cold and dead and scornful thing in the very heart of which lives the infinite. This blackness stayed next to me, probably because of my fear: this fear was not the fear people know about, it did not break me, it did not pay any attention to me, but wandered around the room the way human things do. A great deal of patience is required if thought, when it has been driven down into the depths of the horrible, is to rise little by little and recognize us and look at us. But I still dreaded that look. A look is very different from what one might think, it has neither light nor expression nor force nor movement, it is silent, but from the heart of the strangeness its silence crosses worlds and the person who hears that silence is changed. ~ Maurice Blanchot

And the way he does look at me makes me feel absolutely beautiful. ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick

My heart filled with Nick's smile, with the look of sheer adoration he gave me as he lugged the bucket. In the space of an instant, I felt it again - the crumbling of an old part of me, the growth of something new. The changing of my heart into a mother's heart. It happened at the strangest times, in the most unexpected ways. Nick looked at me, and the love I felt for him was almost painful in its intensity. I'd never known I had it in me, the capacity to love this way ... But when Nick looked at me, my mind tumbled through nights and mornings, seasons and years in the future ... I saw a future like none I'd ever imagined. I wanted it, every minute of it. ~ Lisa Wingate

He could also be terrible romantic and thoughtful. My job was a real challenge. The work was difficult and the boss demanding: he thought nothing of calling or emailing at odd hours, even on the weekend; you ignored him at your peril.
There was a point at which everything got to me. And it was exactly at that moment that Chris stepped in and planned a weekend getaway. He found a little cabin out in the woods where there was no cell phone reception-yes!-and without telling anyone, we made our getaway.
Almost. I actually called the boss and told him my cell reception was giving out, and so I wouldn't be able to check messages, something he expected even on the weekends.
As soon as we got to the cabin, I headed to the bedroom. Inside, I opened my suitcase and changed into sexy white Victoria's Secret-style lingerie, complete with corset and thigh-highs. Feeling a little shy and silly, I walked out and leaned against the doorway of the living room where he was sitting.
"Hey!"
"Yeah?" he mumbled from the couch, not bothering to look up from the magazine he was reading.
"Turn around," I said.
He turned around-slowly at first. But as soon as he caught sight of me in that lingerie, he hopped clear over the couch and chased me down the hall to the bedroom. I squealed and giggled the whole way. ~ Taya Kyle

She asked him the question she had been asking herself for the past few days. "Why are you being so nice to me now?" J.D. leaned forward in his chair. He gazed directly into her eyes, and Payton suddenly found herself wondering why it had taken him eight years to look at her that way.
"Because you're letting me," he said softly. ~ Julie James

Wait a second," Four says. I turn toward him, wondering which version of Four I'll see now-the one who scolds me, or the one who climbs Ferris wheels with me. He smiles a little, but the smile doesn't spread to his eyes, which look less tense and worried.
"You belong here, you know that?" he says. "You belong with us. It'll be over soon, so just hold on, okay?"
He scratches behind his ear and looks away, like he's embarrassed by what he said.
I stare at him. I feel my heartbeat everywhere, even in my toes. I feel like doing something bold, but I could just as easily walk away. I am not sure which option is smarter, or better. I am not sure that I care.
I reach out and take his hand. His fingers slide between mine. I can't breathe.
I stare up at him, and he stares down at me. For a long moment, we stay that way. Then I pull my hand away and run after Uriah and Lynn and Marlene. Maybe now he thinks I'm stupid, or strange. Maybe it was worth it. ~ Veronica Roth

What are you doing?"
"Coming to pick you up in a little bit," he said. I loved it when he took charge. It made my heart skip a beat, made me feel flushed and excited and thrilled. After four years with J, I was sick and tired of the surfer mentality. Laid-back, I'd discovered, was no longer something I wanted in a man. And when it came to his affection for me, Marlboro Man was anything but that. "I'll be there at five." Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir. I'll be ready. With bells on.
I started getting ready at three. I showered, shaved, powdered, perfumed, brushed, curled, and primped for two whole hours--throwing on a light pink shirt and my favorite jeans--all in an effort to appear as if I'd simply thrown myself together at the last minute.
It worked. "Man," Marlboro Man said when I opened the door. "You look great." I couldn't focus very long on his compliment, though--I was way too distracted by the way he looked. God, he was gorgeous. At a time of year when most people are still milky white, his long days of working cattle had afforded him a beautiful, golden, late-spring tan. And his typical denim button-down shirts had been replaced by a more fitted dark gray polo, the kind of shirt that perfectly emphasizes biceps born not from working out in a gym, but from tough, gritty, hands-on labor. And his prematurely gray hair, very short, was just the icing on the cake. I could eat this man with a spoon.
"You do, too," I replied, trying to will away my spik ~ Ree Drummond

Candlelight flickered in the adjacent bedroom. She followed the ambient warmth to the threshold and paused there, marveling at what she saw. Lucan's austere bedroom had been transformed into something out of a dream. Four tall black pillar candles set into intricate silver sconces burned in each corner. Red silk draped the bed. On the floor before the fireplace was a cushioned next of fluffy pillows and even more crimson silk. It looked so romantic, so inviting.
A room intended for lovemaking.
She took a step farther inside. Behind her, the door closed softly on its own.
No, not quite on its own. Lucan was there, standing on the other side of the room, watching her. His hair was damp from a shower. He wore a loosely tied, satiny red robe that skated around his bare calves, and there was a heated look in his eyes that melted her where she stood.
"For you," he said, indicating the romantic setting. "For us tonight. I want things to be special for you."
Gabrielle was moved, instantly aroused by the sight of him, but she couldn't bear to make love the way things had been left between them.
"When I left tonight, I wasn't going to come back," she told him from the safety of distance. If she went any closer, she didn't think she'd have the strength to say what had to be said. "I can't do this anymore, Lucan. I need things from you that you can't give me."
"Name them." It was a soft command, but still a command. He moved toward her with careful ste ~ Lara Adrian

The renegade strand of hair nipped her eyes once more. With a swift, steady hand, Oscar pushed it away from her face. His fingertip left a trail of fire along her cheek. Camille reached up to help him tuck the strand back, and their fingers met. She knew for certain the flush had returned to her ears.
Oscar dropped his arm and walked to the rail, wrapping his strong hands around the carved wood.
"He is used to having things go his way," Oscar said, his voice low and only for her ears. Camille moved to stand beside hm.
"Have you always done everything he's asked of you?" She was cautious not to come off sounding snide.
His knuckles whitened as he gripped the rail tighter, as if to hold something back. Hold something in.
"No."
She hadn't expected him to give her an answer, and certainly not that one.
"No? I don't believe it. What have you done that's gone against his wishes?"
Oscar had been her father's shadow since day one. He'd watched and obeyed William Rowen with the kind of devotion any eager apprentice would show his teacher.
Oscar had been staring at the water, at the mounting churn of the waves. Now he shifted his eyes to her and fixed her with a look so strong and deep, she felt helpless beneath it.
"He asked me to stop associating with you," he answered, still hushed. Camille's eyes watered with mortification and dread. Her father had spoken to Oscar, too. She wiped her sweaty palms on the hips of her trousers.
"B ~ Angie Frazier

He fixed her in his gaze and set his jaw, his hands twitching at his sides. "You feel something for me," he said, daring her to try and deny it.
There was no point trying to hide it now. She looked away, numb.
"You can't feel that way about me." He lowered his voice. "It'll only get you hurt."
"Oh, come on! That's so cliche! What's that even supposed to mean?"
"It means my life is one that prevents me from the luxury of silly romantic notions. I can't have you look at me the way you just did. I don't care what Agatha's told you, or what she thinks she knows. This isn't going to happen, okay?"
Silly romantic notions? Farley's embarrassment quickly moved aside to make room for her anger. "Agatha hasn't told me anything. None of you ever do. You're right, I do feel something for you, but don't worry. From your reaction, it's pretty clear that the feeling's not mutual. I'm not some crazy stalker. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't flatter yourself into thinking that I'm completely head over heels in love with you. So just go!" she screamed, destroyed by his words and the feelings of rejection that coursed through her.
"You don't understand."
"I think I do."
"No! You don't!" The hard look in his eyes morphed into something more pained and desperate. He stepped forward and grabbed her roughly by the arms, the same way he had done in the silo.
"I sat there and watched you for months. Months! I watched you everywhere you went; I watche ~ Frankie Rose

Hannah. He looks at me, the same way he looked at me last night in the diner, with longing and sadness, and it's like everything I'm feeling I can see in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad it hurts, but I know I can't. So instead, I tear my gaze from his and look down at the ground. ~ Lauren Barnholdt

I'm sorry," Leo murmured and then seemed to look through Martin for a few seconds before he returned his gaze to him. "Although if it's any comfort - and please don't take this the wrong way, because I speak from my own perspective, which I understand often places me far outside of the norm - I sometimes like to think that death, at least in the case of those we truly love, allows us to appreciate what they have done for us in ways that are not possible when we're all here, constantly changing and fixated on how to get from one day to the next. Death offers us the chance to reflect on who they were, which of course is a way to understand ourselves. As painful as it can be to see them go - and I don't mean to diminish the sense of loss or grief we all feel - there is also no greater gift. ~ Matthew Gallaway

Robert Duvall taught me years ago. He said, "You know theatre is not real. I don't like plays." You know, he doesn't like plays. And I agree with him in certain ways, you know. They can be fun. I don't mind going to see them. I went and saw Phantom of the Opera. I thought hey, that's cool. Look at the mask and all that. ~ Billy Bob Thornton

Who the hell is Warren Ellis again?"
Hardison gaped at the man. "Only one of the greatest comics writers in the past twenty years. Might as well ask who Alan Moore is, or Frank Miller, or Mark Waid, or Brian Michael Bendis, or Marv Wolfman, or Geoff Johns."

Eliot gave Hardison a blank look as they wove their way through the hall. Parker took the lead, toting a printed sign with her. Eliot and Hardison trailed in her wake. They made a point of striding right past Patronus's booth. They didn't turn to see if he noticed them.

"No one?" Hardison said. "Nothing? Not even Kurt Busiek? Neil Gaiman?"

"I have a life. I do things, active things. I date women."
"Stan Lee?"

Eliot gave Hardison that one with a wag of his head. "Who hasn't heard of Stan Lee?"

"All right," Hardison said with satisfaction. "You had me worried there, man. ~ Matt Forbeck

It's important to keep up appearances with books," I explained. "Image goes a long way in this business."

He dared a look over at me, still nervous but steadily recovering his composure. "I go more for content."

"Really?" I repositioned slightly so that we were touching again, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing my bare skin. "Because I could have sworn a moment ago you were pretty caught up in outside appearance."

His eyes shifted down again, but I could see a smile curving his lips. "Well. Some things are so striking, they can't help but draw attention to themselves."

"And doesn't that make you curious about what's inside?"

"Mostly it makes me want to get you some advanced copies."

Advanced copies? What did he - ?

"Seth? Seth, where - ah, there you are." Paige turned down our aisle, Doug following behind. She brightened when she saw me, and I felt my stomach sink out of me and hit the floor with a thud as I put two and two together. No. No. It couldn't be -

"Ah, Georgina. I see you've already met Seth Mortensen. ~ Richelle Mead

I thought of what Cameron said about the day I came across the yard to him to ask him to be in my club. About how I had guts. About how I was brave and strong. He was around to tell me these things now, to remind me, but I was going to have to learn to remember them myself, and believe them.
I got up, crept to Alan's office, and went in.
"Cameron? Cam?"
He didn't move, and appeared to be fast asleep.
I'm not sure what I wanted. To look at him, I guess, and talk. I sat on the floor by the sofa bed so that my face was level with his. His breath came in short, toothpaste-minty sighs.
"Cameron Quick," I whispered, just wanting to hear his name. He still didn't move. I touched his face, following the curve of his jaw, the bow of his lips. This was the boy who made my childhood less lonely, who made me feel loved. And known. And accepted. Who had stared into my most terrifying moment right beside me, while my most terrifying moment was his everyday life. And I pictured him patting that baby doll by a cold window, showing it comfort by instinct. I felt overwhelmed with sadness for his life and what it could have been, even though I knew he wouldn't want me to feel that way. He'd say it was all right, that he'd get by, that he could take care of himself. That he didn't need anyone to fix it. But I still wanted to, to somehow make up for that infinite, infinite well of helplessness that I'd spent most of my life believing had swallowed us up.
It hadn't, t ~ Sara Zarr

Your alarm's about to go off in ten minutes," Caden called from the doorway. He had a cup of coffee in hand and wore only jeans.
I tried to keep my eyes front and center, but I lost. The tattoos were a nice little zig-zag pattern, pulling my gaze down, all the way down. Caden's slow, smooth chuckle told me he knew what I'd just done. My cheeks only warmed a little.
I shot him a look, falling back to the pillow. "I feel like this should be the first skip day of my school career."
"You've never skipped before?"
I shook my head, rolling it side to side on the pillow. "Am I missing out? Should I embrace my inner deviant?"
He smirked. "You can skip a class for any reason in the world. It's your life."
I sat up, eyeing that coffee. "You were supposed to be the bad influence."
His eyebrow lifted. "I'm not selling it enough?" He lifted his cup. "You want some coffee?"
"I'm wondering if today is the day I try coffee too."
"You've never had coffee?"
"I'm beginning to think I'm lame." I thought about it. "Really lame."
"You slept at some guy's house last night. Think of it that way." His smirk was back. "Not so lame now."
I could do one better. "I slept at a fraternity house."
"And you drank beer."
"It was the second night in a row that I drank beer."
"See? Not so lame after all."
"You're right." I sat up. "I'm halfway to total badass. ~ Tijan

Frozen, I stood staring at him like he was a vision or something. His hair was still damp, and a few droplets glistened on his face. When he caught me, warmth burned across my cheeks.
"Were you just ogling me, Angel?"
"No, I wasn't."
He chuckled. "I think you were."
I whirled around and swept my hands to my hips. "Fine I was ogling you. Happy now?"
"Actually I am. I like it when you look at me like you want me. Like you think I'm ... handsome."
My brows rose in surprise. "Handsome? That doesn't sound like the way you would describe yourself."
With a grin, he asked, "And just how would I describe myself?"
"Hmm, sexy, hot as hell, and panty melting?" I challenged as I handed him a Coke.
"Yeah, you're right. Those really describe me better. ~ Katie Ashley

Oh, stop talking," I cried, in a hunted tone. "I can't bear it. If you are going to arrest me, get it over."

"I'd rather NOT arrest you, if we can find a way out. You look so young, so new to Crime! Even your excuse for being here is so naive, that I - won't you tell me why you wrote a love letter, if you are not in love? And whom you sent it to? That's important, you see, as it bears on the case. I intend," he said, "to be judgdicial[sic], unimpassioned, and quite fair."

"I wrote a love letter" I explained, feeling rather cheered, "but it was not intended for any one, Do you see? It was just a love letter."

"Oh," he said. "Of course. It is often done. And after that?"

"Well, it had to go somewhere. At least I felt that way about it. So I made up a name from some malted milk tablets - - "

"Malted milk tablets!" he said, looking bewildered.

"Just as I was thinking up a name to send it to," I explained, "Hannah - that's mother's maid, you know - brought in some hot milk and some malted milk tablets, and I took the name from them."

"Look here," he said, "I'm unpredjudiced and quite calm, but isn't the `mother's maid' rather piling it on?"

"Hannah is mother's maid, and she brought in the milk and the tablets, I should think," I said, growing sarcastic, "that so far it is clear to the dullest mind."

"Go on," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "You named the letter ~ Mary Roberts Rinehart

Still, I could tell he and Gayle were trying. She baked a cake. Not as good as yours, though."
"What kind of cake?" I ask.
"Devil's food cake. Kind of dry." Peter hesitates before he says, "I invited him to graduation."
"You did?" My heart swells.
"He kept asking about school, and…I don't know. I thought about what you said, and I just did it." He shrugs, like he doesn't care much either way if his dad's there or not. It's an act. Peter cares. Of course he cares. "So you'll meet him then."
I snuggle closer to him. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."
He gives a little laugh. "For what?"
"For giving your dad a chance even though he doesn't deserve it." I look up at him and say, "You're a nice boy, Peter K.," and the smile that breaks across his face makes me love him even more. ~ Jenny Han

There,he reminds me of you." Shelby indicated a black panther stretched in a path of sunlight, calmly watching the river of people who passed by.
"Is that so?" Alan studied the cat. "Indolent? Subdued?"
Shelby let out her smoke-edged laugh. "Oh,no, Senator.Patient, brooding. And arrogant enough to believe this confinement is nothing he can't work with." Turning, she leaned back against the barrier to consider Alan as she had considered the panther. "He's taken stock of the situation,and decided he can pretty much have his own way as things are.I wonder..." Her brows drew together inn concentration. "I wonder just what he'd do if he were really crossed.He doesn't appear to have a temper. Cats usually don't until they're pushed too far just that one time, and then-they're deadly."
Alan gave her an odd smile before he took her hand to draw her toward the path again. "He normally sees that he's not often crossed."
Shelby tossed her head and met the smile with a bland look. "Let's go look at the monkeys.It always makes me think I'm sitting in the Senate Gallery."
"Nasty," he commented and tugged on her hair.
"I know.I couldn't help it." Briefly she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. "I'm often not a nice person. Grant and I both seem to have inherited a streak of sarcasm-or maybe it's cynicism. ~ Nora Roberts

I can't look at you anymore. I just want to kiss the fuck out of you. There's no way ... What the hell would you want with a guy like me?
A guy like him? Was he kidding? Beautiful Gabriel, my ever-demanding artist. What in the world was he thinking? ~ C.L.Stone

He took her near hand in his and raised it to his lips as he had once before. This time, he kissed it lightly, looking at her as he did, his expression unusually solemn. "Aye, sure, we'll go in," he said. "Just as soon as you look me in the eyes and tell me you're doing this willingly and not just because you said you would."
She looked him right in the eye then and said, "You first."

Ian laughed as much at the look of determination on Lina's face as at the challenge she had flung at him.
When she continued to watch him, he sobered. He was still holding her hand, so he gave it a warm squeeze and said, "I'm more willing with every minute that passes, lass. I believe that we will suit each other well."
"This may be the most reckless thing you have done, sir."
"It may be, aye. But you are doing it with me, so I'll wager that you won't carp and correct me at every turn as some wives try to do."
"I would not do that in any event," she said, peering into his face in that way she had that made him feel as if she would see right through him to his core. "I wonder if my opinions matter to you, though. I'm unlikely to change my feelings about many things that you do. Nor will I agree with you in all that you say."
"Then, likely we'll fratch from time to time," he said. "Would it help if I were to promise that I'll always listen?"
"It might," she said doubtfully. "It would help more if you did always listen."
He choked on another bubble ~ Amanda Scott

Tom has been having a difficult patch, and we meet at the church of IKEA as often as possible, because it is equidistant from our houses and always cheers us up. Yesterday I asked, 'In your depression, and with so many people having such a hard time, where is Advent?' He tried to wiggle out of it by saying, 'You Protestants and your little questions!' Then, when pushed, he said: 'Faith is a decision. Do we believe we are ultimately doomed and fucked and there's no way out? Or that God and goodness make a difference? There is heaven, community, and hope - and hope that there is life beyond the grave.'
'But Tom, at the same time, the grave is very real, dark and cold and lonely.' 'Advent is not for the naive. Because in spite of the dark and cold, we see light - you look up, or you make light, with candles, or with strands of lightbulbs on trees. And you give light. Beauty helps, in art and nature and faces. Friends help. Solidarity helps. If you ask me, when people return phone calls, it's about as good as it gets. And who knows beyond that. ~ Anne Lamott

The baron reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who it is," Ramsey remarked.
"I swear my own father never talked to me the way Gillian's uncle just did."
"Your father died before you were old enough to know him."
"It was humiliating, damn it. He sure as certain wasn't what I expected. The way Gillian talked about him, I pictured a mild-mannered gentleman. She thinks he's ... gentle. Is the woman blind? How in God's name can she love such a crotchety old ... "
Ramsey's head snapped up, and he suddenly burst into laughter, breaking Brodick's train of thought. "It's you."
"What?"
"Morgan ... he reminds me of you. My God, Gillian married a man just like her uncle. Look at the baron and you'll see yourself in twenty years."
"Are you suggesting I'm going to become a belligerent, foul-tempered old man?"
"Hell, you're already belligerent and foul-tempered. No wonder she fell in love with you," he drawled ~ Julie Garwood

The great teachers of your Christian religion understand this. They know that Jesus was not perturbed by the crucifixion, but expected it. He could have walked away, but he did not. He could have stopped the process at any point. He had that power. Yet he did not. He allowed himself to be crucified in order that he might stand as man's eternal salvation. Look, he said, at what I can do. Look at what is true. And know that these things, and more, shall you also do. For have I not said, ye are gods? Yet you do not believe. If you cannot, then, believe in yourself, believe in me. Such was Jesus' compassion that he begged for a way - and created it - to so impact the world that all might come to heaven (Self realization) - if in no other way, then through him. For he defeated misery and death. And so might you. The grandest teaching of Christ was not that you shall have everlasting life - ~ Neale Donald Walsch

Qualcomm is putting these sensor clips on all forty-eight buildings in San Diego. Suddenly the building maintenance guys "got converted to data engineers, which is exciting for them," added Tipirneni. They made sure the data was "distilled in a way that is easy for them to understand and be actionable. In the old days, when a facilities manager looked at a building, he would say: "If there is a leak someone will call me or I will see it." They were reactive. Now, says Tipirneni, "We trained them to look at signals and data that will point them to a leak before it happens and causes destruction. They did not know what data to look at, so our challenge was [to] make sensor data easy for them to make sense of, so we don't overwhelm them with too much data and just say 'You figure it out.' Our goal was, 'We will give you information you can use. ~ Thomas L. Friedman

And thank you for bringing me."
"A pleasure." Bartel returned politely, and stole one last look at the incredible smiling Hairy.
Rider stood. Though he was relieved to hear that she planned on staying for a while, he was glad for an excuse to escape his landlady's inquisition. "I'll give you a hand, Bartel." Just short of grabbing the older man's arm, he hustled him out the door.
Once outside, bartel chortled jovially. "Ease up,son. She isn't coming after us."
Rider exhaled deeply and grinned. "Who put the burr under the lady's saddle?" he asked as they approached the carriage.
"Don't know, but she came flying into my store saying she had to get out here and get out here now! I tried to tell her I was too busy to be gallivanting all over hell's half acre, but do you think she'd listen? Uh-uh. Kept ranting and raving something 'bout Miss Willow's welfare. The woman was in a real dither all the way here."
Rider groaned.
Bartel slapped his back. "I can commiserate with you,son. There isn't anything scarier than a virtuous woman on a crusade. ~ Charlotte McPherren

This whole strike has turned into a way to fuck with people, Lissa," he snapped. "It was one thing when you were just boycotting sex, but now...Look at you. You're using sex to get what you want-playing with my feelings for your own benefit. That's why you came over, right? I'm not stupid. You're the one who's cruel, Lissa. Not me. ~ Kody Keplinger

It's weird being alone in the museum. It's dark and eerily quiet: Only the after-hours lights are on - just enough to illuminate the hallways and stop you from tripping over your own feet - and the background music that normally plays all the time is shut off.

I quickly organize the flashlights and check their batteries, and when I don't hear Porter walking around, I stare at the phone sitting at the information desk. How many chances come along like this? I pick up the receiver, press the little red button next to the word ALL, and speak into the phone in a low voice. "Paging Porter Roth to the information desk," I say formally, my voice crackling through the entire lobby and echoing down the corridors. Then I press the button again and add, "While you're at it, check your shoes to make sure they're a match, you bastard. By the way, I still haven't quite forgiven you for humiliating me. It's going to take a lot more than a kiss and a cookie to make me forget both that and the time you provoked me in the Hotbox."

I'm only teasing, which I hope he knows. I feel a little drunk on all my megaphone power, so I page one more thing:

"PS - You look totally hot in those tight-fitting security guard pants tonight, and I plan to get very handsy with you at the movies, so we better sit in the back row."

I hang up the phone and cover my mouth, silently laughing at myself. Two seconds later, Porter's footfalls pound down Jay's corridor - Boom! B ~ Jenn Bennett

Jeez, how old are you?" I total y knew how old he was, but I wanted to pick.

Aiden cracked his neck. "I turn twenty-one in October."
"Huh." I shook the bottle. "So have you always been so…
mature?"
His brows furrowed. "Mature?"
"Yeah, you sound like a dad." I deepened my voice and tried to look stern. "'Don't look at me that way' or else."
Aiden blinked slowly. "I don't sound like that and I didn't say 'or else.'"
"But if you had, what would the 'or else' be?" I hid my grin with the bottle. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I heard a thunk that sounded like Lend's head against the door. "This is stupid. Let my dad take care of it. He's been contacting everyone he knows who is still with IPCA, and - "
I walked over and put my own head against the door, pretending there wasn't anything between us. "And it doesn't matter. IPCA isn't the same. There are new people in charge, and they aren't messing around. I can help her. Raquel would do the same for me. She has done the same for me."
"I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and - "
"Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz."
"Evie, I'm serious! You just broke out of IPCA! You're going to get tased and tagged again."
"I really doubt it. Faerie backup, remember?" I went to the window and looked down into the yard, where Reth stood in the midst of the dead brown grass, looking like a god of spring and sunshine who had seriously lost his way. He was staring straight up at me, although how he knew I'd look straight down that instant I had no idea. Creeper.
I shivered a little, still not breaking eye contact with Reth. I was in over my head, I knew that, and I knew I'd owe him even more after this. I had no doubt I'd pay in a way I really didn't want to, and soon.
The door shook as Lend kicked it. "Pretty much the only idea I like less than you walking back into IPCA is you walking back into IPCA with only Jack and Reth for protection."
"They owe me."
"Tru ~ Kiersten White

Love?
Yes.
Gideon chuckled.
Why did you say yes like that?
Oh, I thought you were asking me a question.
I see.
Then he truly did see what she meant, and his heart flipped over in his chest.
Darling?
Gideon smiled at the warmth the endearment flooded him with.
Yes, Neliss?
Oh, nothing. Just fulfilling my end of the deal.
The deal?
Yes. You made me a deal.
You lost me, he sighed.
Legna lifted her head, propped an elbow up against the pillow of his chest, and settled her chin in her palm so she could look down at him.
"You said that I would get something very special if I called you that."
"Did I?" he asked, his eyes brightening with speculation as he thought back on it. "Actually, I think you have that confused with the deal about saying my name."
"I like your name," she said with a smile. "I always thought mine was awful snobbish. But yours has me beat hands down."
"My name is one of the finest and oldest names in all of our history."
"That's only because you have lived to be such an older tosser."
"Tosser?"
"British vernacular, luv."
"What are you, my dialect coach all of a sudden? Is this your idea of postcoital pillow talk?"
Legna giggled, apologizing with a clinging kiss on his lips. It clearly calmed him, making him smile in a very cat-versus-canary way.
"Is there something you would prefer I say?" she asked compliantly.
"That yes a few sentences ba ~ Jacquelyn Frank

A blush tinged her bronzed skin as she wrapped her arms around herself. Corrado grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away when she tried to shield herself. He stared at her, stunned to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
"You're not nervous this time, are you?" he asked, half-teasingly, half honestly wanting to know. She'd been so confident, unwavering before.
"It's the way you're looking at me."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like you look at the Taj Mahal. Or the Sistine Chapel. You're staring at me like you stare at the Mona Lisa."
"I've never seen those things."
"It's like you've never seen something so beautiful before."
"I haven't. ~ J.M. Darhower

It was late; I'd been sleeping. I woke up to the sound of him crying. The ward was dark, with only the light from the nurses' station bleeding in. 'Kid,' he said to me, and his voice… his voice was like a ghost. Like that part of him had already died and had come back for the rest. 'Kid, this is worse than Topeka.' He told me that once, in the war, he'd come upon a German soldier in the grass with his insides falling out; he was just lying there in agony. The soldier had looked up at Sergeant Leonard, and even though they didn't speak the same language, they understood each other with just a look. The German lying on the ground; the American standing over him. He put a bullet in the soldier's head. He didn't do it with anger, as an enemy, but as a fellow man, one soldier helping another. 'One soldier helping another.' That's how he put it." Again, Jericho fell quiet for a moment. "He told me what he needed me to do. Told me I didn't have to. Told me that if I did, he'd make sure God would forgive me, if that's what I was worried about. One soldier helping another."

Jericho fell quiet. Evie held so still she thought she might break.

"I found his belt in the dresser and helped him into the wheelchair. The hall was quiet on the way to the shower. I remember how clean the floor was, like a mirror. I had to make a new hole in the leather to tighten it around his neck. Even without his arms and legs, he was heavy. But I was strong. Just before, he looked at me ~ Libba Bray

Lend stood staring blankly at the shelves of food. Arianna had sneaked upstairs to eat - or rather, drink - in private. "I have no idea what to make. I'm too exhausted to think."
"You have no right to be tired. And I never want to see you asleep ever again. I had enough of that for a lifetime these past few days."
"Allow me to take over," Jack said, striding into the kitchen. He nudged Lend out of the way and started pulling out a huge pile of ingredients.
"Can you even cook?"
"If Lend had let me make him an omelet earlier, that question would already be answered."
Lend sat next to me, leaning over and putting his arm under my head as a pillow against the counter. "Remind me again why we trust him now?"
"Because we need all the help we can get. And I think he really is sorry. And a lot of people are going to depend on him of all the faeries leave."
Jack furiously chopped vegetables. "Captain Dependable! Wait, we vetoed that one. The Divine Door Maker? Too much? Hmm . . . Handsome Hero, but maybe I should move away from alliteration. Something sleek. Our Lord and Master Jack."
Lend rolled his eyes and gave me a seriously-can-I-just-beat-him-to-a-pulp look. ~ Kiersten White

Lea stood upon a fallen log ahead of us, staring ahead. Mouse walked up to her.

Gggrrrr rawf arrrgggrrrrarrrr," I said.

Mouse gave me an impatient glance, and somehow--I don't know if it was something in his body language or what--I became aware that he was telling me to sit down and shut up or he'd come over and make me.

I sat down. Something in me really didn't like that idea, but when I looked around, I saw that everyone else had done it too, and that made me feel better.

Mouse said, again in what sounded like perfectly clear English, "Funny. Now restore them."

Lea turned to look at the big dog and said, "Do you dare to give me commands, hound?"

Not your hound," Mouse said. I didn't know how he was doing it. His mouth wasn't moving or anything. "Restore them before I rip your ass off. Literally rip it off."

The Leanansidhe tilted her head back and let out a low laugh. "You are far from your sources of power here, my dear demon."

I live with a wizard. I cheat." He took a step toward her and his lips peeled up from his fangs in unmistakable hostility. "You want to restore them? Or do I kill you and get them back that way?"

Lea narrowed her eyes. Then she said, "You're bluffing."

One of the big dog's huge, clawed paws dug at the ground, as if bracing him for a leap, and his growl seemed to . . . I looked down and checked. It didn't seem to shake the ground. The ground ~ Jim Butcher

Let's go out to the parking lot so you can get some air," he says, putting an arm around me and hustling me out the door and through the restaurant.
We step outside, and I sway on my feet a little. Peter's trying not to smile. "You're drunk."
"I guess I'm a weightlight!"
"Lightweight." He pinches my cheeks.
"Right. Weightlight. I mean, lightweight." Why is that so funny? I can't stop laughing. But then I see the way he is looking at me, with such tenderness, and I stop. I don't feel like laughing anymore. I feel like crying. Look at the way he made my dad's bachelor party so special. Look at all the ways he loves me so well. I have to love him back just as much. ~ Jenny Han

The back of my neck breaks out in a sweat, and I'm getting nervous. Why is he just standing there, staring at me? "What do you want?" I press, my tone curt.

He opens his mouth but then closes it swallowing.

"Pike, Jesus - "
"The day you left," he blurts out, and I stop.

I wait, listening as a look of fear crosses his eyes.

"The house was so empty," he continues. "Like a quiet that was never there before. I couldn't hear your footsteps upstairs or your hairdryer or anticipate you walking into a room. You were gone. Everything was…" he drops his eyes, "gone."

A ball lodges in my throat, and I feel tears threaten, but I tense my jaw, refusing to let it out.

"But I could still feel you," he whispers. "You were still everywhere. The container of cookies in the fridge, the backsplash you picked out, the way you put all my pictures back in the wrong spot after you dusted my bookshelves." He smiles to himself. "But I couldn't rearrange them, because you were the last to touch them, and I wanted everything the way you had it."

My chin trembles, and I fold my arms over my chest, hiding my balled fists under my arms.

He pauses and then goes on. "Nothing would ever go back to the way it was before you came into my house. I didn't want it to." He shakes his head. "I went to work, and I came home, and I stayed there every night and all weekend, every weekend, because that's where we were together. ~ Penelope Douglas, Birthday Girl

If someone sits and stares at you while you eat, you won't even eat the way you normally do, because it'll make you so uncomfortable. If I look at my dog when he's eating, he will look at me like, "Dave, I will bite you. What are you looking at? I'm trying to eat." It's something that dehumanizes a person, being on display like that. ~ Dave Chappelle

He reached out and caressed her face. With a serious expression, he traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb. "You're beautiful, Ani. In all of eternity, there's never been another faery who could make me want to forget everything and everyone else."
"Because you like the way I look?" She rolled her eyes. "Apparently, my dream mind is shallow."
"No, not the exterior. You… the tempers and follies and passion… even the way you care for that infuriating steed."Devlin gazed at her like she was precious. "Even knowing you could be fatal, I would've said yes."
Her chest hurt like she had held her breath too long as she asked, "To?"
"Whatever you wanted." He didn't reach out and pull her into his embrace. Instead, he took one step forward, leaned down, and kissed her. ~ Melissa Marr

He looked at me the way you'd look at a poodle that suddenly started reciting Hamlet. ~ Serra Elinsen

My time in camp with Kaden had become awkward several times, or perhaps I was just more self-conscious now.

I had known he cared about me. It was hardly a secret. It was the reason I was still alive, but I hadn't quite grasped how much he cared. And in spite of myself, I knew in my own way, I cared about him too. Not Kaden the assassin, but the Kaden I had known back in Terravin, the one who had caught my attention the minute he walked through the tavern door. The one who was calm and had mysterious, but kind, eyes.

I remembered dancing with him at the festival, his arms pulling me closer, and the way he struggled with his thoughts, holding them back. He didn't hold back the night he was drunk. The fireshine had loosened his lips and he laid it all out quite blatantly. Slurred and sloshy but clear. He loved me. This from a barbarian who was sent to kill me.

I lay back, staring into the cloudless sky, a shade bluer and brighter than yesterday.

Did he even know what love was? For that matter, did I? Even my parents didn't seem to know. I crossed my arms behind my head as a pillow. Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

I wondered if his interest had begun when I tended his shoulder. I remembered his odd look of surprise when I touched him, as if no one had ever shown him a kindness before. If Griz, Finch, and Malich were any indication of his past, maybe no ~ Mary E. Pearson

Just as Drake turned six weeks old, I decided I wanted to lose some baby weight. Chip and I were both still getting used to the idea that we had a baby of our own now, but I felt it was okay to leave him with Chip for a half hour or so in the mornings so I could take a short run up and down Third Street. I left Drake in the little swing he loved, kissed Chip good-bye, and off I went.
Chip was so sweet and supportive. When I got back he was standing in the doorway saying, "Way to go, baby!" He handed me a banana and asked if I'd had any cramps or anything. I hadn't. I actually felt great.
I walked in and discovered Chip had prepared an elaborate breakfast for me, as if I'd run a marathon or something. I hadn't done more than a half-mile walk-run, but he wanted to celebrate the idea that I was trying to get myself back together physically. He'd actually driven to the store and back and bought fresh fruit and real maple syrup and orange juice for me.
I sat down to eat, and I looked over at Drake. He was sound asleep in his swing, still wearing nothing but his diaper. "Chip, did you take Drake to the grocery store without any clothes on?"
Chip gave me a real funny look. He said, "What?"
I gave him a funny look back.
"Oh my gosh," he said. "I totally forgot Drake was here. He was so quiet."
"Chip!" I yelled, totally freaked out.
I was a first-time mom. Can you imagine?
Anyone who's met Chip knows he can get a little sidetracked, but th ~ Joanna Gaines

I wasn't built for this," he yelled. "Look at me. You know it's true." And for the
first time, maybe ever, he didn't sound cool. He sounded a little panicked. And a
little angry. "I don't want to love someone so much that they take up all my head,
all my space. If I knew I was going to feel this way about you, I would have left a
long time ago, while I still could. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.
What?"
The question seemed to explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended. Taken by surprise, Horace's bay shied in fright and danced several paces away.
Horace turned an aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.
What?" he asked Halt, and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.
That's what I want to know," he said irritably. "What?"
Horace peered at him. The look was too obviously the sort of look that you give someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt's rapidly growing temper.
What?" said Horace, now totally puzzled.
Don't keep parroting at me!" Halt fumed. "Stop repeating what I say! I asked you 'what,' so don't ask me 'what' back, understand?"
Horace considered the question for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: "No."
Halt took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes with anger but before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.
What 'what' are you asking me?" he said. Then, thinking how to make the question clearer, he added, "Or to put it another way, why are you asking 'what'?"
Controlling himself with enormous restraint, and making no secret of ~ John Flanagan

Do you really think I've been murdered?" Michael's voice was soft, but I still heard it from across the bedroom. He stood in the doorway with a rather solemn expression. Words failed me. Would he really want to hear the answer? If it were me, would I want to know if someone killed me? Maybe.
I took a deep breath. "I'll be honest with you. It doesn't look good. The fact that no one knows you're dead yet makes me worry that your death might have been intentional."
I stepped closer to him, staring all the way up into his face. "But if you want the truth, I don't think the reason you died was your fault. You're a pain in the ass, but you're a good guy. I'm sorry this happened to you."
He gazed at me for a handful of seconds before nodding and his hair slid forward into his eyes. For some reason, it was the first time Michael seemed human. He was always so amiable and confident that seeing him be vulnerable felt odd.
"Thank you."
"Come on. Let's go find some answers. ~ Kyoko M.