You Smile For Me Quotes

Oh." I flushed. Stretching over, I placed it on the table. Then I addressed Archer. "We owe you a thank-you for ... for everything." I waited for Daemon to chime in. When he didn't, I kicked his leg. "Thank you," Daemon muttered. Archer's mouth curved in amusement, and I think it was the first time I saw him really smile. I was blown away by how young it made him look. "You have no idea how gleeful that makes me feel to hear you say that, Daemon." "I can imagine. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I took a steadying breath. "Listen, I know we have a full night ahead of us, but I wanted to give you your birthday present."

"Oh, darling, you didn't need to get me anything. Every day with you is a gift." He leaned in and kissed me.

"Well, I hadn't planned on getting you a gift, but then something presented itself, so here we are."

"All right then," he said, placing his glass on the ground. "I'm ready. Where is it?"

"That's the only problem," I started. I felt my hands begin to shake. "It won't actually arrive for another seven or eight months."

He smiled but squinted. "Eight months? What in the world could take . . ."

As his words drifted away, so did his eyes, leaving my face and making their way to my stomach. He seemed to expect me to look different, for me to be as big as a house already. But I'd done my best to hide everything: the tiredness, the nausea, the sudden distaste for foods.

He stared on and on, and I waited for him to smile or laugh or jump up and down. But he sat there, frozen to the point that it started to frighten me.

"Maxon?" I reached out and touched his leg. "Maxon, are you all right?"

He nodded, still watching my stomach. ~ Kiera Cass

Myrnin blinked, looked at Eve, and smiled. It was his seductive smile, and it came with a lowering of his thick eyelashes. "Sweet lady," he said, "could you get me one of those delicious drinks you prepared for my friend, here?" He gracefully indicated Oliver, who remembered the cup of blood still sitting in front of him, and angrily choked it down. "Perhaps warm the bag a bit in hot water first? It's a bit disgusting, cold."
"Yeah, sure," Eve sighed. "Want a shot of espresso with that?"
Myrnin seemed to be honestly considering it. Claire urgently shook her head no. The last thing she - any of them - needed just now was Myrnin on caffeine. ~ Rachel Caine

A couple of minutes later I was surprised when the figure that came back was ... not him. It was Arianna, holding something bulky draped over her arm.
She opened my door, and I got out. "Where's Lend? I'm supposed to wait for him."
"Nope." She smiled bigger than I'd ever seen her smile before, and suddenly I was a touch nervous. What if she was working with Nona and the faeries? "You were waiting for me. Now, strip."
"I - What?"
"You heard me. Strip. Take off your coat, shirt, and pants. You can leave your bra, for all the good it does you."
I noticed then that the bulky thing over her arm was a garment bag. Aha! "Ar, listen, I don't feel that way about you. You're not my type."
"Oh, shut up, take your clothes off, and close your eyes."
"Again, not something I was hoping to hear from you tonight."
Her smile was replaced by an annoyed scowl. "DO IT NOW. ~ Kiersten White

But if you knew that, why on earth did you marry her?" Rosemary asked.

"Why?" Rhett's mouth twisted in a smile.
"Because she was so full of fire and so recklessly, stubbornly brave.Because she was such a child beneath all her pretenses.Because she was unlike any woman I had ever known. She fascinated
me,infuriated me, drove me mad. I loved her as consumingly as she loved him. From the day I first laid eyes on her. It was a kind of disease."
There was a weight of sorrow in his voice. He bowed his head into his two hands and laughed shakily. His voice was muffled and blurred by his fingers. "What a grotesque practical joke life is. Now Ashley Wilkes is a free man and would marry Scarlett on a moment's notice, and I want to be rid of her. Naturally that makes her determined to have me. She wants only what she cannot have."
Rhett raised his head. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "afraid that it will all begin again. I know that she's heartless and completely selfish, that she's like a child who cries for a toy and then breaks it once she has it. But there are moments when she tilts her head at a certain angle, or she smiles that gleeful smile, or she suddenly looks lost-and I come close to forgetting what I know. ~ Alexandra Ripley

You must have traveled all night," she heard herself say.
"I had to come back early." She felt his lips brush her tumbled hair. "I left some things unfinished. But I had a feeling you might need me. Tell me what's happened, sweetheart."
Amelia opened her mouth to answer, but to her mortification, the only sound she could make was a sort of miserable croak. Her self-control shattered. She shook her head and choked on more sobs, and the more she tried to stop them, the worse they became.
Cam gripped her firmly, deeply, into his embrace. The appalling storm of tears didn't seem to bother him at all. He took one of Amelia's hands and flattened it against his heart, until she could feel the strong, steady beat. In a world that was disintegrating around her, he was solid and real. "It's all right," she heard him murmur. "I'm here."
Alarmed by her own lack of self-discipline, Amelia made a wobbly attempt to stand on her own, but he only hugged her more closely. "No, don't pull away. I've got you." He cuddled her shaking form against his chest. Noticing Poppy's awkward retreat, Cam sent her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, little sister."
"Amelia hardly ever cries," Poppy said.
"She's fine." Cam ran his hand along Amelia's spine in soothing strokes. "She just needs…"
As he paused, Poppy said, "A shoulder to lean on."
"Yes." He drew Amelia to the stairs, and gestured for Poppy to sit beside them.
Cradling Amelia on his lap, Cam fo ~ Lisa Kleypas

Smile at me, baby, and I'll walk on hot coals for you, no matter how many times you wake me up in the middle of the night. ~ Shannon Brownlee

Please forgive me for fighting against us, Gavin. Please forgive me for not fighting for us when I knew we were supposed to be together. Forgive me for being the weak mess I am. But more than anything ... thank you for loving me. Thank you for your dimpled smile and your bottle caps. I'll never be able to look at one without thinking of you. Thank you for your stupid Yankees and your wiseass remarks. Thank you for wanting late night drives and sunset-watching with me. Thank you for wanting the good, the bad, and the in-between. ~ Gail McHugh

Rest," Logan said. "Both of you." His caressing gaze moved over his wife and infant daughter.
"I'll watch over you."
"Love me?" Madeline asked with a faint smile, and yawned again.
"It used to be love." He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. "Now there's no word for it."
"You once told me that you thought love was a weakness."
"I was wrong," he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth. "I've discovered it's my only
strength."
Madeline fell asleep with a smile still on her lips, her hand curled around his. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Why have you brought me here?" My voice shook. I couldn't stop staring at the Night Bazaar. There it was. And here I was. Standing on the same plot of land shared with beings that--until now--had only existed in stories. "What do you want from me?"
He stopped. The smile was gone from his lips.
"I want your perspective and honesty," he said, before adding in a softer voice, "I want to be humbled by you."
Heat flared in my cheeks. I paused, the stick in my hand falling a fraction. Perspective and honesty? Humbled by me? Rajas never asked for anything other than sons from their consorts.
"My kingdom needs a queen," he said. "It needs someone with fury in her heart and shadows in her smile. It needs someone restless and clever. It needs you."
"You know nothing about me."
"I know your soul. Everything else is an ornament."
His voice wrapped around me, lustrous and dark. It was the kind of voice that could soothe you to sleep in the same moment that it slit your throat. Still, I leaned toward it.
"Come with me," he said. "You would never be content in that world. They would cage you. They would give you playthings of silver and silk."
His teeth burned white when he smiled. "I could give you whole worlds. ~ Roshani Chokshi

You really think broken children care about justice?" "Wouldn't you?" "Never really did, no. Justice is a faulty thing at the best of times, and it doesn't actually fix anything." "Would you say that if you'd gotten justice as a child?" That not-quite-smile, bitter and gone too fast. "And what would I have needed justice for?" "My life's work, and you think I won't recognize a broken child when she sits in front of me? ~ Dot Hutchison

Shush, listen to me. I've been thinking this over. I could see this new thing was weighing down on you, but I know you're going to be all right." "I'm not so sure." "That's OK. I can be sure for both of us. We've been together in this house for fifteen years, so I know what I'm talking about. When I first started with you I thought it was only a matter of time before depression would take you over. And there was that one summer when it came close, but it didn't happen. Every day you get up and learn something new. Every day you find something to be happy about. Every single day you have a smile for me. You worry more about your mother than you do about yourself. ~ Nicola Yoon

Margery," I blurted out in a passion of frustration. "I don't know what to make of you!"

Nor I you, Mary. Frankly, I cannot begin to comprehend the motives of a person who dedicates a large portion of her life to the contemplation of a God in whom she only marginally believes."

I felt stunned, as if she had struck me in the diaphragm. She looked down at me, trying to measure the effect of her words.

Mary, you believe in the power that the idea of God has on the human mind. You believe in the way human beings talk about the unknowable, reach for the unattainable, pattern their imperfect lives and offer their paltry best up to the beingless being that created the universe and powers its continuation. What you balk as it believing the evidence of your eyes, that God can reach out and touch a single human life in a concrete way." She smiled a sad, sad smile. "You mustn't be so cold, Mary. If you are, all you will see is a cold God, cold friends, cold love. God is not cold-never cold. God sears with heat, not ice, the heat of a thousand suns, heat that inflames but does not consume. You need warmth, Mary-you, Mary, need it. You fear it, you flirt with it, you imagine that you can stand in its rays and retain your cold intellectual attitude towards it. You imagine that you can love with your brain. Mary, oh my dear Mary, you sit in the hall and listen to me like some wild beast staring at a campfire, unable to leave, fearful of losing your freedom i ~ Laurie R. King

I select the right practice gun, the one about the size of a pistol, but bulkier, and offer it to Caleb.
Tris's fingers slide between mine. Everything comes easily this morning, every smile and every laugh, every word and every motion.
If we succeed in what we attempt tonight, tomorrow Chicago will be safe, the Bureau will be forever changed, and Tris and I will be able to build a new life for ourselves somewhere. Maybe it will even be a place where I trade my guns and knives for more productive tools, screwdrivers and nails and shovels. This morning I feel like I could be so fortunate. I could.
"It doesn't shoot real bullets," I say, "but it seems like they designed it so it would be as close as possible to one of the guns you'll be using. It feels real, anyway."
Caleb holds the gun with just his fingertips, like he's afraid it will shatter in his hands.
I laugh. "First lesson: Don't be afraid of it. Grab it. You've held one before, remember? You got us out of the Amity compound with that shot."
"That was just lucky," Caleb says, turning the gun over and over to see it from every angle. His tongue pushes into his cheek like he's solving a problem. "Not the result of skill."
"Lucky is better than unlucky," I say. "We can work on skill now."
I glance at Tris. She grins at me, then leans in to whisper something to Christina.
"Are you here to help or what, Stiff?" I say. I hear myself speaking in the voice I cultivated as an initiatio ~ Veronica Roth

Miss me?" she asks with her usual wryness, tossing her backpack on the floor and dropping down on the bed beside me like she comes over all the time. "I feel like a rebel just knowing you. Everyone keeps asking me if you really lit Brooklyn on fire."
I arch a brow. "On fire?"
Catherine pumps up a pillow beneath her head. "The actual event has gotten a bit exaggerated." Her lips twitch. "Maybe I had something to do with that."
"Nice. Thanks."
"No problem."
"So I guess I'm pretty much done for at school." For the first time, it matters to me. If I'm to stay here and make a go of it, it wouldn't hurt to have a few friends. To not be a social outcast. Especially since it seems pretty important for Tamra's success at school, too.
"Are you kidding? You're a hero." Her lips twist with a smile. "I think you've got a shot at homecoming queen next fall."
I give a short laugh, and then her words sink. Next fall. Might I be here then? With Will? It's almost too sweet to believe.
"So," Catherine beings, picking at the loose paper edging my spiral. "Rutledge was absent today."
"Yeah?" I try for nonchalance.
"Yeah." She stretches the word, her blue-green eyes cutting meaningfully into mine. "And his cousins were around, so he's not off somewhere with them. I wonder..." She cocks her head, her long, choppy bangs, sliding low across her forehead. "Wherever could he have been?"
I shrug and pick at the flaking tip of my pencil.
She con ~ Sophie Jordan

i am confident i am over you. so much that some mornings i wake up with a smile on my face and my hands pressed together thanking the universe for pulling you out of me. thank god i cry. thank god you left. i would not be the empire i am today if you had stayed.

but then.

there are some nights i imagine what i might do if you showed up. how if you walked into the room this very second every awful thing you've ever done would be tossed out the closet window and all the love would rise up again. it would pour through my eyes as if it never really left in the first place. as if it's been practicing how to stay silent so long only so it could be this loud on your arrival. can someone explain that. how even when the love leaves. it doesn't leave. how even when i am so past you. i am so helplessly brought back to you. ~ Rupi Kaur

I make a great fried egg sandwich. Want to try it?"
Chloe stared at her with an encouraging smile until Josey finally laughed and nodded. "Okay."
"Great!" Chloe put on a pair of disposable gloves, then she took butter and two eggs from the under-the-counter fridge. "Go ahead and take a business card. You can call me here if you want. And the bottom number is my cell." She plopped a pat of butter onto the grill. When the butter melted, she cracked the eggs into it, close enough for their whites to merge. While they sizzled, she buttered two slices of sourdough bread and put them on the grill.
"I didn't know this place was called Red's," Josey said, reading the card.
Chloe smiled when she thought of her great-grandfather. "Another family tradition. My great-grandfather had red hair. So did my mother." Chloe sprinkled the eggs with salt and pepper and a pinch of dill, then turned them over with her spatula. She flipped the quickly toasting bread too. She'd spent her childhood watching her great-grandfather do this, and here at the shop was the only time she felt him near anymore. "Do you want this for here or to go?"
"To go."
Chloe sprinkled a little more salt and pepper on the eggs, made sure the yolks had firmed ever so slightly, then topped them with cheese. She let the cheese melt before scooping the eggs up and putting them on the buttered sourdough. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

voice bringing my defenses down. I'd never have expected it a year ago, but now . . . after seeing him lose everything to follow his heart, I could. I could accept his comfort, show my vulnerability - even if it might not last. The undeniable truth was, he was meant for better things than me. One day Ellasbeth would have him, and I'd be left with the memory of who he had wanted to be. "Rachel?" But I'd be damned if I didn't take what I could of the time we had. Catching my tears, I wiped my face, giving Trent a thankful smile as I pulled back and looked for Bis. The little gargoyle had his wings draped around him, looking like a devil himself. "Bis? Can you jump her to Trent's? ~ Kim Harrison

We walked the circuit, passing the food stands frying funnel cakes and burgers, and the game booths, ceilings bristling with giant, multicolored stuffed animals. I paused in front of the crossbow game.
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. "Want me to win you a stuffed bunny?"
"Ha." I rubbed my hands together. "I'll win my own stuffed bunny, thanks very much."
Nicholas passed the attendant a few dollars to pay for my turn. "I guess it's nice to see you use your legendary aim for something other than breaking my nose," he teased.
"The night is young," I snapped back, lifting the plastic crossbow. "This is a pathetic weapon," I muttered. "I couldn't stake an undead mouse with this thing."
"It's supposed to be a game, remember?" he whispered, laughter in his dark voice.
I fired my three shots, all crowding into the bull's-eye. With a triumphantly smug toss of my head, I looked at the openmouthed attendant. "I want the purple bunny."
He tugged it down and passed it over to me. I slipped it into my bag while Nicholas shook his head.
"Dump this loser, Lucy, and run away with me. You'll never have to win your own cross-eyed bunny again."
I grinned up at Nicholas's brother Quinn, who was smiling his charming smile, his arm draping casually over my shoulder. Hunter rolled her eyes at me from my other side.
"No way," I said. "My aim's better than yours. Plus, your girlfriend can hurt me."
"Ooh," Quinn said, winking. "Catfight. Hot." He grinn ~ Alyxandra Harvey

Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), you don't know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is not because she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?"

"I do indeed, sir."

"Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat--your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me. ~ Charlotte Bronte

He cocked his neck from one side to the other as if trying to stretch the muscles. A long huff escaped from his mouth. "I've always told myself that when I have kids, I'm gonna to spoil the shit out of 'em."

I couldn't help but smile, though I kept my gaze forward. Dex as a dad? A bad-mouthed dad?

Dex smiled right then, morphing something inside of me that I couldn't completely recognize. The moment and intent was too heavy for me to bear. I didn't want to think of what all this honesty was doing to my insides. "You know what?"

He grunted.

"Your kids will probably come out of the womb saying the f-bomb."

"Fuck," he laughed loudly, confirming my guess. "You're probably right, babe."

I tilted my face to look at him, meeting those blue eyes that I knew even without the light, were the brightest blue I'd ever seen. "Little f-bomb dropping hell raisers. I can totally see it. ~ Mariana Zapata

So, you care about me now,' I said, meaning to make a joke of it, but it came out soft and low and full of something guttural that made me embarrassed. 'Why?'
"Because I don't know anybody like you. You're like … a rare artefact. And it would be a shame if you got broken.' Amusement spluttered from me in the most unattractive way. 'Are you really comparing me to an antique right now? Oh my God, you nerd."
He started laughing, and the carefree melody of it swept me up until I was laughing too, and it was absurd because our families were being threatened and murdered and there we were squished together in a hundred-degree heat outside a maximum security prison, and we used to hate each other and now we were laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes.
He composed himself first, but it took a while and I was left choking my laughter into silence. 'What I meant was,' his face twisted into a quiet smile that felt secret and deadly, 'you're a bright spark, Sophie. And I don't want anyone to snuff you out.'
'Oh.' Well I couldn't make fun of that. Was I supposed to say something back? Wasn't that how compliments worked? The silence was growing and suddenly his words felt heavy and important and he was so close to me and I was perspiring and panicking, and … and I said, 'And you're kind of like a snowflake.'
Oh, Jesus Christ.
He masked his fleeting surprise with a quirked eyebrow. 'Excuse me?'
'Nothing,' I said quickly. 'I didn't say anything.'
'No ~ Catherine Doyle

Tell me, now, fairy as you are, - can't you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?"
It would be past the power of magic, sir;" and, in thought, I added,"a loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough; or rather, your sternness has a power beyond beauty." Mr. Rochester had sometimes read my unspoken thoughts with an acumen to me incomprehensible: in the presnt instance he took no notice of my abrupt vocal response; but he smiled at me with a certain smile he had of his own, and which he used but on rare occasions. He seemed to think too good for common purpose: it was the real sunshine of feeling-he shed it over me now. ~ Charlotte Bronte

Taking care of those you love should never feel like a burden to you. It should never be a burden to you. If it is, you don't have the right heart about it, and you're taking all those beautiful things around you for granted. Sure, everything won't always be roses, but a family is one of the most precious things you can have.

You might have to work your fingers to the bone. You might struggle. You might have to get up and smile, even when you don't feel like smiling. You may have to tell your family that things will be okay, even if you feel like you are falling apart. However, you're not the only one who sees what you're going through. You are never alone, and happiness is something you can choose even when things are going in the opposite direction of where you thing you need to be headed. Choose to see the blessings around you, instead of the bad things. It's a privilege, and something you may not always have, so treasure it. Cherish every moment like the gift it is, and work with a generous and privileged heart.

(Note: Inspired by the quote in the movie 'Me Again' that says, "It's not a burden, but a privilege.") ~ Jennifer Megan Varnadore

A smile spread across Amy's face. "Bryce Elliot did you make breakfast for yourself and Sophie?"
"Maybe," he said softly and with more volume, "You'll never get me to tell! ~ Micalea Smeltzer

She frowned at the message on his T-shirt: IT ONLY
SEEMS KINKY THE FIRST TIME.
"It was a gift," he said.
"From Satan?"
Something that looked almost like a smile flickered across his face and then disappeared. "You don't like it, you know what you can do about it." He
cleared another snarl of water hyacinths.
"What if a child saw that shirt?"
"Seen any kids today?" He shifted his weight slightly on the seat. "You're making me sorry I lost my favorite one." She turned back to the bow. "I
don't want to hear."
"It says, 'I'm al for gay marriage as long as both bitches are hot. ~ Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Arin hauled her to her feet. And even though he had seen her choice, must have seen it still blazing on her face, he shook her. He kept saying the words he had been shouting as he had neared the railing. "Don't, Kestrel. Don't."
His hands cradled her face.
"Don't touch me," she said.
Arin's hands fell. "Gods," he said hoarsely.
"Yes, it would be rather unfortunate for you, wouldn't it, if you lost your little bargaining chip against the general? Never fear." She smiled a brittle smile. "It turns out that I am a coward."
Arin shook his head. "It's harder to live. ~ Marie Rutkoski

But more than anything ... thank you for loving me. Thank you for your dimpled smile and your bottle caps. ~ Gail McHugh

I saw them," he said.
I frowned. "Saw what?"
He took a deep breath as he eyed me. "The paintings."
For a moment, I didn't get where he was going with this. Not when he traced the curve of my cheek with his thumb and not when a soft smile curved his lips. And then it hit me.
"The paintings?" I swallowed and started to sit up, but he didn't let me get very far. "The paintings at my place?" When he nodded, I felt my face heat like I was out under the summer sun. "The ones that are . . . ?"
"Of me?" he supplied.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Oh my God. Seriously?"
"Yes."
Mortified, I didn't know what to say. "They were in my closet. Why were you in my closet?"
"Looking for a psycho stalker," he answered.
My eyes popped opened. "That . . . that was like two weeks ago! You saw them back then and didn't say anything."
Reece sat up, bringing me with him. Somehow my body ended up between his legs and we were face-to-face. "I didn't say anything, because I figured you'd respond this way."
"Of course I'd respond this way! It's embarrassing. You probably think I'm some kind of freak. A stalker - a creepy stalker who paints pictures of you when you're not around."
"I don't think you're a stalker, babe." His voice was dry.
I screwed up my face. "I can't believe you saw them."
He chuckled, and my eyes narrowed on him. "Honestly? I really didn't know how you truly felt about me until I saw them."
My brows flew up. "I ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Help me. Please?"
She gave him an abashed nod (but not nearly so
abashed as she ought) and turned to Harriet. "I think that Lord Winstead refers to the rhyming qualities of the title." Harriet blinked a few times. "It doesn't rhyme."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Elizabeth burst out. " Finstead Winstead?"
Harriet's gasp very nearly sucked the air from the room. "I never noticed!" she exclaimed.
"Obviously," her sister drawled.
"I must have been thinking about you when I wrote
the play," Harriet said to Daniel. From her expression, he gathered he was meant to feel flattered, so he tried to smile. ~ Julia Quinn

What the hell was that?" one of them asked.

"Jackal," Irene stated quietly while watching city streets turn to suburb.
They weren't taking her to a main airport but a small airstrip. One built
exclusively for private planes.

"Did she just call us jackals?" one of them joked.

Irene grinned which wiped the smile off the man's face. "No. I said the howl
you heard was jackal." She looked at Jenny. "They'll be coming for you."

Jenny glanced at the men and back at her. She looked terribly concerned she
had a lunatic in the car with her. "The jackals will be coming for me?"

"No. The wolves."

Jenny sighed. "Why oh why do I always get the nutcases?"

"Oh!" Irene pointed excitedly. "See that spot up there?"

"What about it?"

"That's where it all started. Where I crossed the Rubicon."

Exasperated, Jenny snarled, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"It's feeding time," Irene whispered.


"That's it." Jenny threw up her hands. "We're so medicating her. ~ Shelly Laurenston

So look," he began, leaning over the desk, "I was - "
"Excuse me?" Bethany said. Her voice was loud, even.
Wes turned and looked at her. As he did so, I watched his profile, his arm, that little bit of the heart in
hand peeking out from his sleeve.
"We can help you over here," Bethany said to him. "Did you have a question?"
"Um, sort of," Wes said, glancing at me, a mild smile on his face. "But - "
"I can answer it," Bethany said solidly, so confidently. Amanda, beside her, nodded, seconding this.
"Really, it's fine," he said, then looked at me again. He raised his eyebrows, and I just shrugged. "Okay,
so - "
"She's only a trainee, she won't know the answer," Bethany told him, pushing her chair over closer to
where he was, her voice too loud, bossy even. "It's better if you ask me. Or ask us."
Then, and only then, did I see the tiniest flicker of annoyance on Wes's face. "You know," Wes said, "I
think she'll know it."
"She won't. Ask me."
Now it wasn't just a flicker. Wes looked at me, narrowing his eyes, and for a second I just stared back.
Whatever happens, I thought, happens. For the first time, time at the info desk was flying.
"Okay," he said slowly, moving down the counter. He leaned on his elbows, closer to Bethany, and she
sat up even straighter, readying herself, like someone onJeopardy awaiting the Daily Double. "So here's
my question."
Amanda picked up a pen, as if there ~ Sarah Dessen

Being stuck in here sucks, and I'm scared. But I appreciate you. Nurses are in and out of here all day, but no one takes the time you do to make me feel comfortable. I notice you tidying my messes and watering my stupid flowers, and it means a lot. So...thank you.
–HJP>
I read it again. And again. My throat closed. Other patients had made me feel this way, my little dude Jason being the most recent, but knowing that I'd successfully made Harrison feel comfortable, feel special... knowing a man who wrote beautiful words for a living had taken the time to write to me, just for doing my job...
I ran my thumb over the three letters that made up his initials.
I looked up at him. His right hand rested on his face, palm flat, fingers touching the curve of skin between his lips and jaw. With the smallest smile imaginable, he moved his arm down and out toward me.
Thank you ~ Peter Styles

And I'm not sensitive at all, Philip. Just
mean."
He smiled down at her. "Have you ever considered having an affair with a younger
man?"
She laughed, taking the compliment as it was meant. "You're a charmer. Since you amuse
me, I'll give you a little advice. Charm doesn't work on Addy. Patience might."
"I appreciate it," Philip said. He was watching Adrianne when she lifted a hand to her
throat and found it bare. He saw her instant of surprise and confusion, then the tightly
controlled temper as she zeroed in on him. With a smile he sent her a nod of
acknowledgment. Her necklace of faux diamonds and sapphires was resting comfortably
in his pocket.
The bastard. The low, slimy bastard. He'd stolen from her. He'd lifted the necklace right
off her throat without her feeling a thing but the pumping of her pulse. Then he'd taunted
her. He'd looked right at her and grinned.
He was going to pay for it, Adrianne thought as she tossed her gloves into her shoulder
bag. And he was going to pay for it tonight.
She knew it was reckless. ~ Nora Roberts

That doesn't sound fair," says Peter. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."
Four stares at him for a few seconds and then laughs. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?"
The crowd of initiates parts to make way for him as he walks toward Peter, folds his arms,and says,in a deadly voice, "I understand why you're worried, Peter.The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward."
Peter stares back,expressionless.
"So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls in a smile.
Will puts his arm around me. Christina's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. And somewhere within me,I find a smile too. ~ Veronica Roth

That miserable son of a bitch!" he bit out between clenched teeth. "After eleven years he's going to have it his way. And all because I couldn't keep my hands off her."
The vicar could scarcely conceal his joyous relief. "There are worse things than having to marry a wonderful young woman who also had the excellent judgment to fall in love with you," he pointed out.
Ian almost, but not quite, smiled at that. The impulse passed in an instant, however, as reality crushed down on him, infuriating and complicated. "Whatever she felt for me, it was a long time ago. All she wants now is independence."
The vicar's brows shot up, and he chuckled with surprise. "Independence? Really? What an odd notion for a female. I'm sure you'll be able to disabuse her of such fanciful ideas."
"Don't count on it."
"Independence is vastly overrated. Give it to her and she'll hate it," he suggested.
Ian scarcely heard him; the fury at having to capitulate to his grandfather was building inside him again with terrible force. "Damn him!" he said in a murderous underbreath. "I'd have let him rot in hell, and his title with him."
Duncan's smile didn't fade as he said with asperity, "It's possible that it's fear of 'rotting in hell,' as you so picturesquely phrased it, that has made him so desperate to affirm you now as his heir. ~ Judith McNaught

Nearing two a.m., Liam stretched and yawned, smiling at me. "Don't you have jet-lag or something? I've kept you up too late." His smile was impossible not to reciprocate. I could feel a smile blossoming unwillingly across my face.
"It's okay. Your mom paid me to stay up and talk to you."
He didn't even miss a beat. "Well that's good, since Emily sent a check over in advance for my services to keep you out of trouble. ~ Megan Curd

She felt as if she had been crying without end for minutes now.
Yet this parting, this final farewell ...
Aelin looked at Chaol and Dorian and sobbed. Opened her arms to them, and wept as they held each other.
"I love you both," she whispered. "And no matter what may happen, no matter how far we may be, that will never change."
"We will see you again," Chaol said, but even his voice was thick with tears.
"Together," Dorian breathed, shaking. "We'll rebuild this world together."
She couldn't stand it, this ache in her chest. But she made herself pull away and smile at their tear-streaked faces, a hand on her heart. "Thank you for all you
have done for me."
Dorian bowed his head. "Those are words I'd never thought I'd hear from you."
She barked a rasping laugh, and gave him a shove. "You're a king now. Such
insults are beneath you."
He grinned, wiping at his face.
Aelin smiled at Chaol, at his wife waiting beyond him. "I wish you every happiness," she said to him. To them both.
Such light shone in Chaol's bronze eyes - that she had never seen before.
"We will see each other again," he repeated.
Then he and Dorian turned toward their horses, toward the bright day beyond the castle gates. Toward their kingdom to the south. Shattered now, but not forever.
Not forever. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I congratulate you," said he, in the tone which one uses for a reprimand. "You did not vote for the death of the king, after all."

The old member of the Convention did not appear to notice the bitter meaning underlying the words "after all." He replied. The smile had quite disappeared from his face.

"Do not congratulate me too much, sir. I did vote for the death of the tyrant."

It was the tone of austerity answering the tone of severity.

"What do you mean to say?" resumed the Bishop.

"I mean to say that man has a tyrant,--ignorance. I voted for the death of that tyrant. That tyrant engendered royalty, which is authority falsely understood, while science is authority rightly understood. Man should be governed only by science."

"And conscience," added the Bishop.

"It is the same thing. Conscience is the quantity of innate science which we have within us. ~ Victor Hugo

He wants to know, "Why would you fuck up Tris's Barbies?" and now I'm like, Shit, is this the price of the sacrifice for Caroline passing out unexpectedly early - that Nick has taken over the melancholy stage that usually follows Caroline's inquisitive one? "I have three sisters and I know that's some serious business, messing with another girl's Barbies." Okay, maybe he's not being melancholy because his sarcastic smile lets me know he's back to being standard-issue band-boy irony creature. Damn him that it somewhat makes me wanna jump his bones. ~ David Levithan

When yet another woman old enough to be his grandmother headed Reyes off and demanded his attention before he could get to me, I giggled at the forced smile on his face. She flirted, batted her lashes, and patted his biceps about twelve times too many for his comfort. He took out his phone and typed as the woman spoke to him, her movements exaggerated. I couldn't be certain but I had a feeling she was talking to him about how she used to be a pole dancer until her hip gave out.

My phone chimed. I took it out of the delicate clutch that matched my dress and read Reyes's text.

Aren't you going to save me?

I don't know. I'm having a lot of fun right now. Wanna sext?

He crossed an arm over his chest while holding his phone. One corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned back against the tree and typed.

Absolutely.

Sweet. What are you wearing?

His eyes sparkled with mirth.

Animal print boxers and striped socks

I burst out laughing, gaining the attention of everyone around me. ~ Darynda Jones

My eyes drift back to Peter, and he looks up and sees me looking at him, and raises his eyebrows questioningly. I just smile and shake my head.
"So don't get bangs?"
My phone buzzes in my purse. It's Peter.

Do you want to go?

No.

Then why were you staring at me?

Because I felt like it.

Lucas is reading over my shoulder. I push him away, and he shakes his head and says, "Are you guys really texting each other when you're only twenty feet away?"
Pammy crinkles up her nose and says, "So adorable."
I'm about to answer them when I look up and see Peter sweeping across the room toward me with purpose. "Time to get my girl home," he says.
"What time is it?" I say. "Is it that late already?" Peter's hoisting me off the couch and helping me into my jacket. Then he pulls me by the hand and leads me through Gabe's living room. Looking over my shoulder, I wave and call out, "Bye, Lucas! Bye, Pammy! For the record, I think you would look great with bangs!"
"Why are you walking so fast?" I ask as Peter marches me through the front yard to the curb where his car is parked.
He stops in front of the car, pulls me toward him, and kisses me, all in one fast motion. "I can't concentrate on my cards when you stare at me like that, Covey."
"Sorry," I start to say, but he is kissing me again, his hands firm on my back. ~ Jenny Han

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

You love me?"
He smiled. "Fuck yeah."
"I'm glad, because it's rare for one-sided relationships to work out well."
His smile widened. "Is that your very poor way of telling me you love me?"
"It was pretty poor, wasn't it? ~ Suzanne Wright

Finn, what am I going to do with you?" His smile is an easy glide, but his eyes hold mine a beat too long. "Keep me. I'm pretty sure I'm good for no one else. ~ Kristen Callihan

He released her with obvious reluctance and shoved open his door, then came around to open her door. His chivalry brought an even broader smile. "Bet this doesn't last long", she teased. He took her hand. "You keep waiting for me to open it, and I will keep coming around. ~ Colleen Coble

Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they look for a place to dump it. And if you let them, they'll dump it on you. So when someone wants to dump on you, don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Believe me. You'll be happier. ~ David J. Pollay

Indeed," Arthur said. "But ... no one has said I'll be a good king. It would be a relief to know I don't go mad or bad before the end."
Alex sighed, but with a smile. She knew Arthur was prying information out of her just to tease her, but two could play this game.
"You're a good king, don't worry," she said, and then looked sadly to the ground. "At least you are once you heal from ... the incident."
"What incident?" Arthur asked.
Alex shook her head somberly. "Well, if Merlin hasn't told you, then I probably shouldn't."
"Oh, right - the incident," he said, pretending to know. "Old Merlin's told me about that plenty of times."
"Good," Alex said. "So you know all about the leeches."
Arthur gulped. "Yes ... I do," he said nervously.
"Luckily by then you've already been captured by the Saxons and your legs have been ripped off," Alex said. "So there aren't too many leech wounds."
Arthur gulped. "It's the definition of luck," he said.
"It's a shame you lose both your arms in the battle before you get captured," Alex said. "But you aren't known as Arthur the Limbless for nothing."
"Arthur the Limbless? "
"Oh, yes," Alex said. "A lesser king would have let the title belittle him, but you still manage to instill fear in all your enemies. Then again, that could be because of your future wife, Queen Girtha. Of course, Merlin has told you about her ..."
"Naturally," Arthur said. "She's that nasty woman, right? So hideous, ~ Chris Colfer

What are you doing?"
"Activating it."
"Uh ... No you're not." I jerk my hand away. "You're not activating anything until I get some answers."
"Yeah, I am. If I don't activate it, it explodes." He sounds dead serious.
"For real?"
He doesn't answer, and that pisses me off. But I can't be certain it isn't for real, and since I'm fond of having a hand at the end of my arm, I offer my wrist. He finishes running his fingers over the screen.
I change direction and ask, "Would the bracelet really have exploded if you didn't activate it?"
There's a slight pause that makes me think I've surprised him by shifting topics. Good. Better that I have him on his toes than he have me on mine.
"No," he says, and I think the corners of his mouth twitch in the hint if a smile. ~ Eve Silver

Heaven's Door"

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

Over mountains and valleys, each sandy shore.

I'd find the stairway, soaring through clouds,

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

I'd arrive at the door of glimmering gold,

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

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

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

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

I'd search every corner until I found you.

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

As you danced and you twirled, without any care.

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

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

I'd stay my hand from touching your face,

From calling your name, to feel your embrace.

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

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

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

A pain in my heart, my spirit in grief.

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

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

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

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

- Elsie ~ Tillie Cole

At some unseen signal the long line of guards around me stopped and their spears thudded to the floor with a noise that sounded like doom.
Then a tall figure with a long black cloak walked past us, plumed and coroneted helm carried in his gloved right hand. For a moment I didn't recognize the Marquis; somewhere along the way he'd gotten rid of his anonymous clothing and was now clad in a long black battle tunic, Remalna's crowned sun stitched on its breast. At his side hung his sword; his hair was braided back. He passed by without so much as a glance at me. His eyes were slack lidded, his expression bored.
He stopped before a dais, on which was a throne made of carved wood--a piece of goldwood so beautifully veined with golds and reds and umbers it looked like fire--and bowed low.
I was tempted to try hopping on my one good foot in order to get a glimpse of the enemy on the throne, but I didn't--and a moment later was glad I hadn't, for I saw the flash of a ring as Galdran waved carelessly at the guards. The four in front promptly stepped to each side, affording a clear field of vision between the King and me. I saw a tall, massively built man whose girth was running to portliness. Long red hair with gems braided into it, large nose, large ears, high forehead, pale blue eyes. He wore a long, carefully cultivated mustache. His mouth stretched in a cruel smile.
"So you won your wager, Shevraeth, eh?" he said. The tone was jovial, but there was an ugly edge ~ Sherwood Smith

I tell him I'd better get going, because Margot's coming home from Scotland tonight, and I want to stock the fridge with all her favorite foods.
Peter's face falls. "You don't want to hang out a little longer? I can take you to the store."
"I still have to clean up the upstairs, too," I say, standing up.
He tugs on my shirt and tries to pull me back onto the bed. "Come on, five more minutes."
I lie back down next to him and he cuddles in close, but I'm still thinking about the yearbook. I've been working on his scrapbook for months; the least he can do is write me a nice yearbook message.
"This is good practice for college," he murmurs, pulling me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. "The beds are small at UVA. How big are the beds at UNC?"
My back to him, I say, "I don't know. I didn't get to see the dorms."
He tucks his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. "That was a trick question," he says, and I can feel him smile against my neck. "To check and see if you visited a random UNC guy's dorm room with Chris. Congrats, you passed the test."
I can't help but laugh. ~ Jenny Han

One morning after waking up on his 10th birthday, Timmy told his mom, "I had a dream that you gave me a BB gun for my birthday. What do you think that dream means?" "You'll know what it means tonight," Timmy's mom said with an encouraging smile. That night, after the birthday cake, Timmy's mom came in with a long narrow package and gave it to her son. Timmy tore the box open. Finally I get a BB gun, he thought. But he thought wrong. The box was empty except for a book called The Meaning of Dreams. ~ Bart King

All the dying that summer began with the death of a child, a boy with golden hair and thick glasses, killed on the railroad tracks outside New Bremen, Minnesota, sliced into pieces by a thousand tons of steel speeding across the prairie toward South Dakota. His name was Bobby Cole. He was a sweet-looking kid and by that I mean he had eyes that seemed full of dreaming and he wore a half smile as if he was just about to understand something you'd spent an hour trying to explain. I should have known him better, been a better friend. He lived not far from my house and we were the same age. But he was two years behind me in school and might have been held back even more except for the kindness of certain teachers. He was a small kid, a simple child, no match at all for the diesel-fed drive of a Union Pacific locomotive. It ~ William Kent Krueger

School went exactly as Violet thought it would: weird. It wasn't her best, and it wasn't her worst, day ever. It was just weird.
Jay was true to his word, deciding not to hold anything back. And it started the second they got out of the car, when he claimed her hand and refused to let go, even when Violet tugged and pulled to try to get it away from him. He ignored her mute protests and held on tight, smiling more to himself than to her, and paraded her right into the school like that.
Not that they'd never held hands before, because they had. But this was entirely different, and Jay was hell-bent on making sure that everyone knew it. And just in case anyone wondered what the hand-holding actually meant, he made sure to clear things up for them by planting a big, albeit very satisfying, kiss on her lips, right in the middle of the hallway. Violet didn't try to pull away from that; in fact, she was dismayed to find herself leaning into him, craving more, and not caring - at least at that moment - who might see them together.
Unfortunately that person turned out to be Chelsea. Chelsea, of all people, along with Claire, who happened to walk up at very inopportune instant.
"Well, well, well," Chelsea said in an oh-so-innocent voice. "Look what we have here, Claire-bear. It's old Jay and Violet." The unconcealed smile was embedded deep in her voice. "Only, and correct me if I'm wrong, this looks a little more than friendly, don't you think?"
"I never kiss ~ Kimberly Derting

When I didn't say anything, he came closer, dropping slowly to his haunches so we were at eye level. My eyes searched his gorgeous face and for once, I wished I could break my own damn rules. I had a feeling Braden would be able to make me forget everything for a while.
We gazed at one another for what seemed like forever, not saying a word. I was expecting a lot of questions since it must have been clear to everyone, or at least the adults at the table, that I had had a panic attack. Surely, they were all wondering why, and I really didn't want to go back out there.
"Better?" Braden finally asked softly.
Wait. Was that it? No probing questions?
"Yeah." No, not really.
He must have read my reaction to his question in my face because he cocked his head to the side, his gaze thoughtful. "You don't need to tell me."
I cracked a humorless smile. "I'll just let you think I'm bat-shit crazy."
Braden smiled back at me. "I already know that. ~ Samantha Young

I open the box, and there are notes. Notes and notes and notes. Peter's notes. Peter's notes I threw away.
"I found them when I was emptying your trash," she says. Hastily she adds, "I only read a couple. And then I saved them because I could tell they were important."
I touch one that Peter folded into an airplane. "Kitty…you know Peter and I aren't getting back together, right?"
Kitty grabs the bowl of popcorn and says, "Just read them." Then she goes into the living room and turns on the TV.
I close the hatbox and take it with me upstairs. When I am in my room, I sit on the floor and spread them out around me.
A lot of the notes just say things like "Meet you at your locker after school" and Can I borrow your chemistry notes from yesterday?" I find the spiderweb one from Halloween, and it makes me smile. Another one says, "Can you take the bus home today? I want to surprise Kitty and pick her up from school so she can show me and my car off to her friends." "Thanks for coming to the estate sale with me this weekend. You made the day fun. I owe you one." "Don't forget to pack a Korean yogurt for me!" "If you make Josh's dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it's over." I laugh out loud. And then, the one I read over and over: "You look pretty today. I like you in blue."
I've never gotten a love letter before. But reading these notes like this, one after the other, it feels like I have. It's like…it's like there's onl ~ Jenny Han

Hi." I caught a flash of his smile as he bent to kiss me. His lips were warm and his kiss was sweet. Gentle. He only deepened the kiss a little while his hand slid into my hair and his other hand curved into the small of my back.

I smiled as he pulled away. "Hi."

"That's better." He cupped my cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone. "I've missed you since yesterday. Is that weird? Does that make me one of those stalker guys?"

"Only if you follow me home. Cut off a lock of my hair while I sleep. Something like that."

"I thought I'd save that for next weekend." He bent to kiss me again but swerved at the last second to brush his lips against my cheek instead. "I have a theory about you, Emily Parker."

"You do?"

"I do." Another kiss on my cheek, and then his teeth grazed my earlobe, and I shivered. "I don't think you've ever been wooed. Have you?" The words were a low whisper in my ear, and the shiver intensified.

"Wooed?" The word felt strange in my mouth.

"Wooed," he repeated, punctuating the word with a kiss on my other cheek. "Courted. Swept off your feet. Had someone show you how you make him feel."

"I . . . I can't say that I have." That was an understatement.

"Then brace yourself." He straightened up and backed away from me a step or two. "I'm going to woo your ass off. ~ Jen DeLuca

Kiaran tosses me his coat. "Here. There's a roll of bread for you in the inner pocket. You need to eat something."

The bread is wrapped in leaves that kept it dry. I gratefully murmur my thanks that Kiaran is so practical. Between the Morrigan's attacks and worrying over the Book, I didn't even notice how famished I was.

Kiaran gathers wood for a fire and I light it with my powers. A small bit of energy I'm willing to risk because I'm so bloody tired and I've never seen Kiaran look this rough, either.

Now you know how I feel, I think wryly as I move to sit near the flames. No invulnerable, shining fae skin. No immediate healing. Just the deep bone-tiredness of mortality.

Kiaran sits opposite, as far from me as possible. The scent of burning wood must mask the scent of my blood, at least a little. His eyes flicker to me in a quick, controlled assessment. "Your wounds need binding."

I can't help but smile. "First the bread, now my wounds. Is this the Kiaran MacKay way of fussing over someone?"

"I don't fuss," Kiaran says. "I give stern instructions, like: Bind your goddamn wounds."

"I don't like overbearing men."

His mouth quirks into a sly smile. "And yet I love assertive, stubborn women."

I laugh in surprise. "God, I adore you. ~ Elizabeth May

Everything is a matter of interpretation. And that is how you will rule," he said, before handing the sword's hilt to me. "Think on what you've seen today. But do not let me influence you. Your will is yours alone."
I stared at the sword in my hand, still gleaming despite the dark. "I can promise you I won't forget."
Amar paused, his voice soft. "Memory is a riddled thing. I would caution you from making promises you cannot keep."
I moved toward the door, but Amar stopped me with a shake of his head. "Gupta will arrive in a moment to escort you." He straightened the cuffs of his sherwani jacket. "I myself have a number of duties to attend to, so I must leave."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why?"
He paused and took a step to me. Darkness, soft-edged and heavy, clung to the room. In the shadows, his smile held all the lazy grace of a cat.
"Would you miss me?"
"Curiosity inspired my question. Nothing more," I said, but even my voice was unconvinced.
"Even so, there's no greater temptation than to stay by your side."
The door swung open and a chorus of voices trickled into the room--silvery and indistinct, like whispers released through clenched teeth. Amar lingered for a moment, his lips tight as though he wanted to say something.
Then, he cupped his palms together and blew into them. When he opened his hands, a bloom of light shaped like an unopened flower bud lifted off his palm and floated into the room. Brightne ~ Roshani Chokshi

I vow that from this day forward you shall not walk alone. My strength is your protection, my heart is your shelter, and my arms are your home. I shall serve you in all those ways that you require. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. Yours is the name I whisper at the close of each day and the eyes into which I smile each morning. I give you all that is mine to give. My heart and my soul I pledge to you. You are my Chosen One, you are my mate, and you are bound to me for eternity. ~ Dana Marie Bell

That was… wow. You're so fucking good."
Zak's exhale turned into a breathless laugh. He pushed on Stitch's arm and rolled him onto his back. With his face flushed red and a big smile on his face, he looked like the happiest man alive. "You have no idea how hard it was for me not to come right away. You're so fucking hot you make me turn into a teenager," whispered Zak, landing in the covers next to Stitch. He immediately rolled closer and pulled him against his chest. The movement made sperm drip out of Stitch.
Stitch hugged Zak close and smiled back. "Did the teen-Zak wet himself over fucking a big, bad biker?" He kissed Zak's sweaty forehead. Just a few hours ago, Stitch wouldn't even consider bottoming, and now it felt like the best idea on the planet. He felt so light he could fly ~ K.A. Merikan

My prolonged study of these photographs led me to appreciate the importance of preserving certain moments for prosperity, and as time moved forwards I also came to see what a powerful influence these framed scenes exerted over us as we went about our daily lives.
To watch my uncle pose my brother a maths problem, and at the same time to see him in a picture taken thirty-two years earlier; to watch my father scanning the newspaper and trying, with a half-smile, to catch the tail of a joke rippling across the crowded room, and at that very same moment to see a picture of him to me that my grandmother had framed and frozen these memories so that we could weave them into the present.When, in the tones ordinarily preserved for discussing the founding of a nation, my grandmother spoke of my grandfather who had died so young, and pointed at the frames on the tables and the walls, it seemed that she, like me, was pulled in two direction , wanting to get on with life but also longing to capture the moment of perfection, savouring the ordinary life but still honouring the ideal. But even as I pondered these dilemmas-if you plucked a special moment from life and framed it, were you defying death, decay and the passage of time, or were you submitting to them? - I grew very bored with them. ~ Orhan Pamuk

Dear Forrest,
I am sorry there was no time for us to speech other before I left. The doctors made their decision quickly, and before I knew it, I was being taken away, but I asked if I could stop long enough to write you this note, because you have been so kind to me whileI was here.
I sense, Forrest, that you are on the verge of something very significant in your life, some change, or event that will move you in a different direction, and you must seize the moment, and not let it pass. When I think back on it now, there is something in your eyes, some tiny flash of fire that comes now and then, mostly when you smile, and , on those infrequent occasions, I believe what I saw was almost a Genesis of our ability as humans to think, to create, to be.
This war is to for you, old pal - nor me - and I am well out of it as I'm sure you will be in time. The crucial question is, what will you do? I don't think you're an idiot at all. Perhaps by the measure of tests or the judgement of fools, you might fall into some category or other, but deep down, Forrest, I have seen that glowing sparkle of curiosity burning deep in your mind. Take the tide, my friend, and as you are carried along, make it work for you, fight the shallows and the snags and never give up. You are a good fellow, forrest, and you have a big heart.
Your pal,
Dan ~ Winston Groom

I'm wondering what it would be like to be kissed by you."
"Let's not go there," he said. "I don't want to mess up our friendship."
"It wouldn't," she said, grinning suddenly. "I'd like to know how it feels. I mean, as an experiment."
"Put the wrong chemicals together, and they explode."
She frowned. "Are you saying you don't think I'd like it? Or that I would?"
"It doesn't matter, because I'm not going to kiss you."
She looked up at him shyly, from beneath lowered lashes, and gave him a cajoling smile. "Just one teeny, weeny little kiss?"
He laughed at her antics. Inside his stomach, about a million butterflies had taken flight. "Don't play games with me, Summer." He said it with a smile, but it was a warning.
One she ignored.
She crooked her finger and wiggled it, gesturing him toward her. "Come here, and give me a little kiss."
She was doing something sultry with her eyes, something she'd never done before. She'd turned on some kind of feminine heat, because he was burning up just looking at her. "Stop this," he said in a guttural voice.
She canted her hip and put her hand on it, drawing his attention in that direction, then slid her tongue along the seam of her lips to wet them. "I'm ready, bad boy. What are you waiting for?"
His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. He was hot and hard and ready. And if he touched her, he was going to ruin everything.
"I'm not going to kiss you, Summer."
He saw th ~ Joan Johnston

I do find it odd," she went on, "that you should care how Mr. Pinter feels about me. I thought all you wanted was to have some man marry me. He would be as good as any."
Gran winced. "Not if he is after your fortune. That is what happened to your mother, and I regret to this day that I did not see beneath your father's winning smiles and title to his mercenary motive."
Celia swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Well, since Mr. Pinter has no title and barely knows how to smile, you needn't worry. If he has a mercenary motive, he's hiding it well." She surreptitiously kicked her tucker under the table as she stepped forward. "Now, let's go have some tea, shall we?"
After another hard look about the room, Gran took the arm Celia offered and let her grandmother accompany her out the door. But while they walked down the corridor, Celia's mind kept stumbling over Gran's revelation.
A rich wife of rank would enhance his chances.
It wouldn't be the first time a man had pretended to find her fetching for his own reasons. But if Gran's suspicions about Jackson's motives proved true, it would definitely be the last. Because Celia would rather enter a loveless marriage with the Duke of Lyons than be used by Jackson Pinter. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

For me… it was excruciating." He closed his eyes for a moment then focused on her. "It is so painful to truly love someone so much and not have them. For years I practiced tolerating that pain. Around the time I was sixteen I could finally stand to look at you. So, I did, all the damn time. I watched you so carefully. I captured every smile, every frown, every tear from you. I wanted you… but I couldn't have you. Then one day we became friends and
the pain came back, but I didn't care because you were my friend, my best friend. But when you kissed me, I realized the feeling I had before was nothing compared to what I felt when we kissed. I felt alive… and guilty and betrayed, because it's not fair. It's not fair for me to go through that… to want to kiss you every day, every hour, every minute for the rest of my miserable life, but I want to. I'm afraid that it will get to a point where I need to. I have been in love with you since I was eight years old. I have hated the way my father has treated me, but nothing has hurt me as much as the pain of my mother's death except seeing you and my brother in bliss. What I want is for you to stay in this room with me. I want to feel how you feel, taste how you taste, and completely fall in you because I'm just… tired of always wanting what I can't have. I want to make you smile, make you happy… I want to be inside you… I want to give you pleasure in every way… mind, body, and soul… I am completely, madly… and utterly in love with ~ Chelsea Ballinger

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

Someone asked me the other day - 'could you tell me, what is right human living' - I put my hand on his shoulder and asked him to sit beside me, with a gentle smile on my face, then uttered softly, 'I don't know your religious belief or disbelief, I don't know your professional background, I don't know your economic or social status, all I need to know is that you are a human being, a reflection of my own self, so I treat you with kindness and acceptance, same as I treat myself'. The world is flooded with judgments and opinions - for once my friend, take a step beyond that flood, and you shall see a beautiful world, where being human is a beautiful thing - in that world being human is all that matters. ~ Abhijit Naskar

You can't see the forest for the trees, Kanade. You say you don't do anything for him ... So then tell me why Arou always gets that grin on his face when you're around? Forget about what those girls say ... and trust in Arou's smile. ~ Sakura Tsukuba

Mom," Vaughn said. "I'm sure Sidney doesn't want to be interrogated about her personal life."

Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn - who'd obviously deduced that she'd been burned in the past - was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn't want him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn't any better than the damn "Poor Sidney" head-tilt.

"It's okay, I don't mind answering." She turned to Kathleen. "I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago."

"So now that you're single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?" Kathleen pointed. "Could you pass the creamer?"

He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother's questions.

She never had been very good at resisting his dares.

"Actually, I have a list of things I'm looking for." Sidney took a sip of her coffee.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You have a list?"

"Yep."

"Of course you do."

Isabelle looked over, surprised. "You never told me about this."

"What kind of list?" Kathleen asked interestedly.

"It's a test, really," Sidney said. "A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commit ~ Julie James

I'ma do my thing until the day the reaper come for me. You can keep on grillin', I'ma smile back. ~ Mac Miller

I wanted to apologize."
His gaze lifted from her bosom. He remembered those breasts in his hands. "For what?"
"For deceiving you as I did. I misunderstood the nature of our relationship and behaved like a spoiled little girl. It was a terrible mistake and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
A terrible mistake? A mistake to be sure, but terrible? "There is nothing to forgive," he replied with a tight smile. "We were both at fault."
"Yes," she agreed with a smile of her own. "You are right. Can we be friends again?"
"We never stopped." At least that much was true. He might have played the fool, might have taken advantage of her, but he never ceased caring for her. He never would.
Rose practically sighed in relief. Grey had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face. "Good. I'm so glad you feel that way. Because I do so want your approval when I find the man I'm going to marry."
Grey's lips seized, stuck in a parody of good humor. "The choice is ultimately yours, Rose."
She waved a gloved hand. "Oh, I know that, but your opinion meant so much to Papa, and since he isn't here to guide me, I would be so honored if you would accept that burden as well as the others you've so obligingly undertaken."
Help her pick a husband? Was this some kind of cruel joke? What next, did she want his blessing?
She took both of his hands in hers. "I know this is rather premature, but next to Papa you have been the most important man in ~ Kathryn Smith

Oria and I walked into the kitchen to find Julen staring at a handsome young man with curly black hair and fine new livery in Astiar colors.
His chin was up, and he swept a cool glance over us all as he said, "My errand is with my lady, the Countess of Tlanth."
"I am she." I stepped forward.
He gave me one incredulous look, then hastily smoothed his face as he bowed low. In the background, Julen clucked rather audibly. Next to me Oria had her arms crossed, her face stony. The young man looked about with the air of one who knows himself in unfriendly territory, and I reflected that for all his airs my brother had hired him or he wouldn't be here, and he deserved a chance to present himself fair.
"Surely you'll have been warned that we are very informal here," I said, and gave him a big smile.
And for some reason he flushed right up to his fine hairline. Bowing again, he said courteously, "My lady, I was to give this directly to you."
I held out one hand, noticed the dirt smudges, and hastily wiped it on my clothes before putting it out again. When I glanced up at the equerry, I saw in his eyes just a hint of answering amusement at the absurdity of the situation, though his face was strictly schooled when he handed me the letter.
"Welcome among us. What is your name?" I said.
"Jerrol, as it pleases you, my lady." And again the bow.
"Well, it's your name if it pleases me or not," I said, sitting on the edge of the great slate prep tab ~ Sherwood Smith

We have to get a crew together to meet up after school today."
"Ouch," Finn said. "Well, you've come to the right place."
They looked out across the cafeteria, where hundreds of their peers sat and ate, just waiting to be tapped for after-school labor.
"I guess I should get started," Megan said.
"What about Doug?" Finn asked.
"It's just a gut instinct, but I don't think he's going to be much help," Megan replied, walking backward. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," Finn said with a smile. ~ Kate Brian

What is this, Enki?" says the Queen. "Do you not honor me?"
Enki's smile is wide and bright. "I give you the greatest honor," he says.
"You are dressed in the manner of a slave," says she, "in a city where there are none."
"There aren't," he agrees, though now his smile seems too sharp for his words. "But there is the verde."
"And what of it?"
"I am dressed in the manner of my people."
"Are we not your people?" And we see that the Queen is torn between amusement and anger. Enki is leading her in a dance, but has not tapped out its rhythm.
"You are everything to me."
"And yet you come before us hardly as a king."
"I come before you," says Enki, "as a simple verde boy." He takes a quick step back, almost skipping, and his dust-lightened hair bobs around his ears. "I will leave you as a king." And when the drums start, that's how he dances: as a king. ~ Alaya Dawn Johnson

Do you live in Ellsberg?" I asked as he flipped from channel to channel too quickly to really be looking for anything to watch.
"Yes."
"Did you grow up there?"
"No."
"Do you like it there?"
"Sure."
"Do you think I'll like it there?"
"Your sister is shacked up with the prince of the fucking place. I'm sure you'll live a pretty sweet life in Ellsberg."
"Are the people friendly there?"
"Not really. Maybe two percent of the people are."
"So the other ninety eight percent are like you?"
Judd grinned. "Sounds about right. You should fit in."
"How am I not friendly?"
"You got a look about you. Like the little girl act is a con and you'll shiv me while I sleep."
"It's getting late, so I guess we'll see."
Smiling growing, he watched the TV, instead of me. "I'm sleeping in here next to my weapons and keeping one eye open. You best mess someone else, little girl."
"I'm not feeling great, so I'll probably wait to shiv you until I'm up to all the laughing and pointing I'll want to do after I get the drop on you."
Judd laughed. "You would mock me afterwards, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. You're a big guy. Fast and strong too. If I take you down, I'm totally enjoying the triumph."
"Good for you," he said quietly, a smile on his lips and a strange look in his eyes. ~ Bijou Hunter

You always look so damn happy to see me," he said, low. "And it's like a fist in my gut, every time. I wait for it not to happen, for you to get used to me, or maybe you're tired or you had a bad day, so you're in no mood to shine, but no. There's always that smile." - Ty, Chapter Twenty-One ~ Ann Aguirre

Mia, stop!" My voice bounces off her bedroom walls. "We are not in high school anymore!"

She looks at me, a question hanging in the air.

"Look, my tour doesn't start for another week."

A feather of hope starts to float across the space between us.

"And you know, I was thinking I was craving some sushi."

Her smile is sad and rueful, not exactly what I was going for. "You'd come to Japan with me?"

"I'm already there. ~ Gayle Forman

Lucian attempted a wan smile, although he did not open his eyes. "You are the miracle my brother has named you in his thoughts."
"Has he named me a miracle?" Even her voice was soothing and tranquil to Gabriel's ears. He wanted to touch her, bask forever in her beauty, in her serenity. After the chaos of a bleak, gray world filled with violence, she was a miracle.
"Yes, and for once, he was right." There was an edge of weariness to the beautiful pitch of Lucian's voice and it alarmed Gabriel. He had never heard his invincible twin sound so utterly drained of strength.
"I am right at all times," Gabriel corrected, moving at once to his brother's side. "It is a peculiar phenomenon Lucian finds difficult to live with, but all the same . . ."
Lucian opened his eyes to regard his brother with an icy stare clearly meant to intimidate. "Francesca, my dear sister, you have tied yourself to one who has a much inflated opinion of himself. I do not remember a time when he was right about anything."
Gabriel moved to the couch, seating himself beside his brother. "Do not listen to him, my love, he practices his intimidating stare in the mirror on a daily basis. He thinks to silence me with his glare. ~ Christine Feehan

I hurried to the end of the Iron Wing and opened the door.
Where I found myself face-to-face with Anne-Whatever-Whatever herself.
I pulled my hand back to punch her. "What are you - " she started, when her eyes went wide and she collapsed on the ground, revealing Tasey in the hands of a teen boy with blond curls, blue eyes, dimples, and the most impish smile I'd ever seen.
"Hey-oh, did you miss me?" Jack asked.
Since my hand was already pulled back, I went ahead and punched Jack.
"Bloody - What was that for?" he asked, hand over his nose.
I stepped past the unconscious body of Anne-Whatever-Whatever lying on the white tile floor and snatched Tasey from the blond nightmare. "Are you kidding me? The last time I saw you, you left me for read."
"Well, yeah, there was that. But I thought rescuing you from IPCA might make up for it a bit."
"I'm in the middle of rescuing myself," I snapped.
"And how were you planning on getting past her?" He nudged the prone body with a none-too-gentle foot.
"Improvising."
"And once you were past her, you were going to get out of here . . . how?"
"Shut up!" I turned and tried to stomp down the hall, then cringed in pain from my ankle. Okay, no dramatic stomping. I opted for emphatic limping instead, which unfortunately allowed Jack to catch up quite quickly. ~ Kiersten White

When I swung open the door, there he was: Marlboro Man, wearing Wranglers and a crisp white shirt and boots. And a sweet, heart-melting smile.
What are you doing here? I thought. You're supposed to be in the shower. You're supposed to be with the sex kitten.
"Hey," he said, wasting no time in stepping through the door and winding his arms around my waist. My arms couldn't help but drape over his strong shoulders; my lips couldn't help but find his. He felt soft, warm, safe…and our first kiss turned into a third, and a sixth, and a seventh. It was the same kiss as the night before, when the phone call alerting him to the fire had come. My eyes remained tightly closed as I savored every second, trying to reconcile the present with the horror movie I'd imagined just moments earlier. I had no idea what was going on. At that point, I didn't even care.
"Ummmmm!!! I'm t-t-t-ttellin'!" Mike teased from the top of the stairs, just before running down and embracing Marlboro Man in a bear hug.
"Hi, Mike," Marlboro Man said, politely patting him on the back.
"Mike?" I said, smiling and blinking my eyes. "Will you excuse us for a couple of minutes?"
Mike obliged, giggling and oooo-ing as he walked toward the kitchen.
Marlboro Man picked me up and brought my eyes to the level of his. Smiling, he said, "I've been trying to call you this afternoon."
"You have?" I said. I hadn't even heard the phone ring. "I, um…I sort of took a nine-hour nap."
Ma ~ Ree Drummond

I have been all over this world of ours and I have found only one truth to be universal no matter what culture, people or country, I have visited. If you there with an open hand, an open heart, a smile, and demonstrating a little respect for those you me, you will always find yourself welcome. ~ Michael Leslie

No. It couldn't be. I shook my head, still disbelieving. Maybe the poison had warped my brain and I was delusional after all. I pulled myself to my feet, swaying against Drake, allowing his warm, hard body to prop me up.

"You know what that means."

"I do." His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with intermingled anger and passion.

My heart, leaden and sick, suddenly was enveloped in a gentle warmth that did much to dispel the ills that had possessed it. "Are you sure? Really sure? It's not something else? Maybe you're sick."

His face grew harder. "Do you think I'm a fool that I could mistake it?"

"No, but you don't look very happy about it."

"I'm not," he snapped, irritation rampant on his handsome features.

A smile curved my lips as I kissed the corners of his mouth, ignoring the presence of those around us. "Are you going to say it?"

"No."

"Come on. I want to hear it."

"No!"

I allowed all the love I had for him to show in my eyes as I rubbed my nose on his. "Please?"

His face took on the most martyred expression I'd ever seen. "If I say it once, do I have to say it again?"

"Yes. With increasing frequency. It gets easier with time, honest."

He sighed again. "I knew this would not come to a good end. Very well, I'll say it. But I reserve the right to refer you to this conversation on occasions when you wish me to say it again. ~ Katie MacAlister

Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?"
At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.
Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death.
Of course I told him about you," Liesel said. ~ Markus Zusak

Justus?" she whispered. "I know it is not ladylike for me to ask, but I very much would for you to kiss me again."
Those sensuous lips of his curved in a smile that made her belly flutter. "See, you are my counterpart, for I was just going to do just that. ~ Brooklyn Ann

I know you don't like the traffic here. I'm sorry that you're burdened with this."
I muttered, "Not liking the traffic is an understatement. People don't know how to drive here. They're crazy."
"We can take back roads with the least traffic on the way, and we'll be driving only to the outskirts of Mumbai, not through the city as before. It shouldn't be too bad. You're a good driver."
"Ha, easy for you to say. You'll just sleep in the back the whole way."
Ren touched my cheek with his fingers and gently turned my face to his. "Rajkumari, I want to say thank you. Thank you for staying and helping me. You don't know what this means to me."
I mumbled, "You're welcome. And rajkumari means?"
He flashed me a brilliant white smile and deftly changed the subject. ~ Colleen Houck

The milk is long since out of date, the bread all has mold and I think you could start a bacterial plague with what's in the crisper here…"
"Order a pizza," he suggested. "There's a place down on the corner that still owes me ten pizzas, paid for in advance."
"You can't eat pizza for breakfast!"
"Why can't I? I've been doing it for a week."
"You can cook," she said accusingly.
"When I'm sober," he agreed.
She glowered at him and went back to her chore. "Well, the eggs are still edible, barely, and there's an unopened pound of bacon. I'll make an omelet."
He collapsed into the chair at the kitchen table while she made a fresh pot of coffee and set about breaking eggs.
"You look very domesticated like that," he pointed out with a faint smile. "After we have breakfast, why don't you come to bed with me?"
She gave him a shocked glance. "I'm pregnant," she reminded him.
He nodded and laughed softly. "Yes, I know. It's an incredible turn-on."
Her hand stopped, poised in midair with a spoon in it. "Wh…What?"
"The eggs are burning," he said pleasantly.
She stirred them quickly and turned the bacon, which was frying in another pan. He thought her condition was sexy? She couldn't believe he was serious.
But apparently he was, because he watched her so intently over breakfast that she doubted if he knew what he was eating.
"Mr. Hutton told the curator of the museum in Tennessee that I wasn't coming back, and he ~ Diana Palmer

And you must appear willing to marry me," Oliver said.
"I understand."
"Do you? It means you'll have to act as if you enjoy my company."
To his surprise, a small smile curved her lips. "I believe I can manage that." Then, as if realizing she was softening, she wiped the smile from her face. "But you must behave responsibly, too."
"By not trying to seduce you, you mean."
She started. "No! I mean, yes…I mean, you already said you have more urgent concerns." Alarm rose in her cheeks. "Oh dear, I forgot that you also said you have no honor or morals."
He'd made similar assertions half his life, yet tonight he regretted making them. Shocking young ladies seemed to have lost some of its appeal.
"All the same, Miss Butterfield, I promise that your virtue is safe from me." When she looked skeptical, he added, "You're not the sort of woman I prefer." A respectable woman came with strings attached.
"Of course I'm not," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Anyone can see that."
That took him aback.
She went on. "A man with no morals isn't going to want a woman who has them. She'd never let him do anything wicked."
Freddy coughed, as if choking on something. Oliver understood why. Miss Butterfield had an unnerving way of cutting everything down to its essence.
"Yes," he said, for lack of a better response. "Quite." Then he narrowed his gaze on her. "So what did you mean when you said I had to 'behave responsibly'?"
"You prom ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Max's unflinching gaze never left that house.
"What do you think's going to happen?" Jules asked him quietly, "if you let yourself peel that giant S off your shirt and take a nap? If you let yourself spend an hour, an evening, screw it, a whole weekend doing nothing more than breaking and taking enjoyment from living in the moment? What's going to happen, Max, if - after this is over - you give yourself permission to actually enjoy Gina's company? To sit with her arms around you and let yourself be happy. You don't have to be happy forever - just for that short amount of time."
Max didn't say anything.
So Jules went on. "And then maybe you could let yourself be happy again the next weekend. Not too happy," he added quickly. "We wouldn't want that. But just happy in a small way, because this amazing woman is part of your life, because she makes you smile and probably fucks like a dream and yeah - see? You are listening. Don't kill me, I was just making sure you hadn't checked out."
Max was giving him that look. "Are you done?"
"Oh, sweetie, we have nowhere to go and hours til dawn. I'm just getting started."
Shit, Max said with his body language. But he didn't stand up and walk away. He just sat there.
Across the street, nothing moved. And then it still didn't move. But once again, Max was back to watching it not move.
Jules let the silence go for an entire minute and a half. "Just in case I didn't make myself clear," he said, "I believe ~ Suzanne Brockmann

You'll do," Hemarchidas thought. "Isn't this what we always end up with? What we truly want is unreachable, so we'll make do with what is at hand. I know for you it's different. I know for you it's really me you want. You won't regret it. I'll love you for that, and for who you are. There is still a little part of me that wishes things could have been different. I'll never let you know, feel, or even suspect that, though. I'll make sure at least one of us gets what he truly wants." He noticed Arranulf was studying his face. He gave him a reassuring smile and a light peck on the lips. "It'll be all right, and I too will be all right. ~ Andrew Ashling

He slid over to me and grabbed me closer to him. My smile fell from my face with the unexpectedness of it. His hands cupped my face, his lips hovering above mine.
"You seriously want to know, Tess?"
He closed the space and claimed my mouth with an urgent, hot, delving kiss.
He smiled. "You are sexy, in your own goofball way, you're sweet and beautiful and smart and funny and, although you kiss to the point where I feel like I want to go back for seconds, you're my best friend, and that's why I don't want to tap that. ~ C.J. Duggan

You know, Dag and Claire smile a lot, as do many people I know. But I always wondered if there is something either mechanical or malignant to their smiles, for the way they keep their outer lips propped up seems a bit, not false, but protective. A minor realization hits me as I sit with the two of them. It is the realisation that the smiles that they wear in their daily lives are the same as the smiles worn by people who have been good-naturedly fleeced, but fleeced nonetheless, in public and on a New York sidewalk by card sharks, and who are unable because of social conventions to show their anger, who don't want to look like poor sports. ~ Douglas Coupland

I can't impose on my friends for too long. I'm not sure what to do." He tipped her face up and brushed a kiss across her lips. "You'll marry me, of course. As soon as it can be arranged." Her pulse skipped, and she pulled back. "Right away?" His eyes were smiling and full of love. "I'd marry you tomorrow if we could arrange it that quickly." The thought of being a family with him and Edward brought heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'd like that more than anything in the world," she said. "Tell me what to do and I'll arrange it." "There are so many things to do, I don't know where to start," she said, laughing. The smile left his face. "When, my love?" The possessiveness in his voice heated her cheeks even more. "I need at least two weeks. I have to make a dress." "I'll buy you one." "I want to make it. I'll only have one wedding day. ~ Colleen Coble

What do you think? This ought to be the right kind of place for tough guy like you. Garbage cans. Rats galore. Plenty of cat-bums to gang around with. So scram,' she said, dropping him…
'...I told you. We just met by the river one day: that's all. Independents, both of us. We never made each other any promises. We never -' she said, and her voice collapsed, a tic, an invalid whiteness seized her face. The car had paused for a traffic light. Then she had the door open, she was running down the street; and I ran after her.
...she shuddered, she had to grip my arm to stand up: 'Oh, Jesus God. We did belong to each other. He was mine.' Then I made her a promise, I said I'd come back and find her cat. 'I'll take care of him, too. I promise.'
She smiled: that cheerless new pinch of a smile. 'But what about me?' she said, whispered, and shivered again. 'I'm very scared, Buster. Yes, at last. Because it could go on forever. Not knowing what's yours until you're thrown it away. The mean reds, they're nothing... ~ Truman Capote

Francis blew out a breath. 'While I appreciate your concern, Mr. Murdock, Drucilla is not your average lady. She's a highly competent investigator who used to work for the government before she began working for Theodore. She's quite handy with a pistol, uses the fact she's a lady to lethal advantage, and I wouldn't dream of telling her I'm putting an end to anything, especially since I'm fairly certain she'd shoot me.'
Drucilla's eyes widened, and then she smiled a lovely smile. 'Why, that's the nicest thing you've ever said about me, Francis.'
'Don't let it go to your head. ~ Jen Turano

For a long moment, he held her gaze without speaking, simply letting the impact of words sink in, before adding rapidly, as though he wished to get it over with as quickly as possible, "I won't deny that you're beautiful. No mirror could tell you otherwise. But there are beautiful women for the buying in any brothel in London. Oh yes, and the ballrooms, too, if one has the proper price. It wasn't your appearance that caught me. It was the way you put me down in the gallery at Sibley Court." Vaughn's lips curved in a reminiscent smile. "And the way you tried to bargain with me after."

"Successfully bargained," Mary corrected.

"That," replied Lord Vaughn, "is exactly what I mean. Has anyone ever told you that you haggle divinely? That the simple beauty of your self-interest is enough to bring a man to his knees?"

Mary couldn't in honesty say that anyone had.

Vaughn's eyes were as hard and bright as silver coins. "Those are the reasons I want you. I want you for your cunning mind and your hard heart, for your indomitable spirit and your scheming soul, for they're more honest by far than any of the so-called virtues."

"The truest poetry is the most feigning?" Mary quoted back his own words to him.

"And the most feigning is the most true. ~ Lauren Willig

I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione with a hint of complacency.
"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives--!"
"--because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.
"This is different, pretending to be me--"
"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."
Harry did not smile.
"You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."
"Well, that's that plan scuppered," said George. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."
"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've got no chance," said Fred.
"Funny," said Harry, "really amusing. ~ J.K. Rowling

When Mrs. Casnoff saw us, she walked over to us. "Sophie," she said, her voice warmer than I'd ever heard it. "Happy birthday. It's good to see you."
I actually believed he meant it, which was weird. Weirder still was the smile she gave me as she said, "I was just talking with several of the guests about your decision not to go through with the Removal. We're all so pleased."
Great. Nothing better than my superpersonal decision being party chitchat.
"Well,that's probably a first for you," I tried to joke. When she just looked confused, I clarified. "Being pleased with me."
And then she completely freaked me out by laughing. Granted, it was a low, short laugh, but still. ~ Rachel Hawkins

I return to the sprinklers and sit down. George plunks down next to me. "Did you know that a bird-eating tarantula is as big as your hand?"
"Jase doesn't have one of those, does he?"
George gives me his sunniest smile. "No. He useta have a reg'lar tarantula named Agnes, but she" - his voice drops mournfully - "died."
"I'm sure she's in tarantula heaven now," I assure him hastily, shuddering to think what that might look like.
Mrs. Garret's van pulls in behind the motorcycle, disgorging what I assume are Duff and Andy, both red-faced and windblown. Judging by their life jackets, they've been at sailing camp.
George and Harry, my loyal fans, rave to their mother about my accomplishments, while Patsy immediately bursts into tears, points an accusing finger at her mother, and wails, "Boob."
"It was her first word." Mrs. Garret takes her from me, heedless of Patsy's damp swimsuit. "There's one for the baby book. ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick