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When I thought of Eric with someone else, I wanted to rip out all his beautiful blonde hair. By the roots. In clumps.
Charlaine Harris
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Charlaine Harris
Age: 72
Born: 1951
Born: November 25
Actor
Author
Camera Operator
Crime Writer
Film Producer
Karateka
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
Tunica
Mississippi
Charlaine Harris Schulz
Wanted
Eric
Blonde
Roots
Hair
Else
Beautiful
Someone
Clumps
Thought
Rip
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Episcopalians are pretty thin on the ground in the central United States.
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I snuck a look to see how Eric was taking this, and he was staring at me the same way the Monroe vampires had. Thoughtful. Hungry. That's interesting, he said. I had a psychic once. It was incredible. Did the psychic think so?
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Appius Livius Ocella made mistakes in his whole long existence. Perhaps changing Eric was his finest hour. He created the perfect vampire. Eric's only flaw is you.
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My first word for the New Year was 'exsanguinate.' This was probably not a good omen.
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The note, which had been written on one of the pads I kept around for grocery lists, said, My lover, I came in too close to dawn to wake you, though I was tempted. Your house is full of strange men. A fairy upstairs and a little child downstairs- but as long as there's not one in my lady's chamber, I can stand it.
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I stroked Eric's hair, tucking some behind his ear. His eyes on mine were intent, and I knew he was waiting for me to speak. I wish, I said, I could save orgasms in a jar for when i need them, because I think I had a few extra. Eric's eyes widened, and all of a sudden he roared with laughter. (Dead to the World)
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Not a creature was stirring, not even an elf.
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My eyes flew open, and I pushed back against rock-hard shoulders. I let out a little squeak of horror. It's me, said a familiar voice. ...Eric, what are you doing here? Snuggling.
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I hate witches. Humans had the right idea, burning them at the stake.
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I drank lots of water and orange juice and took a multivitamin and iron supplement for breakfast, which was my regimen since Bill had come into my life and brought (along with love, adventure, and excitement) the constant threat of anemia.
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Self-pity is like chocolate as you get older, you can only afford a little bit.
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Pam: Claude, the mouthwateringly beautiful asshole?
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The average woman would not be pondering how fast her date could kill her, but I’ll never be an average woman.
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I thought about making biscuits, but there seemed to be more than enough calories on board.
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My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do whatever she had to.
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Food that walked and talked, that was us. McPeople.
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The night swelled with magic not the beneficent kind of love-magic that sweeps couples away, but the kind of magic that rips and tears, the enchantment that creeps out of the woods and pounces.
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You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.
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I wish, I said. I could save orgasms in a jar for when I need them, because I think I have a few extra.
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Snow, here? Eric was as delighted as a child. I love snow! Why was I not surprised? Maybe we will get snowed in together, he said suggestively, waggling his blond eyebrows.
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