Quote

Do you think I’m pretty?” I heard myself ask. Something I couldn’t name flashed across his face. “No. I don’t think you’re pretty. I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

Jeaniene Frost

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Jeaniene Frost
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: June 13
Author
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Ever
Seen
Something
Heard
Think
Names
Thinking
Asks
Flashed
Face
Across
Faces
Couldn
Girl
Name
Beautiful
Pretty

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Have your boyfriend add therapy bills to my expense tab.
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If these were my last moments on earth, I’d spend them fighting to save him with everything I had. If our roles were reversed, I knew he’d do the same.
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Good. If you checked your e-mail every five minutes, or keep texting and Tweeting in the middle of our conversation, I might snap your neck out of sheer principle.
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I'd address his way of trying to discourage Ian later. After all, he could have come up with something other than saying I was a whiny, smelly, trumpet-snoring bad lay.
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Next to her, I felt like Carrot Top in drag. Cat re: Annette
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Where are we going? You never told me. My home in Romania. Wow, this guy wasn’t kidding with his Dracula fixation.
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No matter what I think about this, Leila, you're my daughter, so you are not walking down that aisle alone.
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Where are you, bloodsuckers? Here, fangy, fangy, fangy...
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I’ve never been jealous before I met you, it burns, luv. Like silver through my veins. Some nights, watching you with other men on your jobs, I think it will drive me mad. (Bones)
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The servants must wait like ninjas for me to leave so they could render this place spotless again.
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You chose to come to Paris, of all places,” Mencheres replied. So what? Got something against the French?
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Gretchen shrugged. After seeing how he acted when she almost died, I'm starting to get why she's with him. Then her voice hardened. And really, Leila. That's twice now.
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Do you know what you’ve done?” I asked in a bland tone. Annette gave me an inquiring look. “You’ve gotten on my last nerve.” The table went crashing into her before she could blink, and then my fist found a home in her perfectly arranged hair.
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Kitten, this is my best mate, Charles, but you can call him Spade. Charles, this is Cat, the woman I’ve been telling you about. You can see for yourself that everything I’ve said is…an understatement.
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Isn’t he gorgeous?” With those rolls, the wet-sounding grunts, bulbous wiggly tail, and smashed face—not to mention the fart the dog let out once he situated himself—he was gorgeous in a way that only a parent could appreciate.
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The sh*t's gonna splatter, start buggin, yo... Mencheres to Cat
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That's what vampires do, Kitten. We always come for what's ours, no matter the circumstances. Bones said.
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People frequently bore me, sometimes amuse me, most often irritate me, but rarely intrigue me.
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Bones didn’t share any of my qualms about suddenly holding an arm that wasn’t attached to a body anymore. He just grabbed the ghoul by his other arm and began thumping him over the head with the loose limb. I’d heard Bones threaten to beat someone with their own limb before, but I’d always assumed that was a figure of speech. Apparently not.
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I hadn't expected to be kidnapped today or I'd have worn something more conservative.
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