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Who cared whether you could change motor oil when you could snap a rottweiler’s neck in 2.8 seconds? Now there was a practical skill.
Kelley Armstrong
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Kelley Armstrong
Age: 56
Born: 1968
Born: December 14
Novelist
Writer
city of Sudbury
Sarah
Change
Necks
Practicals
Rottweiler
Skill
Rottweilers
Seconds
Snap
Oil
Snaps
Practical
Cared
Skills
Motor
Whether
Neck
More quotes by Kelley Armstrong
Perfect night, wasn't it? It could have been. I smiled up at him. But you were there.
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Maturity is highly overrated.
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The look she gave me reminded me of when is was seven and I'd proudly informed out housekeeper that I'd donated half my clothing to a charity drive at school. It had seemed perfectly sensible to me-I didn't need so much stuff-but she'd stared at me like Margaret was now, with a mix of horror and disbelief.
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Hello, Aaron, Brigid said, sliding up to him and running a finger down his chest. You're looking good . . . as always. Aaron lifted her finger off his shirt and let it drop. Put some clothing on, Brigid. She smiled up at him. Why? Tempted? Yeah, to cover my eyes.
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When I glanced at the chair, it started to shake. I’d like to think it was scared of me, but I rarely invoked that response in living things, let alone inanimate objects.
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The secretary moved in to block Simon as I followed Thierry into the office. As the door closed, I heard her whisper, I think it's very sweet, you sticking up for your brother like that. I'm not trying to be sweet, Simon said, raising his voice so Thierry could hear. I'm trying to be fair. But apparently no one's interested in that.
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We had one gun, one werewolf, one poltergeist, one supercharged spell-caster, one not-so-supercharged spell-caster, and one perfectly useless necromancer, though Liz was quick to remind me that she needed me to relay her words. - Chloe
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I hear voices. A shout. A laugh. Clay's laugh. I strained to see through the night. Fog had rolled in from Lake Ontario, but I could hear him laughing. The concrete turned to grass. The fog wasn't from the lake, but from a pond. Our pond. I was at Stonehaven, bounding through the back acres. Clay was running ahead of me.
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I grew up writing about the paranormal, and I blame too many Saturday mornings watching Scooby Doo.
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He was tall and scrawny with a face that could be mistaken with Keith Richards on a bad day.
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Derek? Derek!-Chole Chole! what are you doing out here? i said we will check it out later. key word WE-Derek oh, yeah I decided to come out on my own. thats why i was calling your name repeatively- Chole
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Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.
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Do I pass, Dr. Saunders?
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there are risks you'll take for yourself because you know that if your plan goes wrong, it'll be too late for regrets. but if you risk the lives of others and fail, you'll have a lifetime to regret it.
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The three Fs of being a werewolf, Feeding, Fighting, and...Reproduction
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Demon, angel, all the same thing if you go back far enough, or cut deep enough.
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As I recall, I was still dressed when I fell asleep. Just making sure you were comfortable. And making yourself equally comfortable, I see.
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His gaze travelled down me, then zipped back to my face. Sorry. Focus, Rafe. I am. Just on the wrong thing.
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It reminded me of what Dad said after every snail’s crawl home from Albany when snow hit.“It’s New York, people. It’s winter. We get snow. If you aren’t prepared to deal with it, move to Miami.
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We'll meet you here. Hopefully everyone will be in human form. A wry smile. Though I'll warn you, he's not a whole lot more pleasant that way. At least as a wolf, he can't talk.
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