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Don’t stereotype, Jenks. HAPA is an equal-opportunity hate group,” I said.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Stereotype
Group
Equal
Groups
Opportunity
Hate

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Pierce jerked his hand from Trent and pushed himself straight. “Kalamack Industries,” he said, expression twisted as he wiped his hand on his pants. “I knew your father.” “I do not freaking believe this,” I said, shifting to stand where I could see both of them. Al beamed. “Amazing who you can meet in an elevator.
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Relief spilled into me. He wanted to live. He just didn't know how.
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If he betrays you, I will finish what I started with his fingers, he said, and I shivered. Tell him that.
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I felt sick. Buying Kisten’s and my safety from Piscary was so wrong. But it was either that or deal with a demon, and I’d rather keep my soul clean and let my morals get dingy.
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How many mistakes can one life survive?
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Jenks made a move to follow, probably forgetting he didn’t have wings anymore. He leaned forward and fell to the floor, face first. “Jenks!” I shouted when he hit with a dull smack and started swearing.
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He froze as the scent of her hair met him. It was touching his cheek,tickling him. I cant afford this, he thought, but he didnt move, watching her finger trace the new line. He cracked my mirror,she said, clearly angry.
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A clipboard and a hard hat could get you just about anywhere.
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Being poor is not an indication of potential or worth. It’s a lack of resources.
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But a slow, deeply satisfied smile came over him, and his breath quickened. 'So softly it starts,' he whispered. 'Foolishly clever and with an unsurvivable trust. It just saved your miserable life, that questionable show of thought, my itchy-witch.' Al’s smile shifted, becoming lighter. 'And now you will live to possibly regret it.
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Can we get back to how we’re going to kill Nick? And what’s this about a dead body? You’d better start talking quick, Ivy, ’cause I’m not going to play hide-and-seek with a dead guy in my trunk. I did that in college, and I’m not going to do it again.” A smile quirked Ivy’s mouth. “Really?” she asked, and I flushed.
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Just so you know, I’ve trusted you since camp.
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Ku’Sox was indeed a demon. In. The. Sun. I needed answers, but I wanted them from Al, not…Cute Socks here.
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I ought to file charges of uncommon stupidity against you for letting her try this alone. ~ Newt, Black Magic Sanction, Kim Harrison
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All I'd have to do then was roll with the consequences of inviting dewinged, fanged fairies into Trent's backyard. God, they were savage looking. Served him right.
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My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching. I looked again, not believing. “It’s a cat,” I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect.
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Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.
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He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful.
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Good God,” I whispered, sitting on the van’s cot and looking at my legs, horrified. They were hairy—not wolf hairy, but an I-couldn’t-find-my-razor-the-last-six-months hairy. Utterly grossed out, I took a peek at my armpit, jerking away. Oh, that’s just…nasty.
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Trent and Ellasbeth did the nasty? Ewwww!
Kim Harrison