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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.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Watching
Finger
Tickling
Angry
Touching
Froze
Line
Afford
Cheek
Move
Mirror
Cracked
Hair
Mirrors
Trace
Lines
Clearly
Scent
Moving
Fingers
Cant
Thought
Mets
Cheeks

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I'll always be here, he said softly. You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I'll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you'll let me.
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Come on, Rachel! Jenks shrilled. You're a badass, not a bad witch!
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Rachel, you take her,” my mother said, clearly uncomfortable. “She might like you.” “No. Mom, no!” I protested, but it was my mother we were talking about, and it was either take the baby or have her hit the floor.
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Rachel, my itchy witch, Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. We've talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?
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Just because I don't wear my heart on my sleeve - You don't even wear your heart in your chest.
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Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.
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Elves apparently had a short childhood. Not like witches, who seemed to take forever to grow up, according to Jenks.
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People ask me what I do in my spare time, and I look at them blankly, truly believing that I don't even have spare time, and if I did, I'd probably use it for something mundane, like chipping away at the mound of laundry rising to dangerous proportions in the back room.
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She smiled with the warmth of a penguin.
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For all his sourness, he was ruled by his heart.
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I want one thing I can point to and say, 'that is good, and it's a part of me.'
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Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al's sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.
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Confused, I asked, The coven's what? Plumber, Ivy said, looking pale as she leaned on Glenn. You know. Stops leaks? Oh goodie. I'm a leak.
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