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Happy endings were never handed out. You had to fight for them, earn them with bruised hearts and sacrifices.
Kim Harrison
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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Earn
Hearts
Sacrifice
Fight
Fighting
Bruised
Happy
Endings
Heart
Sacrifices
Never
Handed
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if I’d been hit with the same thing as Glenn, I probably had his doctor. The thought seemed about right when Glenn shrank back in his chair with a guilty expression. The tomato, too, was in hiding somewhere. I didn’t want to know where. I truly didn’t.
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Growing up is hard, love. Otherwise everyone would do it.
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I’m not going anywhere with you, you little shoemaker,” I said (Rachel to Trent)
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Actually, I am kind of busy right now,” I drawled as I settled back into the chair and closed my eyes. “You have to make melanin while the sun shines.
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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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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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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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The car was full of unhappy people heading west. It was the Great American Family Road Trip, all right. Whaaa-hoo!
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For all his sourness, he was ruled by his heart.
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He wanted that again, that feeling of standing with her against all odds and succeeding. He wanted it so bad, he was going to risk destroying everything he and his father had worked for.
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My office is trashed,” he grumped as he squished across his damp carpet and took the coffee that I was holding out to him. “Why are you smiling? My fish are dead.
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Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.
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Ford put a hand to his head. “Back up. Back up!” he cried. “You’re too close.” Heart pounding, I looked at the eight feet between us and pressed into the fridge. “I think he meant for the ghost to back up,” Jenks said dryly.
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I suddenly realized that a bunch of my friends needed babysitters and vowed to start screening my calls.
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A devious spark lit through Al, making me smile. One way. It costs too much, he said. “There’s no inflation in the ever-after, Al.” Call it a recession then. One way.
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Behind the fury, he was tired. He was tired of being hauled around and shoved into a little room. He was tired of trying for me and failing. And to have Minias know it, to be carted off under his leash…It was almost insulting. Maybe, if I gave Al a night of peace to lick his wounds and his pride, he would grant that same courtesy to me?
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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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I can think of a lot of things to do, he said, and none of them involve standing up. - Al
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