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Most aspects of my training didn’t agree with me. There wasn’t as much bossing around as I’d hoped for, and there was way too much following orders.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
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But I had no plans to end my own life, and accidents couldn't be predicted. Neither could murder, unless my aunt and uncle were planning to take me out themselves.
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Not that I don't appreciate the rescue, Holt said. But I'm forced to ask, in the interest of self-preservation ... exactly how well armed are you right now?
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Great. I'm psychotic and sparkly.
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There’s an us?” “As far as I’m concerned…” He leaned forward, his mouth inches from mine, and my pulse spiked. “There’s nothing but us.
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So you’re saying the afterlife is hard on the libido? FYI, that’s probably not a good bullet point for your recruiting brochure.
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Hey, do you wanna go out for... His words melted with a sigh when he noticed Tod, but then he rallied with a smile. Hi, Tod, I didn't realise you were here. In my daughter's bedroom. With the door closed. Happy to be here, Tod said, and I groaned out loud.
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So,would you say I’m closer to a zombie or a vampire? I gotta know—are my parts going to rot and fall off, or am I forever frozen in youthful perfection?
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I'd just stepped out of the kiddie pool and into the deep end, with no floaties. And drowning was not an option.
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Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'? I demanded, my voice little more than a moan. You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language. His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. If I did, would you sign?
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I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want me. So…did you mean it?” “Yes,” I said, and some unnamed tension inside me eased. “I see you, Tod.
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Well that's too bad, because this is an assassination. No, this is an execution. The difference would be...? Assassination is murder. Execution is justice.
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I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.
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Exactly what part of that is supposed to make me feel better? Though, honestly, hearing that she was jealous of me did make me feel a teeny, tiny bit better.
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The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.
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So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it? With any luck, yes. Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.
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How does Parker’s body compare with yours ” Great. A pop quiz I thought recognizing his transition into lecture mode. “How does Parker’s body compare with mine Hmm.” I gave Parker a quick theatrical once-over and he smiled clearly catching on to my line of thought. “Nice legs and killer biceps. But I have better boobs. No question.
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It's kind of like when a clock battery runs down. The hour and minute hands don't disappear, but they don't keep ticking either. They freeze on the last minute they measured.
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You thought you could figure that out online? Somehow I don't think hellions are much into social networking.
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If Eastlake High School were the universe, I would be one of the moons circling Planet Emma, constantly hidden by her shadow, and glad to be there. Nash Hudson would be one of the stars: too bright to look at, too hot to touch and at the center of his own solar system.
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In the end, it only comes down to one thing: choosing the one you can’t live without.
Rachel Vincent