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I'm sorry. Be sorry you lied, he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go, yeah, but still something that's made you who you are.
Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
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Michigan
United States
Loved
Forehead
Stills
Pressing
Part
Foreheads
Still
Lied
Made
Kiss
Something
Kissing
Sorry
Yeah
More quotes by Richelle Mead
Maybe you don't need beauty sleep, but some of us aren't so lucky.
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Roza. His voice had that same wonderful lowness, the same accent . . . it was all just colder. You forgot my first lesson: Don’t hesitate.
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I'll find you. There is no place in this world you can hide from me. I'm watching. Love, Dimitri
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You're strong—you're so, so strong. It's why I love you.
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Sydney, I'm so happy to see you again. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know. And you must be Neil. Your majesty. Neil swept her a bow so low that his forehead touched the ground. Above him, Adrian rolled his eyes. Easy there, Lancelot, Adrian said. I don't think bowing is required when she's in jeans and bunny slipp
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Was it weird having a witch grandma? Scary? Was she always, like, threatening to cast spells if you were bad? Most of the time she just threatened to send me to my room. That doesn't sound so scary to me. That's because you haven't met her.
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Don't get caught up in fashion games. These kids probably think we're old, nark conformists or something, but really, they're just conforming in their own ways. They're conforming to nonconformity.
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I changed my mind, he said. I'll take you up on helping me get a job. I almost swerved into oncoming traffic.
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The only thing better than imagining Dimitri carrying me in his arms was imagining him shirtless while carrying me in his arms.
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We all stared at the scoreboard in stunned silence. Only Carter was able to get anything out. That, he told Robert exuberantly, is how a bird in the hand gets up before the early worm. That doesn't make any sense, said Roger. Carter pointed at the scoreboard. Neither does that, but there you have it.
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Rose, nothing in this world could make me hate you. Not even trying to bring my ex-boyfriend back from the dead?
Richelle Mead
Stick. I said in Russian. I had no clue what the word for stake was. I pointed at the silver ring I wore and made a slashing motion. Stick. where? He stared at me in utter confusion and then asked in perfect English, why are you talking like that?
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You’re a solid person, Sage. You’re easy on the eyes, if a little skinny, and your ability to memorize useless information is going to totally hook in some guy.
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Everything's about my personal entertainment. The world is my stage. Keep it up- you're becoming a star performer in the show.
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What, are you doing? Aside from getting your sandwich cold. I’m making a snow angel. Don’t you know what that is? Yes, I know. But why? You must be freezing. Not so much, actually. My face is a little, I guess.
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Nothing he said could change what I think of you. I've had my mind made up about you for a long time... and it's all good.
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Sometimes talking to you is like talking to myself: pretty damned annoying.
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...but Dimitri...well, my former lover and instructor was in a category all his own. His fighting skills were beyond anyone else's, and he was using them all in defense of me. Stay back, he ordered me. They aren't laying a hand on you.
Richelle Mead