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I'm glad you're better, he said. His mouth sounded like it was almost in my hair, just above my my ear. When I saw you fall... You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 47
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Hair
Sounded
Almost
Wow
Fall
Loser
Thought
Mouth
Better
Glad
Like
Mouths
Ears
Saws

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Not much could have distracted me from coffee, but hearing Julius Caesar quoted at Spencer’s certainly did.
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Some people read books for fun.
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We take what what we can get.
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Well...I'm on birth control I was drinking the water again and choked on it. It took several moments of coughing before I could gasp out. What? It takes a while for it to start working, so I figured I should be prepared, just in case. Just in case, I repeated, still dumbfounded.
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I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my chest. Butterflies, cardiac arrest . . . it was hard to say what exactly.
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There's nothing worse than waiting and not knowing what'll happen to you. Your own imagination can be crueler than any captor.
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He smiled and tapped my nose. Two thank-yous in as many days. I don't suppose I'll get to see any, uh, special gratitude? I scoffed. Nope. You'll just have to imagine it. He gave me a half-hug and released me. Fair enough. But I have a good imagination.
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That was Sydney Sage, said Lissa. I thought they were all in West Virginia. Why isn't she with Rose? That, said Abe darkly, is an excellent question. Because they were apparently kidnapping Jill Mastrano in Detroit, said Christian. Which is weird. But not the craziest thing I can think of Rose doing.
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That's the great thing about being a writer. You dream up amazing questions... and then dream up even more amazing answers.
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We studied our angels for a few moments more, looking at where we had lain side by side in that sweet, quiet moment. I wished what I’d said was true, that we had truly left our mark on the mountain. But I knew that after the next snowfall, our angels would disappear into the whiteness and be nothing more than a memory.
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I like you being the sinner you are. -Adrian Ivashkov
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Dmitri was in my arms.
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Sydney: I can do a lot of things, Adrian. And—at the risk of sounding egotistical —I mean, well, I can do a lot of pretty awesome things that most people can’t. Adrian: “Don’t I know it. You can change a tire in ten minutes while speaking Greek.” Sydney: “Five minutes.
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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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Everyone wanted what she couldn't have.
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Unbelievable, I said. First you wanted to hide her away to keep you alive. Now you actually want her out in the world to use her compulsion for your own psycho plans.
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There's a reason they say,Pride goeth before a fall.
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If it makes you feel any better, you’re not as bad as Keith. He was here earlier today and was so nervous, he literally kept looking over his shoulder.” Lee paused thoughtfully. “I think it might have been because Adrian kept laughing like a mad scientist at those old black-and-white movies he was watching.
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At long last, she gasped out, It’s Seth. What happened? I demanded. Is he okay? He ended it. Her crying renewed. He broke the engagement and told me it was over.
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Screw you, I told him in a low voice. Are you offering?” From what I've heard, there isn't much to screw, I shot back.
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