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A gun. I had been brought down by a gun. It was practically comical. Cheaters, I thought.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Rose
Brought
Thought
Cheaters
Cheater
Comical
Practically
Gun

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Metaphors. This was the cost of making out with an artist.
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You should know better.ʺ ʺIʹve never known better,ʺ he countered. ʺYou should know that.
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Well, she was talking to me. That's enough to make anyone lose their temper. And I accused her of sleeping with my dad because he was the soundest evolutionary choice.
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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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I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.” And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing.
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Do you know anything about silent films? Sure, I said. The first ones were developed in the late nineteenth century and sometimes had live musical accompaniment, though it wasn't until the 1920s that sound became truly incorporated into films, eventually making silent ones obsolete in cinema.
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I found the candles—atrocious air freshening ones that smelled like fake pine.
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The world of the dead wonʹt give you up a second time.
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Even if I’d been wide awake, I knew Dimitri would’ve taken my suitcase anyway. That’s how he was, a lost remnant of chivalry in the modern world, ever-ready to help others.
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He'd written me up a proposal of why dating him was a sound decision. It had included things like I'll give up cigarettes unless I really, really need one and I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris—but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises.
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And than suddenly he was there, charging down the hallway like death in a cowboy duster.
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What’s wrong?” asked Seth, seeing my frown. “That new drummer. Alec. He hit on me earlier, and now he’s moving in on Casey. I think he’s one of those guys who thinks plying girls with liquor is the only way to get laid.” “Wait. I thought I was the only guy who knew that secret.
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And besides . . . I don’t want to leave you. Er, you guys.” He smiled, and it lit up his whole face. “Well, ‘we’ are certainly happy to hear that. Oh, and I’m also happy to watch our darling little love child dragon while you’re in St. Louis.” I grinned back.
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How do you say goodbye to someone who isn't exactly gone.
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Good God. Men everywhere.
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Turning away, I stared at the long road winding off ahead of me. I sighed. This trip might take awhile. Then start walking, Rose, I muttered to myself. I set off, off to kill the man I loved.
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I’m sorry ma’am,” I said. Really, I had no idea what else to say. I’d spent the weekend caught up in an epic battle to save humanity, and now… jean shorts?
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I've given up on you...Love fades. Mine has.
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(Men without ambition are boring) And that attitude, mistress, is why the females of your kind continue to struggle for equality. And why they continue to fail.
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Having your own, um, cave at eighteen is pretty cool.
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