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One day she's throwing a book at me. The next, we're making out behind the library.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Behinds
Behind
Making
Next
Book
Throwing
Library

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Not into older guys, huh? asked Adrian once we were alone. You're imagining things, I said. Clearly, my stunning beauty has clouded your mind.
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Well there you go. Even a psychopath recognized your worth enough to want to kill someone else first. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
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Everyone wanted what she couldn't have.
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The ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. ‘You’re always the voice of reason. Just try listening to yourself once in a while.
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She is mine, and I am hers.
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I thought I'd finally get to relax with Dimitri.
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What have I done? I whispered. Jill put her arm around me, but it was Dimitri who spoke. What you had to.
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The world of the dead wonʹt give you up a second time.
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Oh, he said to Kiyo, voice completely devoid of emotion. I see. It's your turn again.
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I can pick a lock. How do you think I got into my parents' liquor cabinet in middle school?
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Sunshine had never tasted so sweet as it did at that moment.
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Have you ever wanted to put on a Santa suit? I have always wanted to do that, said Carter gravely.
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Tawny, I barked. My voice held the authority of a drill sergeant. She jumped. I am NOT making out with you until the end of time. You want to do this, then you've got to work for it. Now, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES. Oh, said Hugh. I've waited ten years to hear you say that to another woman.
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A different word usually came to my mind when I thought of Yeva, though it did sound a lot like “witch.
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Don't cut it, he said gruffly. But no one'll see my tattoos if I don't. Wear it up. -Dimitri, Rose, Dimitri
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She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet - physical pain - was the only way to make her internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.
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You did good Roza. Very good. Now sleep.
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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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I found the candles—atrocious air freshening ones that smelled like fake pine.
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He sighed and then focused his eyes right on me. It was like drowning, drowning in seas of green. There was nothing in the world except for those eyes. I want to kiss you, Rose, he said softly. And I want you to want me too.
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