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I don’t know, Sage. You threw yourself in the line of pepper spray for me. You must like me just a little bit.” “I— I figured it’d be a shame to ruin your pretty face,” I stammered.
Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Face
Figured
Faces
Ruin
Littles
Ruins
Stammered
Little
Shame
Pepper
Must
Line
Peppers
Like
Bits
Spray
Pretty
Threw
Lines
Sage
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Conversation was irrelevant. Only pie mattered.
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She stared at me with concern a few moments longer and then relaxed a little. Okay. But if you need anything— I know, I know. Call on the Love Phone.
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And than suddenly he was there, charging down the hallway like death in a cowboy duster.
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My muse is an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.
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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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Adrian looked away from me and down to where my hand covered his. I blushed and pulled away. “Sorry” I’d probably freaked him out
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She didnʹt know if she could carry on by herself, but then, she realized that if this wasnʹt a dream—and dear God, did it feel real—there was no magic ʺstopʺ in real life. If she couldnʹt deal with loneliness in a dream, she never would be able to while waking.
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