Also,I loathe it when you refer to me as dude Eric Sinclair to Betsy
A day without the Antichrist sitting in judgment on you is a day without sunshine.
Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as—Put that thing down, I said impatiently. I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a da...
I've always assumed he'd be around to be, you know, yelled at and taken for granted. And of course I was wrong. Nobody's going to put up with that forever.
I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.
I was so furious I was actually dizzy with it. There were so many bitchy, sarcastic observations to make, I was having a sarcasm stroke. My God! You people! You're - you're so stupid you're making my...
I looked up. Mom looked down at me with the compassion/practicality combo that was her trademark.
Honestly. Do guys really think that will fool us? 'Whoa, hi there, John. Gosh, for a second there I thought you were going bald, but I see now that you have a full, lush head of hair. Which grows side...
Hi, the werewolf said. He was dark-haired and broad, with gold eyes, big hands, and a feral scruffiness that Cole felt and instantly responded to. He had the weird urge to kill a cow and present it to...
First of all, skim? That’s white water. That’s all skim milk is: they take out all the wonderful stuff that makes milk taste like milk and replace it with white water and people actually drink that sh...
Eric came to Macy's? Did he burst into flames the moment he passed the first cash register?
WHEN I finally slowed and looked around, I saw with amazement I’d trotted sixteen blocks in about three minutes. Summer Olympics, here I come. Assuming they held the races at night.
There's more than one way for a girl to Google a cat.
The mouth of a passionate lover... or a woman who would bite when she was angry.
Take your hands off her, Sinclair told the guy behind me, Or they'll write books about what I'll do to you.
She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began; looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.
Quit doing your game show host schtick, Marc, I ordered. You're confusing the vampires. They're not big TV watchers.Certainly not daytime television, Sinclair sniffed.
Okay. And you'll, uh, make sure he doesn't hurt anybody when he's, you know, nutty and out of his mind with blood lust? For the next ten years?Liam winced (well, he blinked), but Sophie soldiered on....
Kissing Sinclair was like making out with a sexy timber wolf— he was licking my fangs and nipping me lightly and growling under his breath and it was...oh, it was really something.
It's Privacy, Please, for the Penguins.