“Great. You want me to steal from the local thug. What a delightful way to die.”
“Cass had a few points but, really, a vampire? Who believed in such a myth? What was Cass suggesting anyway? That I grab my rosary and head for the nearest church begging for holy water? Line my door and windows with salt? Sleep with a wooden stake under my pillow? Hang garlic bulbs from my bedroom door? Why was I even considering these options?”
“The shapes inched closer. I gaped at them, trying to discern their features. "I think I see dead people," I whispered.
"Yep," Aidan said, smiling. "More vampire jokes. You're just fine, then. Once this is over, you and my brother will be BFFs." He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against his broad chest. Against my better judgement, I leaned into him, strangely comforted.”
“Great way to impress your future brother-in-law, by the way," Kieran continued. "You look like you took a blood bath. The only thing missing is the axe. Would Dallas really let his little sister date a crazed murderer who hacks bodies in the basement? You need to change that shirt pronto. And oh, you're welcome. I just saved you from making a complete and utter fool of yourself, but don't mention it."
I curled my lips into a fake smile. "Thanks. It's so nice to know you've got my back."
Kieran regarded me coolly. "A hobby might help ease all that hunger. Have you ever considered fixing cars, or woodworking, or maybe a DIY project around the house?"
"You're getting a big laugh out of this, aren't you?"
Kieran shrugged. "There's nothing on TV.”
“He simply had to be different and like me the way I was now that I'd fallen in love with him.”
“Aidan said he'd never hurt me. Maybe he wouldn't do it on purpose, but vampires drink blood. Sooner or later, he'd want a midnight snack.”
“I laughed. " So, let me get this straight. You slayed the dragon, jumped over the moat, climbed the tower of the evil King's castle, saved the princes, and rode off with her into sunset aka Shadow land. Why, you're my knight in shining armour.”
“We're close. I can smell their faint scent," Blake whispered.
Kieran snorted. "That makes one of us. All I smell is dog shit.”
“No, no. I get it. You had to do it." Kieran's eyes narrowed. "Believe it or not, I'm a sucker for romance. Two star-crossed lovers who don't fit in each other's world. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet - just with fangs.”
“Can't you see, Amber? Losing you would be like a stake to my heart.”
“Amber laughed. "What makes you think I'd marry you?" "What makes you think you'd have a choice?" "I'm not into bad guys," she said.”
“The flicker of a girl appeared; a tiny shape with huge, brown eyes I would never mistake, not even in death.”
“Your new boss’s a vampire, and if you don’t learn to handle him, you’ll wake up dead. And I hope it’s in Hell because it’s more fun and heaven ain’t all”
“I'm far from perfect- maybe beautifully flawed- but I don't lie”
“Hi there, I'm—" "An idiot," Kieran said, rolling his eyes. Thrain grinned and shook Clare's hand. "Well, hello, Miss Idiot.”
“What do you see in him anyway?” “He doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.” I smiled bitterly”
“I'm 100% natural. No silicon, no synthetic hormones or steroids, no artificial flavors, colors or preservatives.”
“I can still feel my legs, thanks for asking. My back’s not even hurt that badly. Only as though I was just hit by a train.”
“Somebody call heaven because an angel just fell from the sky.”
“Men like him should come with a warning: date at your own risk.”
“You just haven’t found the right girl,” Clare said. “She’ll come along.” “And then she’ll make a run for the hills.” Cass laughed at her own joke.”
“Congratulations. You’ve just won a vacation to a big, relaxing place called a grave.”
“I thought she wanted out. We should've brought cuffs and a gag." Clare frowned. "What's wrong with you, Blake? This is a rescue mission, not a kidnapping.”
“I stood a better chance rescuing Amber with the help of my iPod.”
“Why couldn’t I just meet a normal guy for a change? Preferably one that didn’t love his car more than me, or one that didn’t need his five-a-day in the form of blood infusions. Was that too much to ask?”
“You haven't told her?" Cass shouted. "You're the worst boyfriend ever!”
“She’ll read your mind like nobody’s business.”
“I froze all night. My back’s killing me. I want home, and I’m scared to death. But I guess the view makes it all worth it.”
“You’re funny,” Angel said”
“It’s said people can sense their imminent death. Maybe they hear death’s song in the wind. Or the earth stops turning for a second, mourning those who are yet to pass.”
“Through the windshield, I watched an old woman clad in an old-fashioned, buttoned up dress push a buggy across the street. The long, grey material barely swayed in the wind as she trudged forward, stopping right before us. The lights changed to green. Harry accelerated. He was going to kill them. Gasping, I grabbed hold of his arm, tugging as hard as I could. “No! Stop!” Harry didn’t even flinch as he drove right through them. He signaled and stopped on the bus lane. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” For a moment I just stared at him, open-mouthed, then turned in my seat to peer at the crossing. The woman with the buggy wasn’t there. “Where did she disappear?” “Who?” I turned to face him again. “You didn’t see them?”
“1 WORLD RECORDS CHECK THIS OUT. This dude named Andrew Dahl holds the world record for blowing up the most balloons . . . with his nose. Yeah. That’s true. Not sure how he found out that was some kinda special talent, and I can’t even imagine how much snot be in those balloons, but hey, it’s a thing and Andrew’s the best at it. There’s also this lady named Charlotte Lee who holds the record for owning the most rubber ducks. No lie. Here’s what’s weird about that: Why would you even want one rubber duck, let alone 5,631? I mean, come on. And me, well, I probably hold the world record for knowing about the most world records. That, and for eating the most sunflower seeds.”
“In his prison poems, the bars on his windows are merely the grid through which he sees shooting stars, each lash of a whip is a reminder of the insecurity of tyrants, and a rumour that orders for his execution have been dispatched is reason to weep for the executioner.”
“I remembered Agnes's words: that we who traveled far from home would always have our hearts in two places. I placed my hand on the candlewick bedspread. And, finally, I wept.”
“The paper does not provide the exact number of penises eaten by ducks, but the author says there have been enough over the years to prompt the coining of a popular saying: 'I better get home or the ducks will have something to eat.”
“I loathed being sixty-four, and I will hate being sixty-five. I don’t let on about such things in person; in person, I am cheerful and Pollyannaish. But the honest truth is that it’s sad to be over sixty. The long shadows are everywhere—friends dying and battling illness. A miasma of melancholy hangs there, forcing you to deal with the fact that your life, however happy and successful, has been full of disappointments and mistakes, little ones and big ones. There are dreams that are never quite going to come true, ambitions that will never quite be realized. There are, in short, regrets. Edith Piaf was famous for singing a song called “Non, je ne regrette rien.” It’s a good song. I know what she meant. I can get into it; I can make a case that I regret nothing. After all, most of my mistakes turned out to be things I survived, or turned into funny stories, or, on occasion, even made money from. But”
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