“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
“I’ve fallen in love with a beautiful, sexy, sweet, jealous control freak.
Shit.”
“He could melt glaciers with that smile. End wars. Resolve the national debt crisis.”
“I want to kiss him for caring enough to be jealous, and smack the shit out of him for being so jealous he’s almost blind with it.”
“Because you're the first woman I've brought into my home and all I can think about is getting your beautiful body naked and fucking you senseless. I need to know if there is any competition. I don't share, Natalie.”
“I brought music." I pull my iPhone and ear buds out of my bra and plug them in my ears.
"What else do you have in there?”
“And one day, I'd love to see you dressed in nothing but pearls.”
“It says ‘One Step at a Time’.”
“Clearly, Mr Beautiful Blue Eyes and Sexy Greek God Face is a loony tune.”
“It says, ‘Be happy for this moment.’” I groan, and continue. “‘This moment is your life.’” “In what language?” His finger is rubbing it now. Oh wow. “Sanskrit.”
“He brings both my hands up to his lips and kisses each finger, then steps back and lets go.”
“Not only are you intimating that I’m a whore, but you’re also insinuating that your brother has the intelligence of a mud fence to be with a woman who would take advantage of him because of his celebrity or his money, and be perfectly okay with that.”
“wasn’t bothering you,” I respond, happy that my voice is stronger with my anger, and retreat back another step.”
“Give me the fucking camera, and I won’t press charges for harassment. I just want the photos.” He’s”
“turn to my left and see a young couple walking along the sidewalk. Seattle’s Alki Beach is pretty much deserted, aside from a few die-hards, or early morning insomniacs, like me. The young couple are walking away from me, hand in hand, smiling at each other, and I point my lens at them and click. I zoom in on their sneaker-clad feet and locked hands and shoot some more, my photographer’s eye appreciating their intimate moment on the beach. I inhale the salty air and stare out at the sound once again as a red-sailed boat gently glides out on the water. The early morning sunshine is”
“Not only are you insinuating that I’m a whore, but you’re also insinuating that your brother has the intelligence of a mud fence to be with a woman who would take advantage of him because of his celebrity or his money, and be perfectly okay with that.”
“you are my best friend, the love of my life, and I would do it again every single day.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs, his fingers still on my cheek. “I love your curvy body.” My eyes widen. “Don’t frown.” He kisses me between my eyebrows, as if he’s smoothing the frown from my face. “I’m not so sure about my curvy body.” It’s a whispered admission that I’ve never made before, and frankly, I’ve never felt this vulnerable. His blue gaze meets mine again, and each word is staccato: “You. Are. Beautiful.” I close my eyes, but he tips my chin, forcing me to look at him again. “Thank you.” His”
“This isn’t fucking funny.” He’s glaring at me now, and my face sobers. “Trust me, I know.” I swallow. “You’re very sweary.” “You haven’t heard sweary yet.”
“And I've just spent the last 48 hours falling in love with a man that is not only completely out of my league, I don't even play the same sport”
“It says, Be happy for this moment.” I groan and continue. “This moment is your life.” “In”
“to snap head shots while he throws one hand back”
“surrounded by a very, very pissed-off face. Not merely angry. Livid. “Excuse me?” I squeak, finding my voice. “Why can’t you all just leave me the fuck alone?” The handsome—really handsome—stranger in front of me is shaking in rage, and”
“Suddenly, I feel out of my league. He is a ten, and I’m lucky if I hit a seven after I’ve been buffed and polished at my favorite salon. Not to mention, I have hips and an ass and a bit of a belly bulge that no matter how many sit-ups or yoga exercises I do, it just won’t go away.”
“she had an elegant belly and a navel that could contain an ounce of unguent.”
“You were supposed to be my wingman, not my freaking kamikaze pilot.”
“Gaza Writes Back' provides conclusive evidence that telling stories is an act of life, that telling stories is resistance, and that telling stories shapes our memories.”
“1And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2aThis census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. 3So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city. 4Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to bthe city of David, which is called Bethlehem, cbecause he was of the house and lineage of David, 5to be registered with Mary, dhis betrothed 1wife, who was with child. 6So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. 7And eshe brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a 2manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”
“It was true. Logan had created a different side of himself, one that always wore a smile and made jests to hide the truth. It had worked effectively. Everyone thought he was something he wasn’t. And if he had any say in it, no one would know the truth.”
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