Adrien, people get killed all the time. Since when is it your job to find out what happened to them?" "I'm not usually suspected of murdering them." "You have been as long as I've known you.
And why is it the best looking ones are always straight?
Love... doesn't happen every day. It doesn't happen at all for some people
Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.
He went through the cupboards, found the olive oil, and started upstairs again. He glanced down at the green and gold label and had to bite back a laugh at the words Extra Virgin. That about summed it up.
Sable hair bisected his pecs and arrowed down to the straight and unequivocal statement of his returned interest. Forcing my gaze to his face, I said, "I really don't think we have time for that." "You know that, and I know that, but HE doesn't believe it." "Believe it," I told HIM. J.X.'s mouth tugged into one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Maybe you should whisper in his ear.
I didn't approve of murder on general principles. Not even of people who seemed to go around begging for it.
One thing I’ve noticed about getting older, it takes twice as much work to get half the results one formerly achieved by falling out of bed.
I thought I recognized you." Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
What I like about cooking is that, so long as you follow the recipe exactly, everything always turns out perfect. It’s too bad there’s no recipe for happiness. Happiness is more like pastry—which is to say that you can take pains to keep cool and not overwork the dough, but if you don’t have that certain light touch, your best efforts still fall flat. The work-around is to buy what you need. I’m talking about pastry, not happiness, although money does make things easier all around.
Vintage books, old china, antiques; maybe I love old things so much because I feel impermanent myself.
You couldn't hurt a fly." Actually I was pretty good at pinging flies right out of the air, but I tried to look appropriately harmless.
Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, "He writes murder mysteries.
I never meant to get involved with you, Adrien. Rest easy; you're not.
Tiffs among the faggots were apparently the stuff of quiet merriment.
Focus on someone else’s problems for a change, I instructed myself. You need the practice. From now on you’ll have to live in a world you didn’t make up. Horrible thought.
Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?
'What about stress? Are you using your stress-management techniques when things seem to be getting on top of you?' 'Nothing is getting on top of me.' As I said it, a totally inappropriate picture popped into my mind. 'What are you feeling?' Jake's breath warm against my face, my bruised lips tingling from his kisses. 'Tell me what it feels like with me inside you.'
When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.
I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?
The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.
You were the first in every way that counted.
Knowing and believing are two different things.
Kevin refilled my plastic cup with more box wine. I smiled thanks. Kevin smiled welcome. Jake kicked my ankle.
Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.
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