And," Amber said, practically drooling as she ogled him, "it's tradition for new arrivals to help with the pep rally." Brooklyn quirked her lips in doubt. "Tradition?" "It's a new tradition," Amber shot back. "Clearly the deeper meaning of the word has escaped you.

Cookie had taken her daughter amber to school then walked the thirty-something feet to work earlier. Our business was on the second floor of Calamity's, my dad's bar, which sat right in front of our apartment building. The short commute was nice and rarely invloved rabid raccoons.

I'd have a longer attention span if there weren't so many shiny things.

Did you get checked out?” “Yeah, by a hot blond who sat in the corner of the bar and made googly eyes at me.” “I meant by a doctor.” “No, but a balding yet bizarrely hot paramedic said I’d be fine." “Oh, and he’s an expert?” “At flirting.

Does Uncle Bob have anything?" "I heard he has an STD." "I mean on the women." "Oh, I have no idea if they have any STDs.

No, no, no, no, no. Anything but murder. Or rape. Or kidnapping. Or armed robbery. Or indecent exposure, ’cause that’s just creepy.

A Nuns Life: Chastity, poverty, and obedience. Wait, chastity?" BUMPER STICKER