If the Angels won, the entire Earth would be nothing but one giant Christmas frickin' morning, a choking wave of happiness and warmth and caring and sharing taking over everything.

You know you were with the lessers, true?" Butch lifted one of his busted-up hands. "And here I thought I'd been to Elizabeth Arden.

Man, he wasn't going to need a stress test anytime soon. If his heart could get through a kiss from her, he could probably run a marathon. While dragging a car behind him. Sideways to the road.

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building. Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them. “Wait. I need to ask him a question.” “You want to know his shoe size or something?” Butch snapped. “Fourteen,” Wrath drawled. “I’ll remember that at Christmas, asshole.

Besides, you think I'm not used to hurting? For me, it's home sweet home, my brother.

V?" Butch said. "Don't leave, okay?" "Never." V brushed Butch's hair back with a gesture so tender it was out of place coming from a male.

An Active mind didn't need distraction in its physical environment. It needed a collection of outstanding books and a good lamp. Maybe some cheese and crackers.