What's wrong?" I didn't say a word." Something's up. What is it?" Nothing." His head turned, gaze going to mine. "Yeah?" Yes." A snort and he returned to his bowl.

Derek picked the spot? Had he been hoping I'd be blinded by the morning sun and stumble off the edge?

He lifted his brows. "If I really thought it was the absolute best thing for our kids, you'd have had a battle on your hands. That was just a debate." "With chair-throwing." "Heated debate. Fights involve chair-breaking. Chair-throwing is just getting your attention.

The upshot of her tirade was that I was the devil's spawn and should be locked up in a tower before I unleashed hordes of the living dead to slaughter them all in their sleep. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but not by much.

Last time I was sick, the guy I was seeing brought me a bottle of ginger ale… and expected me to pay him back for it. ~Jaime Vegas

You'll wrest a burning sword from an angel, but you're afraid of bats?" "I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them. They're...furry. Flying things shouldn't be furry. It's not right. And if I ever meet the Creator, I'm taking that one up with him." "That I'd like to see. Your one and possible only chance to get the answer to every question in the universe, and you ask, 'Why are bats furry?'" "I will. You just wait.

Tell me when you want to pick it up again." "Tell me when Satan starts a snowball fight." "I'll do that. Lunch?