Hormones are very powerful things. We are helpless in their wake.

Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?" My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. "Um," I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. "Sometimes." "How about now?" he asked. And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: "Susannah. Susannah...

We need to talk.” “I’m just – Look,” I said, as he took a step toward me. “I’m just going to give Cee Cee a call and maybe we’ll go to the beach or something, because I really … I just need a day off.”Another step toward me. Now he was right in front of me. “Especially,” I said significantly, looking up at him, “from talking. That’s what I especially need a day off from. Talking.” “Fine,” he said. He reached up and cupped my face in both his hands. “We don’t have to talk.”And that’s when he kissed me. On the lips.

Cursed?" I offered, my voice croaky because of my unshed tears. "It isn't cursed." John said deliberately, rearranging the chain around my neck, "if you're wearing it. It's blessed.

You'll blow up a helicopter, but you won't go out with me? What is wrong with you?

Look, Mr. uh, Wulf I appreciate your trying to warn me about this, Ireally do. But there's no such thing as vampires. They're made-up. We writers made them up. I'm sorry we did such a good job that we made the whole world paranoid, but it's true. They're fictional. Blame Bram Stoker. He started it.

Accept the things I cannot change," I said. "And pray for the courage to change the things I can, as well as the wisdom to know the difference." The thing is... I know this is good advice. It's called the Serenity Prayer, and it really does put things in perspective (it's suppose to be for recovering alcoholics, but it helps recovering freakoutaholics, like me, as well).