Jealous?" "Maybe." "No reason. I like my ladies with a pulse.

I wish the dryer were running, because man, I could use a good...tumble dry."-Eve Rosser

Shane padded back to the couch and flopped, sucking on his own can of soda. Eve shot him an exasperated look. “Yeah, man, thanks for bringing me one, too.” The raccoon eye make-up exaggerated her eye roll. “Dork.” “Didn’t know if you wanted zombie dirt sprinkled on it or anything. If you’re eating this week.

The vamp in McMann’s stared at me. I guess he didn’t like the Goth look. Most of them don’t; somehow they think I’m making fun of them. Which I totally am.

Myrnin, drive carefully. Understand?" "Of course." He didn't.

Shane? Thank God, somebody sane. Well, sane-ish.

Hey! Sorry, lady, but nobody's staking anybody at this party! I hung a disco ball for this.