Cath ran her fingers along the cover, over the raised gold type. Then someone else ran right into her, pushing the book into Cath's chest. Pushing two books into her chest. Cath looked up just as Wren threw an arm around her. "They're both crying," Cath heard Reagan say. "I can't even watch." Cath freed an arm to wrap around her sister. "I can't believe it's really over," she whispered. Wren held her tight and shook her head. She really was crying, too. "Don't be so melodramatic, Cath," Wren laughed hoarsely. "It's never over... It's Simon.

Don't make me angry-kiss you.

You can park your snark at the gate, Omaha.

If you don't want people to look at you, Park had thought at the time, don't wear fishing lures in your hair. Her jewelry box must look like a junk drawer.

I dare you to call Ask-A-Nurse and tell them you feel a presence in your womb region.

Looks like somebody's got jungle fever.' 'That's not even the right kind of racist.

I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death.