What was love, really? Flowers, chocolate, and poetry? Or was it something else? Was it being able to finish someone's jokes? Was it having absolute faith that someone was there at your back? Was it knowing someone so well that they instantly understood why you did the things you didโand shared those same beliefs?
Richelle MeadJohn Cusack is standing over there.โ I followed his incredulous gaze to where a man very like Mr. Cusack did indeed stand, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against a building. I sighed. โThatโs not John Cusack. Thatโs Jerome.โ โSeriously?โ โYup. I told you he looked like John Cusack.โ โKeyword: looked. That guy doesnโt look like him. That guy is him.
Richelle Meadthe kind of kiss that said, I want to consume every inch of you and hear you scream my name.
Richelle MeadBecause...Beacause it's so good, and there's only one chance to read a book for the first time, and I want it to last. That experience. I'd finish it in a day otherwise, and that'd be like...like eating a carton of ice cream in one sitting. Too much richness over too quickly. This way, I can draw it out. Make the book last longer. Savor it. I have to since they don't come out that often.
Richelle Mead