He smiled and tapped my nose. "Two thank-yous in as many days. I don't suppose I'll get to see any, uh, special gratitude?" I scoffed. "Nope. You'll just have to imagine it." He gave me a half-hug and released me. "Fair enough. But I have a good imagination.

Sydney had been horrified to discover my home library consisted of a bartending dictionary and an old copy of Esquire, and at her pleading, I'd promised to read something more substantial. I was trying to think deep thoughts as I read Gatsby, but mostly I wanted to throw some parties.

Maybe you don't need beauty sleep, but some of us aren't so lucky.

In fact I was fairly certain there was no one in the entire world quite like Adrian Ivashkov.

He's been out for a while," she said. "You ready to take a break?" Hopper could exist in this living form or be transformed into a small statue, which helped avoid uncomfortable questions when people came by. Only she could transform him though. "Yeah. He keeps trying to eat my paints. And I don't want him to watch me kiss you goodbye.

Nice blouse, Sage,” Adrian told me, deadpan. “It really brings out the khaki in your pants.

We all screw up. Everyone makes mistakes. That’s what she did. It was bad judgment, that’s all. You don’t cut off the people you love for mistakes like that.