We've had to deal with so many complications. We're still dealing with them. And what can we do? Nothing - well, unless we take your side's point of view and make deals with the devil. But why? Why can't we make deals with God? People do all the time. 'God, if you do this for me, I promise to be good.' Stuff like that. Yeah, but I don't see any contracts like you guys have. No hard evidence that it works. How come we can only get things we want by being bad? Why can't we get them by being good?

Mentor’s Official and Complete Procedural Handbook on Initial Succubus Intake and Probationary Period (Abridged). “Abridged?” I spun toward Jerome. “Tell me you’re getting back at me for the time I accused you of wearing Old Spice.” “That one’s still coming,” said the demon. “This one’s for real.

This dress makes me look fat," I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last minute preperations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress. "Your pregnant," she stated. "Everything's supposed to make you look fat." I Scowled. "I think the correct reponse was 'No it doesn't.

You know, Aunt Tasha makes jokes about how youʹd actually be a better queen than the others, except sometimes . . . I donʹt think sheʹs joking.

This is very domestic of you," he said. "It's kinda hot, really. Giving me all sorts of fantasies about you in an apron vacuuming my house.

Who... who are you?' I asked at last. It was true. I had left a body in the park, but seriously, what was I supposed to do? Drag him back to my hotel and tell my bellhop my friend had had too much to drink?

Are we going to New Orleans?" "No", she said, backing out of the spot. "We're going to West Virginia." "I assume by 'West Virginia,' you actually mean 'Hawaii,'" I said. "Or some place equally exciting.