Lilith Saintcrow is an American author of urban fantasy, historical fantasy, paranormal romance and steampunk novels. Saintcrow was born in New Mexico. She currently resides in Vancouver, WA.
Next to her, even the prettiest djamphir boys looked gawky.
Well, duh. You're cuter than she is. " He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works. Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling.
Christophe's smile was a marvel of edged sweetness. When he grinned like that he looked handsomer than ever, the hint of danger just about threatening to stop a girl's heart.
Richelle Mead delivers sexy action and tongue-in-cheek hellish humor-if damnation is this fun, sign me up!
I looked like a ghost. And I should know. I’ve seen a few.
What you cannot escape, you must fight; what you cannot fight, you must endure.
Touch me again, and it will be your last act in life - Blue Eyes.
I just. . . knew, the way you know how to breathe or to pull your hand back from a hot stove.
I got the idea she'd done her makeup up special for this. Not that she needed much. She was utterly and completely beautiful, except for the hate shining in her eyes.
It wasn't sarcasm. " Graves blew out a cloud of acrid smoke. "It was pointing out a fallacy in your logic, babe. " Anna's jaw actually dropped. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or push him out of the room. Way to go, Graves.
I don't even have moderately big breasticles. They just look like - well, nevermind what they look like. At least they stay strapped down when I worm into a sports bra.
I'm getting really tired of bleeding. Someone stop the world, I want to get off.
It truly sucks to doubt your friends when you only have one or two of them, I realized.
And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.
Jesus, you've got a death wish. " "Right now I have a bathroom-and-sleep-somewhere safe wish, kid.
I wondered what I’d end up looking like once I bloomed. I couldn’t even guess. If I had to be stuck in my own skinny, gawky, coltish body forever… well. It probably wouldn’t be so bad. I wouldn’t mind a little more in the chest, though. But wild horses wouldn’t drag that out of me. Ever.
Don't worry about me," I finally said. "Really. I'm more worried about you. " And even more worried about where Graves is. "Are you?" A fey smile lit his face, and I caught my breath. It was a shock to see him look so happy. "Well, then.
I went to the entrance to the restroom, where the hallway did a sharp bend so nobody could peek into the girls' pee-palace.
Oh, dear me. " Nathalie sank back down in the chair and examined her Uggs. "The sarcasm could've started dripping off her and stained the floor. "Is it conspiracy, treachery, murder, or open warfare? I'll have to choose my lipstick accordingly.
Come take a look at one of the oldest human urges- religion. After all, the only thing that makes us screwier is sex.