When he watched her sleeping, he often thought, My heart lies vulnerable outside my chest.
Let’s put the fun back in funeral!
Fate has a way of getting what she wants, no matter how we try to avoid it.
He jerked back. “What is this? Be like you were with me the other times! When you melted for me.” “That was before I fully understood what a nasty piece of work you are.” “Because of a few shifter beheadings? Come on, Lizvetta, it’s not as if I went around cock-slapping gnomes.” Her jaw dropped.
Gods, I love it when you talk mathy to me.
I’m not interested in a life that doesn’t have you in it.
People think happiness will simply fall into their laps. You have to aspire to it. And sometimes you have to seize it when it’s kicking and screaming.
Those swords are mine! Touch them and I’ll use ’em to slice off your nut sack! For a coin purse!
He’s like six hundred years younger than you are. I refuse to be the moral compass of our cell! Most weekends I have an intoxispell bong attached to my mouth like a respirator. I love scatological humor, and I list ‘pranks involving nuclear waste’ and ‘making demons eat things’ as my hobbies.
Well maybe we need to Cesar Millan their asses and show them who’s boss. Tsst, tsst!
At fifty times the distance, you dispatched that ko-bold with three arrows to the neck. I’ve earned a trio to the chest. Seems you slapped him while you’re tickling me. You doona want to kill me, which is a good sign. Maybe this is your way of flirting?
I have an idea. Let’s take off our clothes and fool around on the settee. If I trip and fall and land smack-dab on your cock, then it won’t be your fault.
It figures – it’s always either the butler or the resurrected mate.