"Actually, since I'm gay I think I should count for two guys instead of just one." - Damien

"If cats understood technology and had opposable thumbs, they'd rule the world." - Sgiach

"Neferet, you're nuttier than squirrel turds"- Stevie Rae

"We are all affected by our pasts, but it is within our power not to let what we have done dictate what we will do." - Grandma Redbird

"By the time Bones announced it was Tammy’s turn, I’d fallen in love with him all over again. Flowers and jewelry worked for most girls as a romantic gesture, but here I was, misty-eyed at watching him show my mother how to stab the shit out of him." - Cat

""Then you remember the dream,” Mencheres stated. “That bodes ill."

The fear of that made my reply snappy. “Hey, Walks Like An Egyptian, how about for once you drop the formal stuff and talk like you live in the twenty-first century?”
“The shit’s gonna splatter, start buggin’, yo,” Mencheres responded instantly."

"His house was a sweeping estate with immaculate lawns and high perimeter hedges. With its eighteenth-century-style architecture, it looked like it was built while Spade had been human. Inside, there were long, grand hallways. Ornate woodwork along the walls. Painted ceilings. Crystal chandeliers. Handwoven tapestries and antique furnishings. A fireplace you could hold a meeting in.
“Where’s the queen?” I muttered irreverently after a doorman had let us in.

“Not your taste, luv?” Bones asked with a knowing look

Not nearly. I’d been brought up in rural Ohio, where my Sunday best would have been a dishrag in comparison to the fabric on the settee we just passed. “Everything is so perfect. I’d feel like I was desecrating something if I sat on it.”
“Then perhaps I should rethink your bedchamber, see if we have something more comfortable in the stables,” a voice teased.

Spade appeared, his dark, spiky hair tousled as if he’d recently been in bed.
Open mouth, insert foot. “Your home is lovely,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll get manners when pigs fly.”"
       

"There was more scrambling on the floor above us. Something was causing an all-out panic. Surely it couldn’t just be the sight of the wraiths? I mean, yeah, they were scary-looking, but this wasn’t a kids’ slumber party they were crashing. This was the stronghold of a Master vampire who’d been around when Jesus walked the earth. You’d think the undead would be a little harder to rattle." - Cat

"He might be having that "so I'm a vampire," conversation sooner rather than later with her. Inhaling the fragrance of her arousal earlier had almost outed him from his coffin, because he'd felt his eyes start to change and fangs press lustfully against his gums of their own accord. Even now, his blood wanted to rush to a particular place, and Chance had to concentrate to send it elsewhere. He pitied human men who had no control over that. The ability to direct his blood where he wanted it to go was just another perk of being a vampire. It beat the hell out of walking around trying to conceal a hard-on, and on the flip side, no vampire ever had to worry about impotence." - Chance

"Oh, stick a sock in it already," he interrupted me with an irritated tone you'd use to scold a child. "You always ramble on so? No wonder your dates went right for your throat. Can't say as I blame them." - Bones 

Hiya! It's been a while!

Maybe I should rename this to "Quote of whenever I remember to post" :P

 

"With a sigh, I sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic [disgusting, btw]. The first man who had tried to kill me had ordered it for me. It was now my drink of choice. Who said I wasn't sentimental?" - Cat

"But I don’t want to go banging on their door, begging them to be my friend.”
“It wouldn’t be begging. If you put on one of those pretty sundresses you wore in Florida instead of this.” She tugged on the hem of my shirt. “It would be flirting.”
I glanced down. It said MY BLOG IS BETTER THAN YOUR VLOG. There wasn’t a thing wrong with it. “How about I show up in my undies?”
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That would definitely make an impression.”

Well, one is a girl who looks about your age, and there’s a boy.” She grinned as she stood. “He’s a hottie.”
A tiny piece of egg caught in my throat. It was seriously gross to hear Mom talking about boys my age. “Hottie? Mom, that’s just weird.”
Mom pushed off from the counter, picked up her plate from the table, and headed to the sink. “Honey, I might be old, but my eyes are still working fine. And they were really working earlier.”
I cringed. Double gross. “Are you turning into a cougar? Is this some sort of midlife crisis I need to be concerned about?”

"Good people see past their own fucking lives."