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“I used to underline passages in my English books, because certain lines crawled off the page, because those lines were magic and they meant something on a cosmic scale.”
― Hannah Abigail Clarke, The Scapegracers

“He tells me that he knows Max from freshman year—roughly twenty years—and I remember that a huge number of Oberlin friends are here and ask what bonds them all for life.
He says "No one else will be friends with us.”
― Melissa Bank, The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing

“Teasdale doesn't have money for an attorney," he said. "Especially one from Boston. Who are you, really?"
Sidney lifted her chin. "An attorney from Boston."
"You don't sound like it."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Like an attorney?"
He scoffed. "No, you have that droning drivel down. You don't sound Boston."
She shrugged. "I didn't start out there."
"You sound like Sawyer," he said with a nod toward wherever Sawyer had headed. She refused to turn around to find out.
"Well, I'm sure there are more than just two of us from---"
"You know him," Crane said, narrowing his eyes.
Sidney's tongue faltered, and she cleared her throat.
"You're from the same place, aren't you?" he asked. "The same little hick town."
"Because we both have an accent?" she asked, laughing, hoping it would cover up her lie.
"Because of how I just saw him look at you," Crane said, studying Sidney with a grin. "Like a lovesick schoolboy. Holy shit, you're her>."
Sidney's breath felt trapped in her chest, unable to move in or out, just held captive there. Sawyer had a her? And she was it? "I---I'm who?"
"The girl he came to town all messed up over," Crane said, crossing his own arms. "A hundred years ago. Well, well, well."
All messed up over.
After punching out his own father.
Defending her.
Damn it if all her carefully constructed and ancient defenses weren't crumbling around her regarding him. The boy who shattered her already shaky confidence. The reason she bitterly swore off love and dove into work, into making herself a hard and formidable beast. A beast without people skills but still. And now...
"We were friends in high school, yes," Sidney managed to push out, her voice sounding decidedly wobbly. "That has no bearing on Mr. Teasdale's case."
"Which came to you how, again?" Crane asked.
Sidney smiled. "I'll ask the questions."
Crane winked, and she so much wanted to slug him. "Nice deflection. What firm are you with?"
"Finley and Blossom."
"Blossom?" he asked. And it wasn't about the name. It was recognition. Shit.
"Yes, sir."
"His damn niece," Crane said, slapping a big hand against the ladder. "I forgot she was a lawyer. Damn it. She sent you."
Oh, seven kinds of hell, now this wall was disintegrating, too. She needed a suit of armor.
"Everything okay?" said a voice from directly behind her. A voice that sent shock waves to all her nether regions, especially coupled with thee hand that rested on the back of her neck. Crap, she needed more than armor. Sidney needed a force field.
"I work for her," Sidney said, ignoring Sawyer's question and fighting the urge to settle back against him.
"And you need to bring back the win," Crane said, chuckling.
God help her if she was ever up against this asshole in court.”
― Sharla Lovelace, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“You knew I was there from the start."
He didn't flinch. "Yeah, I knew."
I didn't want to find that titillating or hot. But I did. Damn it.
But I was an actress. I could fake it.
"Well, then I guess I have to ask, Did you expect me to turn away from a show so freely offered?" When he blinked in surprise, I tutted in reproach. "Who would suspect you were an exhibitionist. Tell me----did it get you off knowing I was watching? Or would anyone looking on do the trick?"
Lucian huffed out a laugh, as though he couldn't believe my audacity but kind of liked it. His lids lowered as his gaze slid back to my mouth. And everything went hazy, the air between us too heavy. The rumble of his voice rippled along my skin, licked up my trembling thighs.
"Do you really want me to answer that, Em? Knowing you might not like my reply?"
Oh, the arrogance. I sucked in a breath, ready to tell him off. His eyes glinted with hot sparks, as though he wanted me to lay into him, like it would be the excuse he needed to do the same.
But it wasn't violence I pictured. It was sex. Frantic, sweaty, angry...”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Well, don't you look all pleased with yourself, Baby Prince," Naina Kohli said. She had known Vansh his whole life and had the only voice on earth that had this particular impact on him. A potent combination of reprimand and amusement that made Vansh want to wipe his face like a toddler caught eating dirt, while also making him feel like no one else ate dirt quite as impressively as he did.
"And don't you look resplendent, Knightlina," he said, raising his glass of celebratory bubbly at her.
A flash of anger slipped past her guarded brown eyes. She hated her given name---enough to have legally changed it at eighteen. Vansh was the only person on earth who got away with using it anymore. And he only used it when that tone of hers made the otherwise nonexistent orneriness bubble up inside him. Then she smiled and did a quick half turn showcasing her charcoal-gray silk pantsuit.
"Not bad for the spurned ex, ha?" she offered.
"Not at all bad for the spurned fake ex," he countered.”
― Sonali Dev, The Emma Project

“You said you’d welcome competition, yet you went and pulled some strings to drive away the first person to challenge you.â€�
“I told you already. There must’ve been a clerical error.� She crossed her arms. “And scared? Please. My barbecue’s the best—I could beat anyone’s sauce, any day.� Her voice squeaked on the last word, and he let one corner of his mouth lift.
“From what I heard around the market this morning, it’s your ²µ°ù²¹²Ô»å´Ú²¹³Ù³ó±ð°ù’s sauce, not yours.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Stirring Up Love

“Failure.â€� The word popped out, and he instantly wanted to wrangle it back in, because the spark in Simone’s amber eyes vanished like a doused flame.
“What?� Her voice went flat, like hammered steel. A tone he recognized as the same phony apathy he used to disguise big feelings when they threatened to break free.
He’d hurt her, and he hated himself for it. But with the ease of someone with a knack for making bad situations worse, he said, “I bet you’re terrified of failing. I bet your whole existence hinges on the image of success, of being on top, and without it, you’re nothing.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Stirring Up Love

“My meal from Honey and Hickory came with a side of dysentery straight out of Oregon Trail.’â€� Finn now spat out the quote against the echo of Simone’s accusation, reciting from memory a review he’d found on a late-night, liquor-fueled deep dive into all things Honey and Hickory. “That’s a direct quote from a one-star review I found for Simone’s historic family restaurant online.â€�
Simone strode forward and claimed center stage. “Written by a disgruntled cook who was fired for never showing up to work. It hardly classifies as empirical evidence.�
“L´Ç´Ç°ì, Ms. Blake,â€� he said, leaning heavy on the honorific like she had, gratified when her eyes narrowed. “Beyond Honey and Hickory’s subpar reviews, your generic flavors can’t match the nuance of Finn’s Secret Sauce. You’re a mom-and-pop barbecue joint with no soul, stuck in the past.â€� Directing his next words to the investors, he said, “Whereas I’m all heart, focused on the future of barbecue. Sustainable, organic, outside-the-box flavor blends.â€�
Simone clicked her tongue. “Organic? Wow, super cutting edge. If this was 1999.�
Hands on her hips, she angled away from him, toward the crowd. “Honey and Hickory was farm to table long before it was fashionable, and we cook with locally sourced meat and home-grown produce.�
“Like you had anything to do with that? Your grandfather probably set up those contacts while you were in diapers.� He turned his focus on the audience; two could play at that game.
“Don’t let Ms. Blake fool you. She’s been at the helm of the restaurant for less than a year, yet she’s trying to convince you she played a role in Honey and Hickory’s decades of success.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Stirring Up Love

“Society really is going straight to hell now that we're rewarding criminals. You should be ashamed of yourself."
I don't miss Joelle's eye roll, the way her chest heaves as she inhales and pivots back to the woman. "Actually, I think this is a sign of a good society, helping people who need it. And the only person here who should be ashamed is you. I make the best damn matcha latte in all of Portland and you didn't like it. That means your taste buds are crap."
The start of a chuckle falls from my lips before I clear my throat.
"And on top of that, you went out of your way to make a kid cry. Pretty damn shameful all around."
The lady's jaw plummets all the way to the floor at what Joelle said. "That's it. I'm out of here."
"Thank god," Joelle mutters. I hold back a laugh.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Kade, you are not clean, quiet, or willing to go to bed at a reasonable hour. And the only reason you don't drink is because you can't afford alcohol.”
― Amy Bellows, A Handkerchief for Kade

“This is about my encyclopaedia, isn't it?"
His face hardened. "I don't like what you're implying, Emily."
I gave a disbelieving laugh. "I don't like being accused of professional misconduct."
His reaction had bolstered my suspicions. I'd heard rumors that Rose was working on his own encyclopaedia of the Folk--- a project that had reportedly occupied much of his career. He'd said nothing to me about it before or after my book came out, but there had been a distinct cooling of our already cool relations.
"I don't wish to imply anything untoward," I said. "So I will simply say it: you resent me. You spent years on your own encyclopaedia, obsessing over minor details as you always do, and you were too blinded by your own arrogance to think that someone else might beat you to the punch. Ruining my reputation will be to your benefit, won't it? I've often noticed, sir, that for all we scholars shake our heads at the amorality of the Folk, on many occasions we demonstrate that we lack the high ground.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“I can reuse the yarn and turn it into something that can be actually worn without hurting Tante's feelings. She dismissed any hope of me ever finding it after, and I quote, a vile sorceress must have snatched your birthday present."
From her hiding place, Maleficent's heart beat hard suddenly, a single throbbing jolt.”
― Sara Raasch, A Sword In Slumber

“...if anyone notices the tightening in his trousers, well, that's their fault for staring at his cock.”
― Tavia Lark, The Sword-Witch's Heart

“DeeLight to SammyBaker: Since you're not checking texts, I'm hunting you via Instagram and FB messages. Don't make me start publicly Snapchatting you. I know what you did to Macon. If you had any honor you'd get your butt home.

DeeLight to SammyBaker: You'll have to do it eventually.
And I have knives, Sam. Sharp as shit knives.

DeeLight to SammyBaker: Did I mention I can debone a chicken in under a minute with those knives?

DeeLight to SammyBaker: CHICKEN!”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Third children are the worst. They have to be. It's science. To stop the world from overpopulating, the third child always has to be the catalyst to make parents stop reproducing.”
― Saxon James, Possessive Puckboy