299 Quotes by A.G. Howard

A childish story take, and with a gentle hand, lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined in Memory's mystic band...thus grew the world of Wonderland.

Jeb smiles—a genuine Jebediah Holt grin, complete with dimples. Such a beautiful distraction. “I love you, skater girl.” The nickname winds through me, comforting and sweet. I smooth my palm across his shoulder. “Say it again.”“I love you.”“No . . . the other part,” I plead.He pulls my body to his, so our mouths come together in a warm, soft kiss. “Skater girl,” he whispers against me, brushing hair from my face.

I vow on my life-magic that you’ll be my first in every way . . . in marriage and everything that goes with it.

Ever since I was small, opera has been a living, breathing part of me. The problem is that as I’ve grown, it’s become more demanding… an entity that controls me. Once a song speaks to my subconscious, the notes become a toxin I have to release through my diaphragm, my vocal cords, my tongue.

Morpheus places his hand on Jeb's busy fingers, eyes opened to slits. "Ah, my pretty pseudo elf." He takes labored breath. "is it time at last to express our unrequited feelings?

You can put me down now," I grump."I don't know. It's a lot easier to save your ass when I have it riding on my shoulder.

I'm going to fall in love with an artist. And we'll have two kids and live in the country. A quiet life, so we can hear our muses and answer when they call. Tipping up my chin to meet his gaze, he gives me a tender, starlit smile—one that melts my insides. "I like your version better.

You can’t come in without an invitation.”He leans a shoulder against Alison’s framed photo of a wheat field at harvest. “That so?” His boot heel nudges the door behind him, shutting out the storm and the scent of rain. “Last I checked, I wasn’t a vampire,” he says, his voice low.My fists clench tighter, and I step backward onto the line of carpet that borders the edge of the living room. “You sure have a lot in common with one.”“Because I suck?”“More proof. You just read my mind.

Poor control-freak Jeb. Your world’s way off-kilter when little Alyssa’s not tripping over her chastity belt. Is that it, bad boy?