❀ Minesha ❀

“Why me, Bailey?” Ambrose shot back, his voice too loud for the sober setting. “Why not you, Ambrose?” Bailey bit back immediately, making Ambrose start as if Bailey had convicted him of a crime. “Why me? Why am I in a flipping wheelchair?” “And why Paulie and Grant? Why Jesse and Beans? Why do terrible things happen to such good people?” Ambrose asked. “Because terrible things happen to everyone, Brosey. We're all just so caught up in our own crap that we don't see the shit everyone else is wading through.”
― Amy Harmon, Making Faces

“Fern has Ugly Girl Syndrome.” Bailey said, out of the blue. “Also known as UGS … She grew up thinking she was ugly. She doesn’t realize that she shed the ugly a long time ago. She’s beautiful now. And she’s just as pretty on the inside, which is a side benny of UGS.”
― Amy Harmon, Making Faces

“Speaking of names and all-time favorite romances, Bailey told me you write under a pen name. I've been really curious about that."
Fern groaned loudly. She shook her fist toward Bailey's house. "Curse your big mouth, Bailey Sheen" She looked at Ambrose with trepidation. "You are going to think I'm some stalker chick. That I'm totally obsessed. But you have to remember that I came up with this alter ego when I was sixteen and I was a bit obsessed. Okay, I'm still a bit obsessed."
"With what?" Ambrose was confused.
"With you," Fern's response was muffled as she buried her forehead in his chest, but Ambrose still heard her. He laughed and forced her chin up so he could see her face. "I still don't understand what that has to do with your pen name."
Fern sighed. "It's Amber Rose."
"Ambrose?"
"Amber Rose," Fern corrected.
"Amber Rose?" Ambrose sputtered.
"Yes," Fern said in a very, very small voice. And Ambrose laughed for a very, very long time.”
― Amy Harmon, Making Faces

“He cleared his throat. “You need to pick a safe word.”
“What on earth is a safe word?”
He smothered a sigh. This was proving to be more work than he thought it’d be. “It’s a word you use when you want things to stop.”
“How about I use the word ‘stop’?” She sounded sarcastic.
“That’s not how it works. You need a word that you wouldn’t normally use during sex.”
“Fine. How about ‘dumbass’?”
“I don’t think you’re getting into the spirit of this.”
“Really? You think?”
“Fine. Dumbass it is.” There was no dealing with her when she was in this mood. “If you use your safe word, everything stops.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath. “Dumbass,” she shouted.
Andrew wasn’t sure what to do next. This was not going the way it did in the books.”
― Janet Elizabeth Henderson, Goody Two Shoes