E.J. Frost
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Born
in San Diego, The United States
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Genre
Influences
Member Since
December 2009
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/ejfrost
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“Cynnie’s disappeared while I’ve shut up shop. So has Ty, without even giving me a hug. He’s getting a dozen noogies for that the next time I see him. I lock up, checking and double-checking my security. On the way back from checking the manual lock on the fire escape door, I find the dress Cynnie was wearing draped across the foot of the staircase up into the loft like a fallen flower petal.
“Baby?”
Her wild giggle answers me.
Grinning, I scoop up the dress and carry it up the stairs.
I expect her to be n*ked in the bed, but she’s not. There’s no sign of her.
“Baby, where are you?”
Another wild giggle. With the open plan of my apartment, the stairwell, and the screen of trees in the loft, the acoustics can be weird. I was sure the first giggle came from upstairs. Now, it sounds like her giggle is coming from downstairs.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, bumble baby,” I call.
Insane giggles. I spin around in place on the landing, trying to locate the source of those irresistible giggles.
“When I find you, I’m going to b*te my bumble very hard on her b*ttom,” I growl.
“I sting you!”
That was definitely from my bedroom. I tear through the doorway and look around. No naughty bumble in my bed. I yank open the closet doors. No naughty bumble in my closets. There aren’t many hiding places in my bedroom. There’s no way she could fit between the trees.
Then I spot the black rectangle half-hidden in the rumpled bedding. A phone. She’s put it on speaker and dimmed the screen. That sneaky little bee.
I grab the phone and growl into it. “I’m going to find you.”
“I fly away!”
“You’ll never get away from me, little girl. And when I catch you, I’m going to eat you up.” I grip the phone, so turned on my hand shakes, muscles bunching. I pant into the phone. “I’m going to find you, wherever you are, and rail you into the ground.”
She squees. There’s a very faint echo, and I realize where she is.
Game on.”
― Max's Bumble
“Baby?”
Her wild giggle answers me.
Grinning, I scoop up the dress and carry it up the stairs.
I expect her to be n*ked in the bed, but she’s not. There’s no sign of her.
“Baby, where are you?”
Another wild giggle. With the open plan of my apartment, the stairwell, and the screen of trees in the loft, the acoustics can be weird. I was sure the first giggle came from upstairs. Now, it sounds like her giggle is coming from downstairs.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, bumble baby,” I call.
Insane giggles. I spin around in place on the landing, trying to locate the source of those irresistible giggles.
“When I find you, I’m going to b*te my bumble very hard on her b*ttom,” I growl.
“I sting you!”
That was definitely from my bedroom. I tear through the doorway and look around. No naughty bumble in my bed. I yank open the closet doors. No naughty bumble in my closets. There aren’t many hiding places in my bedroom. There’s no way she could fit between the trees.
Then I spot the black rectangle half-hidden in the rumpled bedding. A phone. She’s put it on speaker and dimmed the screen. That sneaky little bee.
I grab the phone and growl into it. “I’m going to find you.”
“I fly away!”
“You’ll never get away from me, little girl. And when I catch you, I’m going to eat you up.” I grip the phone, so turned on my hand shakes, muscles bunching. I pant into the phone. “I’m going to find you, wherever you are, and rail you into the ground.”
She squees. There’s a very faint echo, and I realize where she is.
Game on.”
― Max's Bumble
“He retrieves a fluffy white robe from the bathroom and drapes me in it. Then he sits next to me and opens the black folder.
Inside, there’s a single sheet of paper, covered in words and symbols. There’s a rough square in the center of the page, surrounded by wavy lines. Is that supposed to be water? Inside the square, there are small symbols: cliffs, mountains, an oval lake. The symbols are labeled. The Pillowy Mountains. Shipwreck Cove. Bathtub Lake. Pirate’s Lookout. Rum-un Cliffs.
There are three fancy Xs on the map, drawn with curlicues and shaded in. One in Rum-un Cliffs, one in the Pillowy Mountains, and one in Pirate’s Lookout.
“Is this a treasure map?” I ask, tracing my fingers over it. “Did you draw this? It’s so cool.”
He nods. “X marks the spot, see? You have an hour to find the three treasures and bring them back to me.”
A treasure hunt? He’s made a treasure hunt for me?
A n4ked treasure hunt?
“Pirate treasure?” I ask, blinking up at him.
“Uh-huh.”
I can play pirates. I have the perfect thing.”
― Daddy P.I.
Inside, there’s a single sheet of paper, covered in words and symbols. There’s a rough square in the center of the page, surrounded by wavy lines. Is that supposed to be water? Inside the square, there are small symbols: cliffs, mountains, an oval lake. The symbols are labeled. The Pillowy Mountains. Shipwreck Cove. Bathtub Lake. Pirate’s Lookout. Rum-un Cliffs.
There are three fancy Xs on the map, drawn with curlicues and shaded in. One in Rum-un Cliffs, one in the Pillowy Mountains, and one in Pirate’s Lookout.
“Is this a treasure map?” I ask, tracing my fingers over it. “Did you draw this? It’s so cool.”
He nods. “X marks the spot, see? You have an hour to find the three treasures and bring them back to me.”
A treasure hunt? He’s made a treasure hunt for me?
A n4ked treasure hunt?
“Pirate treasure?” I ask, blinking up at him.
“Uh-huh.”
I can play pirates. I have the perfect thing.”
― Daddy P.I.
“We must stand together, realizing the complexity of our histories, both personal and social, choosing when we can tolerate each other’s company and when we cannot. We must never pretend to be experts on each other’s lives, never belittle the deep differences that do exist or pretend that we do not see the places of exposed pain.”
― A Restricted Country
― A Restricted Country
“History is not a dead thing or a sure thing. It lived with our choices and our dreams. It is the story of our glories and our sadnesses. It is at different times a lover, an enemy, a teacher, a prophet. It is always a collective memory as complicated and contradictory as people who lived it, but it is always a people’s story. Let our tale be marked by our knowledge of what had to be done, and let it shine with the passion of our attempt.”
― A Restricted Country
― A Restricted Country
“Labor is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.”
―
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.”
―
“A harmless life, she called a virtuous life,
A quiet life, which was not life at all . . .”
― Aurora Leigh and Other Poems
A quiet life, which was not life at all . . .”
― Aurora Leigh and Other Poems
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Cécile wrote: "Hope you’re staying safe and healthy🥰❤️"Sorry, I just found this! Yes, staying safe and healthy. Very worried about what happens when the UK "opens up" again next week. Fingers crossed! Are you doing okay?


























































