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If you gave me four minutes, I could give you the world.
If you gave me four minutes, I could give you the world.
What every one pump ( okay a few) chump says
She knew what she was doing in life. I didn’t even know what I was doing for dinner.
She knew what she was doing in life. I didn’t even know what I was doing for dinner.
Funny… I know what I’m doing my life AND also don’t know what I’m making for dinner…. What is that?
He smirked and mimicked a Yoda accent. “Fear is the path to the dark side.” Okay, the fact that this guy just quoted Star Wars meant he was sexy, smart, and maybe a little geeky, and I wasn’t sure if my ovaries could handle that combination.
He smirked and mimicked a Yoda accent. “Fear is the path to the dark side.” Okay, the fact that this guy just quoted Star Wars meant he was sexy, smart, and maybe a little geeky, and I wasn’t sure if my ovaries could handle that combination.
my bet would be that an alien had invaded his body or something. Soon I’d be beamed up too, a blessed end to my night.
my bet would be that an alien had invaded his body or something. Soon I’d be beamed up too, a blessed end to my night.
Rain or shine, my big sister had my back.
“You’re not so good at burning both ends of the candle, are you?” Mendez’s voice was light. “Even burning one end is too much for me. My candle is for decoration only.”
He’d said it’d be easy. I’d sit on a bench and that’d be it. Riiiiight. This was what I got for believing the government.
Because when it came down to it, big sisters never told you the stuff you really wanted to know.
Denial was not just a river in Egypt—it was a force of nature.
“You’d disobey orders?” I finally asked. “Why?” His gaze was soft as he responded. “For you.”
He was a spy. I was a civilian. He had a license to kill. I killed my plants and felt bad about it.
How pathetic did I have to be for someone to literally be ordered to kiss me? Desperate, party of one, your table is ready.
For a guy who knew fifty ways to kill someone, he’d forgotten the top way to die—annoy a girl one too many times.
So much for “hackers before backers”—our unofficial code not to let money turn us against a fellow practitioner of our trade.
I hoped his socks were always wet and whoever he ended up marrying suffered from back acne.
