Cinnamon

“May I request a new uniform? A towel seems inappropriate for the position.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“And she’d also found Logan again. Now he was her … what? New-old boyfriend? Lover? Skype buddy? Pen pal with benefits? Whatever his title, his e-mails filled her inbox. Sometimes he sent five a day, short and quipping. Other times he sent longer, more serious ones. She kept her tone light when she replied. That’d always been her MO—a joke, a jab. A way to deflect from what she was really feeling. A way to keep the nonstop ache of missing him from becoming too painful to survive. And honestly, what was there to say that would come close to what she felt? The moments they’d spent together before he’d shipped out on his latest naval tour had been the most peaceful she could remember—even with her anxiety about her dad. It’d been the first time she’d felt complete in a long time. And then, just like that, he was gone again.”
― Rob Thomas, The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line

“She was prettier than a bouquet of roses and crazier than a headless chicken. Fitting in was not an option.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“Thank goodness for the U.S. Navy. I can at least put off telling Logan. The last thing I need is for my boyfriend to pick a fight with an international crime syndicate.”
― Rob Thomas, The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line