Megan • Reading Books Like a Boss (book blog)

“I want pancakes.”

“What? Right now?”

“No. For breakfast.”

“Oh.” He yawned. “You’d better get up early then.”

“Me? I’m not going to make them.”

“Yeah?” His sleepy voice carried mock sympathy. “Who’s going to make them for you then?”

“You are.”

“Am I? You think I’m going to make you pancakes? Is that how you think it’s going to be?"

"You’re so good at,” I whined. “Besides, if you do, I’ll sit on the counter in a short robe while you cook.”

His soft laughter segued into another yawn. “Oh. Well then.” He kissed my ear again. “Maybe I’ll make you pancakes.”
― Richelle Mead, Succubus on Top

“It’s important to keep up appearances with books,” I explained. “Image goes a long way in this business.”

He dared a look over at me, still nervous but steadily recovering his composure. “I go more for content.”

"Really?” I repositioned slightly so that we were touching again, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing my bare skin. “Because I could have sworn a moment ago you were pretty caught up in outside appearance.”

His eyes shifted down again, but I could see a smile curving his lips. “Well. Some things are so striking, they can’t help but draw attention to themselves.”

"And doesn’t that make you curious about what’s inside?”

"Mostly it makes me want to get you some advanced copies.”

Advanced copies? What did he—?

"Seth? Seth, where—ah, there you are.” Paige turned down our aisle, Doug following behind. She brightened when she saw me, and I felt my stomach sink out of me and hit the floor with a thud as I put two and two together. No. No. It couldn’t be—

"Ah, Georgina. I see you’ve already met Seth Mortensen.”
― Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues

“I’m a succubus.”

He shook his head. “No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You aren’t.”

I was a bit surprised to be having this conversation. “I am too.”

“No. Succubi are flame-eyed and bat-winged. Everyone knows that. They don’t wear jeans and sweaters.”
― Richelle Mead, Succubus Dreams

“This is a, uh, friendship ring right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. If I propose, you’ll know it. For one thing, I’ll be hyperventilating.” A sly smile—surprisingly sexy—turned up his lips. “And it’ll be a ruby.”

“Rubies? No diamonds? Too expensive for the old writer’s salary, huh?”

He made a disparaging grunt at that. “No, I just think diamonds are common, that’s all. If I get married, it’ll be because something uncommon is occurring. Besides, you wear a lot of red, right? I know how important it is for your accessories to match.”
― Richelle Mead, Succubus Dreams