Marsha > Recent Status Updates

This morning, life had been normal. Somehow, in roughly twelve hours, Gwyn had gone from mousy banking representative to notorious internet sensation. Thanks to Vittorio secluding her today, the full reality of her situation hadn't hit her until that moment outside the limo. Then strangers had called her name, clamoring for her to turn, shouting disgustingly invasive questions in a dozen languages.

By game we mean those animals which live in the woods and fields in a state of natural freedom, and which are still good to eat. We say good to eat, because some of these creatures are not properly covered by the title of game, like the foxes, badgers, crows, magpies, screech owls, and others: they are called vermin, bêtes puantes.

The greatest service rendered by chemistry to alimentary science is the discovery or even more the exact comprehension of osmazome. Osmazone is that preeminently sapid part of meat which is soluble in cold water and which differs completely from the extractive part of the meat, which is soluble only in water that is boiling.

"Citizen El-mu-zero-five-nine-delta--" A robotic voice sounde din his head. "You have entered a restricted area," she said. "Your actions are unlawful. Remain motionless. An advisor will be with you shortly." They couldn't see what he saw or hear what he was thinking. But he was no longer scrambled. They knew who he was and what he was doing. And that was the end of it.

Sarah reached her hand. He held it in both his hands and kissed it sweetly. What's the crime in that? Nothing, except it was, for me, hard to ignore the fact that she was old enough to be his mother. To be fair, I feel the same way when I see a much older man with a younger woman. I saw Billy Joel on the street with his young wife and I thought, He should be paying her college tuition, not having sex with her.

We went to one of Freddie's places, wittily called "Freddie's World." It was a cavernous space with a huge circular bar in the middle and throngs of people mingling about. And there seemed to be no man drought here. I went right, my eyes peeled for any woman with light lines on her forehead and creases stretching from the bottom of her nose to the corners of her mouth. All I saw were baby-faced cuties.

Georgia put her coffee down. "I don't want to be one of those single women who hasn't had sex in three years. I want the charge of someone on top of me. Kissing me. Holding me. But I don't want to have sex with assholes who pretend they like me when they really don't. I think hiring a prostitute is the way to go." "But you're paying them. Doesn't that take the fun out of it?" Georgia shrugged. "Maybe."

His eyes in the firelight glittered as if there were sparks dancing in their depths, and Georgia knew she was a goner. At least for now, anyway. She might regret it all later, but if she did, she would still walk away with some amazing memories. "So," he said softly, "we'll take the complications as they come and do as we choose?" "Yes," she said.

"You didn't choose to get heart disease, did you?" He shot her a look. "No one chooses to get heart disease." "Exactly. So how can you be at fault for your brother's inability to cope? You could even say that the stress of having the twins pushed him over the edge, but you wouldn't blame the boys, would you?" "Of course not. As I said, it's complicated."

The look he shot her should have been lascivious, but she sensed there was something else underneath it. Something he wasn't planning to share with her. Instead of doing as he'd practically ordered and hightailing it back upstairs, she sank onto the couch next to him. "Is it weird to think of sharing a bed?" He shrugged without looking at her. "Not weird. Different."

"I like you," Phillip continued, his smile deepening. "And I think you like me. We're obviously a match int he bedroom, which not even couples in love can always say. If we establish some ground rules fromt he beginning, no one gets hurt. We're just two people raising a child and living our lives together." Rules for marriage. How...safe. And clear. She did like rules.

Mila walked down the gravel road to the amphitheatre, Jordan beside her, and some of her tension eased. It was home, she thought as she looked at the road shaded by trees, their leaves brown and gold as though they didn't know whether to mourn or celebrate the coming winter. The grass around them had begun to lose its colour, too.

The nighttime elixir she'd prepared and given him--a mix of bourbon, because he had no rum, honey, lemon juice and cayenne pepper--had put him out cold. Recalling the expression on his face when he'd tasted the concoction nearly made her burst out laughing. It definitely wasn't the best-tasting remedy, but it worked wonders. He would feel like a new man when he woke up. Well...better than he did before he'd taken it.

Tressa smiled in a way that suggested she'd caught the sly remark he'd tossed. "Give me ten minutes," she said and left the room. Roth pressed his palms against the countertop, leaned forward and shook his head. The logical portion of his brain warned him away, while the irrational part kept steering him toward Tressa. Either he stopped, or he would crash and burn.

The 12-ounce bottle: Bottles are always a bit pricier than cans, and I think people attempt to justify the price because bottles are supposed to taste less metallic and stay cold longer. But the real reason they're more expensive is because the bottle makes them a bit "classier" in the eyes of bourgeoisie.

"I know that, intellectually. But after Dylan came out, my dad pulls me aside, says he's so glad one of us will still give him grandkids, carry on the name. And I just could't get the words out after that. It felt like I'd be letting him down. Feels like everyone expects something different from me than what I am." "I don't. You can be yourself with me. And I think your friends and family could adjust."

"You sure you want to ride back to base with me?" Bacon unlocked the truck. "That one friend of Curly's girlfriend...she seemed kinda sweet on you. You could stay and talk later if you want. Someone will run you back." "Nah. My sleep schedule's all fucked-up because of the move still," Wes lied, but not really. He had been sleeping for shit, even worse than usual.

Dustin wasn't nervous. Just because Wes had put it out there that they could go back to his room didn't mean they had to. Didn't mean his pulse had to rev like a personnel carrier, all loud and roaring in his ears. Didn't mean his fingers had to suddenly have nothing better to do than shred napkins. And it definitely didn't mean he needed to keep up the idiotic rambling.

He looked across the table at Meagan. He wanted to see her in her bridesmaid's dress, carrying her blue rose. He wanted to see Ivy in her flower-girl finery, too, traipsing down the aisle with Candy's doga dog. "It sounds like it's going to be a spectacular ceremony."

Oh. Right. Weird how she hadn't thought about her big plan of moving away. Of starting her new venture--a photo blog--since...when? All this stuff with Colton? "Um..." Ash cleared her throat. "No, I'll be here for the summer. Working."

"I can't believe I'm telling you this, but here goes. One of our equestrian clients accused me of harassment when I used to work as a trainer. None of it was true. But my employer believed her over me, although there wasn't any proof, and even less motivation on my part." She studied his expression. Either he was telling her the truth, or he was the consummate liar. "Okay. I believe you."

Still, he couldn't stop himself from hoping that over the next couple of days he could convince her to give this thing a shot. It was too good, too right, to be for just one week. Once they were back in the house, Renee turned to him and gave him a devilish smile, and that was all he needed to put away those thoughts for another time. He would deal with all that later.

The lace halter of the dress showed off Jessica's tan skin, the bodice hugged her curves and the skirt flowed to the floor in waves of fabric. Renee felt a pang of jealousy for her sister's height and perfect proportions. She was certain no wedding dress would ever look that good on her. Not that she was anywhere near needing or wanting one, she reminded herself.

She didn't budge. Renee swore under her breath at her idiocy and steeled herself for what would assuredly be a veryb not-sexy week full of helping Jessica and staring at a guy who hardly knew she existed. Then she finally managed to walk out of thebathroom and through the terminal exit doors to baggage claim. She found herself standing in a cavernous room studded with numbered carousels slowly circling luggage.

As he walked out to his car, Gabe smiled to himself. He'd looked forward to reconnecting with a few old friends. He'd never expected to run into Annie Jennings. But he'd managed to piece together something that a simple kiss had nearly destroyed over a year ago. "Mission accomplished," he murmured.

He'd been half-frozen and exhausted, and she'd taken care of him. It was the first time he'd ever got a sense of what it might be like to be married--and he'd enjoyed it. He and his brothers had always avoided deep romantic involvements. They'd all had their own particular reasons for doing so, but lately, Jamie was beginning to acknowledge that such strictly held beliefs could be questioned.

"Take it off," he said. "I'll rinse it in cold water." Jamie reached for the buttons, but Regan drew back. The impulse made her doubts clear. She wasn't ready to do this. She wasn't ready to shed her clothes and surrender to his touch. She wasn't sure how she felt about him or whether she could keep herself from falling in love.

"Did I tell you my friend finally got back to me about the origin of your tattoo?" she asked, shifting further down his thighs and reaching out with her free hand to touch the symbols and scrolls. He wanted that information, but he saw she was trying to avoid what he needed to say. "No, you didn't. You can tell me about it later," he said. "I want to--" She put her fingers over his mouth.

She smiled at him and thenm threw her head back. "I lolve how on TV and in movies this part is never a big deal. But in real life..." "Yeah, in real life it's one of these things that has to be dealt with," he said. "Okay, so, the bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right," she said, kissing his shoulder. "I'm going to clean up and I'll meet you back here."

He should have been happy she was working the case so hard--that she was more determined than ever to catch the arsonist. But that was the other part of why he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking, bringing her here. If the arsonist was here, this was the last place Braden wanted Sam to be--not that Sam cared what he wanted. She only cared about catching the arsonist. She'd stepped up her investigation.