How to Howl at the Moon Quotes

“Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m already sorrier than you could possibly imagine. Now you promise me you won’t interfere, or mention it to anyone, or poke your nose in, or follow Mr. Traynor along the street when he comes into town,...”

Lily snorted. “As if I would tell anyone! You think I want it spread around that my son’s into puppy play?”

Lance felt his temper supernova. Yes, that was really quite an interesting sensation, the way the cells inside his chest spontaneously burst into flame. “I AM NOT INTO PUPPY PLAY! AND HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT TERM?”

Lily waved her hand as if he was being silly. “Please. Like I was born fifty years old.”

“I want to be stricken dead. Right now,” Lance groaned and hid his face.

“Oh, all right. Fine! You’re doing some reconnaissance in your dog form, and that’s all it is, and it’s none of my business, and I’ve always been a virgin. You and your brothers and sister were all conceived by supernatural means. Happy?”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“As if reading his mind, Lily huffed. “You’re as predictable as the spring rains, son of mine, and as boring as drying paint. Unless there’s an emergency, you’re home every night by seven, you eat dinner by yourself, go for a run, watch exactly one hour of TV by yourself, and go to bed at ten o’clock. If God ever loses his watch, he only has to look at Lance Beaufort to get back on schedule.”
...
“I’ve been having trouble with my phone,” he tried.

Lily took two strides to the desk, leaned over it with both hands braced on the surface, and stared.

“Okay, yes! I have been over there. But it’s for work. And…and it’s work related!”

“Oh? Explain that to me, because I thought you were the sheriff, not in training for a role in Lassie.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“At this juncture? Huh. It was just possible Tim had finally met someone as bad with people as he was himself.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“Mother, just like the last fifty-five thousand times you’ve mentioned it, I have no intention of getting married and having a family. You’re just going to have to content yourself with the grandchildren you already have.” ...
...
His mother narrowed her eyes at him. He could see her mind working on how to get him to come around. She was never going to give up, and she would be fit and healthy enough to badger him about it for years and years.
...
Lance had heard humans talk about the tenacity of Jewish mothers. He didn’t know any, but he’d be surprised if they could hold a candle to the relentless herding instinct of a quickened mother who was descended on both sides from border collies.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“He looked like someone cosplaying Eric Estrada except, yeah, way cuter.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“Attached? Is that like there’s an invisible thread going from here.” Tim put his hand on his heart. “To here,” he touched Lance’s breastbone, his eyes wide and purposefully dewy. “And if we got too far apart it would snap and I would commence to bleed inwardly?” Lance rolled his eyes. “God help me. Now it’s Jane Eyre.” “Aha! How do you know it’s Jane Eyre?” Lance’s face went a little pink.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“Okay. What about this. Can you make up a few buckets of compost tea in the greenhouse? And then maybe you can help with dinner. Lance said he’d be done with work early tonight so he should be here any minute.” “Fine,” Lily sniffed. Then her eyes narrowed and darted around the grass. “Rabbit!” And she was off.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“Oh, my dear son.” She squeezed his hands. “He makes you dance.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“...But you, Lance, you've always needed someone special. And...I knew it was right when I met Tim. He needs you too, so much."

Lance just looked at her helplessly, unable to say anything.

"Oh, my dear son." She squeezed his hands. "He makes you dance.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon

“Tim had seen a documentary once about how certain carnivorous plants lure in food with tiny, fine, hair-like cilia, which wave and wave and gradually draw the speck of food—or fly as the case might be—down into their gullet. Talking to Lily Beaufort was like that. Her eyes were like information vacuums and her sympathetic little murmurs were like the tiny waving cilia hairs drawing out his life story with seductive ease.

And maybe Tim had been in need of someone to talk to, because he could not shut up.”
― Eli Easton, How to Howl at the Moon