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He reached for her and kissed her. It was all at once passionate, as if there was too much in him to contain. He was immediately swept up in it. It took no effort, the difference between swimming on your own and being washed away in a flood.
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When Josey woke up and saw the feathery frost on her windowpane, she smiled. Finally, it was cold enough to wear long coats and tights. It was cold enough for scarves and shirts worn in layers, like camouflage. It was cold enough for her lucky red cardigan, which she swore had a power of its own. She loved this time of year. Summer was tedious with the light dresses she pretended to be comfortable in while secretly sure she looked like a loaf of white bread wearing a belt. The cold was such a relief.
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If a man has so much heat he burns your skin when he touches you, he's the devil. Run away
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Some of the best people i know are fools', Evanelle said. 'The strongest people I know.
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...she was still water in his hands. He didn't know how to hold on.
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Like magic, she felt him getting nearer, felt it like a pull in the pit of her stomach. It felt like hunger but deeper, heavier. Like the best kind of expectation. Ice cream expectation. Chocolate expectation.
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There was an art to the male posterior. That's all there was to it.
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I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.
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Girls like us, when we love, it takes everything we have.
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Misfits need a place to get away, too. All that trying to fit in is exhausting.
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My favorite books are the ones that make me smile for hours after reading them. I want that for my readers, for the sweetness to linger. Sort of like chocolate, but without the calories
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First frost meant letting go, so it was always reason to celebrate.
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Coffee, she'd discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it. Coffee was a lot like love that way. And because Rachel believed in love, she believed in coffee, too.
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It was like the way you wanted sunshine on Saturdays, or pancakes for breakfast. They just made you feel good.
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Men. You can't live with them, you can't shoot them.
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The area was encompassed in a bubble of warm, fragrant steam from the funnel cake deep fryers. It smelled like sweet vanilla cake batter you licked off a spoon.
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Blank-slate friendships were thin and temperamental. She knew that. There was no history there to cement people together, for better or worse.
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Why were girls in such a hurry to grow up? Agatha would never understand. Childhood was magical. Leaving it behind was a magnificent loss.
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But one thing she Rachel did believe in was love. She believed that you could smell it, that you could taste it, that it could change the entire course of your life.
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It was the best first kiss in the history of first kisses. It was as sweet as sugar. And it was warm, as warm as pie. The whole world opened up and I fell inside. I don't know where I was, but I didn't care. I didn't care because the only person who mattered was there with me.
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When you're a teenager, your friends are your life. When you grow up, friendships seem to get pushed further and further back, until it seems like a luxury, a frivolity, like a bubble bath.
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It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.
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Happiness is a risk. If you’re not a little scared, then you’re not doing it right.
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It had always fascinated him that she'd consumed so many words, that her head was full of stories, told a thousand different ways.