“I used to tell your mother she looked like Sophia Lauren." He looks at me, frowning, and then it registers. "Oh God, some guy's using that line on you, isn't he?""Not just 'some guy'." I tell him. "The guy.”
―
Melina Marchetta,
Saving Francesca
“One of these days, you're going to fall in love with some guy, and you're not going to know what to do with yourself.” ― Jane Roberts
“She is the embodiment of a bad decision. The twin of danger and desire. The fine line between deadly and divine. And I can feel myself drowning.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Remind me to to make you smile like that again, when you aren't dying, and I have all the time in the world to memorise it.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Men would likely go extinct without women to coddle them.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“I used to refer to her as social lubricant, but Robert made me promise to never use that phrase again.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“Because beasts don’t get the beauty.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“You know it’s not the words that bother me, it’s—” “It’s the meaning behind them,” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“So I’m you’re wildflower, huh?” My cheeks heat. I might have gone a little overboard with my writing. I’m no Robert Frost, but I can get inspired too. “I love when you get all shy on me. It’s cute.” “I’m not shy.” ― Lauren Asher, Redeemed
“Calvin sits up, jerking his guitar to stand on one thigh. “Mr. Okai.” He swallows. “I didn’t realize you were standing there.”“My niece tells me your name is Calvin.”Calvin looks between the two of us, working this out. Robert, with his smooth dark skin and meticulously short hair. Me: pale and freckled with a chaotic, weedy bun on top of my head.Robert reaches out a hand, and Calvin immediately takes it, standing. “Yes. Calvin McLoughlin.”This makes my uncle laugh, and the boom of it eases the line of Calvin’s shoulders. “That’s a pretty Irish name for someone with such a good tan.”“My mam is Greek,” he explains, and then looks back and forth between me and Robert again, as if asking a question of his own.Robert tilts his head to me, releasing Calvin’s hand and saying in turn, “I married her uncle.”Calvin smiles, quietly saying, “Ah.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“I'd never thought about what my favorite color was before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing. Not until I looked into a pair of fiery blue eyes and realized that perhaps burning was a painless thing. Not until I looked into a pair of sky blue eyes and realized that perhaps falling was a peaceful thing. I'd never thought about what my favorite color was before because I hadn't seen one that was worthy of the title. Until now, that is. "Blue," I say, my voice low.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“For every girl who has ever felt powerless” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Innocent?” Lauren snapped. “Is she really? And I suppose Meatball is a little doggie serial killer. Or maybe he sneaks onto campus and sells crack to the red-shirts.” ― Robert Muchamore, Mad Dogs
“Robert is, of course, at the theater, but it’s true that Jeff isn’t alone. Behind him, Lulu holds up two bottles of tequila, and behind her is Gene, Lulu’s . . . bed-friend, holding a bag of limes and sporting the world’s most enormous mustache.I take the bag of limes from him. “Are you guessing my weight tonight?”Jeff laughs in a loud bark before heading into the kitchen, but Gene does a bewildered double take. “What?”“Do I get to shoot a water gun to knock down the ducks?”I see the moment he gets it because his giant mustache twitches under his suppressed grin. “I’ll take my limes home if you’re going to be sassy, miss.”“You look like an old-timey auction barker,” I say. “Or Yosemite Sam. I have this sudden urge to buy a few head of cattle.” Behind me, Calvin snickers.“You wish you could grow a ’stache like this.”I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I can’t even hear what you’re saying through that thing.”“I told him it’s awful.” Lulu tugs at it and Gene leans away.He smoothes it down proudly. “I’m so lazy, and this is much more low maintenance than shaving.”I don’t need to look that closely to see he’s clearly waxed and styled it with a comb. It’s really not an afterthought mustache; it’s the kind that a person chooses from a book on various mustache styles—the perfect accessory for his very carefully crafted I don’t care enough to even glance in the mirror look (which Lulu tells me takes him a long time in front of the mirror).” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“Wishful thinking,” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“We found out yesterday that Robert has won the Drama Desk Award for Possessed, a huge Broadway honor. Jeff—who is over the moon about it—is planning a fiftieth birthday party/award celebration. Of course I have to be there . . . and of course Calvin will be, too.No way am I going solo. I need major reinforcements, and nobody makes me laugh harder than Davis.“I know where this is going,” he says once I’ve explained the situation. He lets out a long sigh. “Does this mean I need to get a plane ticket and rent a tux?”“Well yeah, because I want my date to look hot.”“That is some Flowers in the Attic stuff, Holls. Don’t be weird.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“In her twenties she developed a deep affection for romance, especially enjoying the works of Nora Roberts, Mary Balogh and, most recently, Rose Gordon, Courtney Milan, Lauren Royal, Danelle Harmon, and Diane Farr. You can thank those authors for leading a sci-fi tomboy into writing historical romances set in the Regency period.” ― Sue London, Athena's Ordeal
“I always had the impression it was just a job for you.”I hesitate. “I want to do it for Robert. It feels like a chance for me to give back a little.”“Give back?” Davis repeats. “You work there. You don’t owe them your virginity.”This makes me laugh. “Right. Unless they have a time turner and can go back to 2008 and Eric Mordito’s basement, I think that ship has sailed.”It takes him a few seconds to compute and then, “Gross, Holls. Mordito? Eric and I shared a pottery wheel my sophomore year.”“It’s possible you’re missing the point” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“You okay, Bobert?” He says pretty much what I expect: “I don’t know how I’m going to pair Ramón. He’ll drown Lisa.” Robert’s pianist, a man named Luther, is pretty wonderful. “Can Luther carry the solos?” “On piano?” I shrug. “Just spitballing here.” He appears to consider it, and then shakes his head. “The songs don’t lend themselves to keys. The strings have a richness, a vibrancy that the piano can’t mimic. It needs to stir something inside you. Luther is amazing, but we need a musician who demands your attention. Who makes you feel.” The idea seems to heat my blood, and I straighten. “Wait. Wait.” Robert looks up, confused. I hold up my hand. “An idea is forming in my brain.” His expression clears in understanding. “No, Buttercup.” “He’s exactly what you’re describing,” I insist. “You’ve never heard him, but trust me—he is.” “He plays guitar. Honey, I know you’re enamored, but—” “It’s not that, I swear. And he’s not just some busker hanging out on the street. He’s gifted, Robert. Listening to him play is like watching Luis onstage. I feel the notes. I know I’m not . . .” I search for words, flushing. Trying to tell Robert how to do his job is dangerous; he may be my uncle, but he’s been a brilliant musician for much longer. “I’m not a trained musician like you are,” I say carefully, “but I feel like classical guitar might work here. It’s gentle, and soft, yes, but has the passion and—the vibrancy you mention? It has that. If we’re changing the sound entirely by bringing in Ramón, why not change it this way, too? Have a guitar sing with Ramón, instead of a violin?” Robert stares at me, speechless. “Just come with me once.” I grow dizzy from the awareness that I might be convincing him. “Once. That’s all it will take. I know it.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“One of these days, you're going to fall in love with some guy, and you're not going to know what to do with yourself.” ― Jane Roberts
“She is the embodiment of a bad decision. The twin of danger and desire. The fine line between deadly and divine. And I can feel myself drowning.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Remind me to to make you smile like that again, when you aren't dying, and I have all the time in the world to memorise it.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Men would likely go extinct without women to coddle them.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“I used to refer to her as social lubricant, but Robert made me promise to never use that phrase again.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“Because beasts don’t get the beauty.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“You know it’s not the words that bother me, it’s—” “It’s the meaning behind them,” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“So I’m you’re wildflower, huh?” My cheeks heat. I might have gone a little overboard with my writing. I’m no Robert Frost, but I can get inspired too. “I love when you get all shy on me. It’s cute.” “I’m not shy.” ― Lauren Asher, Redeemed
“Calvin sits up, jerking his guitar to stand on one thigh. “Mr. Okai.” He swallows. “I didn’t realize you were standing there.”“My niece tells me your name is Calvin.”Calvin looks between the two of us, working this out. Robert, with his smooth dark skin and meticulously short hair. Me: pale and freckled with a chaotic, weedy bun on top of my head.Robert reaches out a hand, and Calvin immediately takes it, standing. “Yes. Calvin McLoughlin.”This makes my uncle laugh, and the boom of it eases the line of Calvin’s shoulders. “That’s a pretty Irish name for someone with such a good tan.”“My mam is Greek,” he explains, and then looks back and forth between me and Robert again, as if asking a question of his own.Robert tilts his head to me, releasing Calvin’s hand and saying in turn, “I married her uncle.”Calvin smiles, quietly saying, “Ah.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“I'd never thought about what my favorite color was before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing. Not until I looked into a pair of fiery blue eyes and realized that perhaps burning was a painless thing. Not until I looked into a pair of sky blue eyes and realized that perhaps falling was a peaceful thing. I'd never thought about what my favorite color was before because I hadn't seen one that was worthy of the title. Until now, that is. "Blue," I say, my voice low.” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“For every girl who has ever felt powerless” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“Innocent?” Lauren snapped. “Is she really? And I suppose Meatball is a little doggie serial killer. Or maybe he sneaks onto campus and sells crack to the red-shirts.” ― Robert Muchamore, Mad Dogs
“Robert is, of course, at the theater, but it’s true that Jeff isn’t alone. Behind him, Lulu holds up two bottles of tequila, and behind her is Gene, Lulu’s . . . bed-friend, holding a bag of limes and sporting the world’s most enormous mustache.I take the bag of limes from him. “Are you guessing my weight tonight?”Jeff laughs in a loud bark before heading into the kitchen, but Gene does a bewildered double take. “What?”“Do I get to shoot a water gun to knock down the ducks?”I see the moment he gets it because his giant mustache twitches under his suppressed grin. “I’ll take my limes home if you’re going to be sassy, miss.”“You look like an old-timey auction barker,” I say. “Or Yosemite Sam. I have this sudden urge to buy a few head of cattle.” Behind me, Calvin snickers.“You wish you could grow a ’stache like this.”I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I can’t even hear what you’re saying through that thing.”“I told him it’s awful.” Lulu tugs at it and Gene leans away.He smoothes it down proudly. “I’m so lazy, and this is much more low maintenance than shaving.”I don’t need to look that closely to see he’s clearly waxed and styled it with a comb. It’s really not an afterthought mustache; it’s the kind that a person chooses from a book on various mustache styles—the perfect accessory for his very carefully crafted I don’t care enough to even glance in the mirror look (which Lulu tells me takes him a long time in front of the mirror).” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“Wishful thinking,” ― Lauren Roberts, Powerless
“We found out yesterday that Robert has won the Drama Desk Award for Possessed, a huge Broadway honor. Jeff—who is over the moon about it—is planning a fiftieth birthday party/award celebration. Of course I have to be there . . . and of course Calvin will be, too.No way am I going solo. I need major reinforcements, and nobody makes me laugh harder than Davis.“I know where this is going,” he says once I’ve explained the situation. He lets out a long sigh. “Does this mean I need to get a plane ticket and rent a tux?”“Well yeah, because I want my date to look hot.”“That is some Flowers in the Attic stuff, Holls. Don’t be weird.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“In her twenties she developed a deep affection for romance, especially enjoying the works of Nora Roberts, Mary Balogh and, most recently, Rose Gordon, Courtney Milan, Lauren Royal, Danelle Harmon, and Diane Farr. You can thank those authors for leading a sci-fi tomboy into writing historical romances set in the Regency period.” ― Sue London, Athena's Ordeal
“I always had the impression it was just a job for you.”I hesitate. “I want to do it for Robert. It feels like a chance for me to give back a little.”“Give back?” Davis repeats. “You work there. You don’t owe them your virginity.”This makes me laugh. “Right. Unless they have a time turner and can go back to 2008 and Eric Mordito’s basement, I think that ship has sailed.”It takes him a few seconds to compute and then, “Gross, Holls. Mordito? Eric and I shared a pottery wheel my sophomore year.”“It’s possible you’re missing the point” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
“You okay, Bobert?” He says pretty much what I expect: “I don’t know how I’m going to pair Ramón. He’ll drown Lisa.” Robert’s pianist, a man named Luther, is pretty wonderful. “Can Luther carry the solos?” “On piano?” I shrug. “Just spitballing here.” He appears to consider it, and then shakes his head. “The songs don’t lend themselves to keys. The strings have a richness, a vibrancy that the piano can’t mimic. It needs to stir something inside you. Luther is amazing, but we need a musician who demands your attention. Who makes you feel.” The idea seems to heat my blood, and I straighten. “Wait. Wait.” Robert looks up, confused. I hold up my hand. “An idea is forming in my brain.” His expression clears in understanding. “No, Buttercup.” “He’s exactly what you’re describing,” I insist. “You’ve never heard him, but trust me—he is.” “He plays guitar. Honey, I know you’re enamored, but—” “It’s not that, I swear. And he’s not just some busker hanging out on the street. He’s gifted, Robert. Listening to him play is like watching Luis onstage. I feel the notes. I know I’m not . . .” I search for words, flushing. Trying to tell Robert how to do his job is dangerous; he may be my uncle, but he’s been a brilliant musician for much longer. “I’m not a trained musician like you are,” I say carefully, “but I feel like classical guitar might work here. It’s gentle, and soft, yes, but has the passion and—the vibrancy you mention? It has that. If we’re changing the sound entirely by bringing in Ramón, why not change it this way, too? Have a guitar sing with Ramón, instead of a violin?” Robert stares at me, speechless. “Just come with me once.” I grow dizzy from the awareness that I might be convincing him. “Once. That’s all it will take. I know it.” ― Christina Lauren, Roomies
