Quotes from Rachel Hawthorne

You knew he was going to break up with her," I said without preamble. She groaned. "Yeah, sorta. The guy-code stuff? He'd asked Shaun for tips on how to break up with a girl so that they stayed friends." "Well, he sure blew that.

Maybe we need house rules." He pulled back. "Like what?" "No kissing inside the house." "Ever?" "Well, at least not when Mom and Dad are home. Dad jokes about putting potential boyfriends through an interview process, but he may be serious. It's hard to tell sometimes with him." "It felt like he was interviewing me that first night." "Not to be my boyfriend." He sighed. "Okay. I see your point.

A totally hot ski instructor," Leah suddenly announced excitedly. "That's what you need to take your mind completely off Brad Connor." "How can a ski instructor be hot ?" I asked. "His classroom is a snow-covered hill. He's gotta be cold." Allie rolled her eyes and Leah gave me a sharp look that said she was seriously contemplating throwing the snow she'd just scooped up at me.

She owns all these nice condos, but she lives in an apartment. Go figure. She calls herself a minimalist, preferring a simple life to one "cluttered with materialistic objects that serve no purpose other than to provide a place for dust to gather." Her words, not mine. But you gotta love someone who sees dusting and scrubbing as a poor use of one's time. "I've never seen a headstone inscribed 'May she rest in peace. She kept a clean house.

Maybe you should tell Sam how you feel about his roommate," Allie said. "Maybe he'd invite Brad to come home with him on the weekends." "Right. Like Sam is going to care. He thinks I'm just his stupid baby sister." "You think he's your stupid older brother, so it all works out," Leah said, backing up a little to inspect the snowman's abs.

He was staring at me intently. I'd just bared my soul. Why didn't he speak? What could he possibly be thinking? My nerves stretched taut. "Say something," I demanded. "There's nothing else to say," he said in that quiet way he had. Then he lowered his head and kissed me.

I can't tell him anything personal or important. I especially can't tell him anything like 'I think your roommate is God's gift to girls.' He'd make my life impossible.

What are you doing here?" "My dad called and--what the hell is that?" He pointed to the cleaver. I angled my chin. "I was in the middle of cutting my peanut butter and jelly sandwich." "With a meat cleaver?" "It's quick and makes a perfectly straight cut." He grinned. "Yeah, right. You've obviously watched too many movies. Who'd you think I was? Freddy Krueger?

I'm fine, thanks. You can go back home now." "You're kidding, right? Did you not look out there?" "It's snowing." "It's a blizzard. I'm not going back out." "You're not staying here." He raised an eyebrow. "This is an inn." "Not yet. We're not officially open for business.

You remember my roommate, Brad, right?" Since he made a nightly appearance in my dreams and was plastered all over my computer screen at home, yeah, I remembered him.

Hey, Aunt Sue. Were you calling to make sure we still had survivors over here?" She laughed. "This could be a reality show. A brother and sister snowed in together. How long can they survive?

It couldn't have worked out better, except of course, for poor Allie who was stuck at the far end of the table across from my brother. I was afraid if she spent too much time with him she might re-evaluate her friendship with me.

What do you do for fun?" he asked. And suddenly we weren't at a table with a large group of people anymore. It was just Brad and me. We'd moved from a wink to a nudge to a discussion, but his interest was going to disappear if I didn't think of something exciting to share. "I like to read mysteries." "Read." He repeated the word like I'd just told him that I enjoyed stepping in dog poop.

Bird, however, insists that my desire for a career in sports reporting has nothing to do with my love of sports. "It's your other love: guys. You want to know what really goes on in the locker room, and you want to get up close and personal with those towel-wrapped hotties." Her theory is a lot closer to the truth than I like to admit, because it makes me seem less than noble in my pursuit of a higher education.

Oh, I love astronomy. I'm a Pisces. What sign are you?" Which had made Mac laugh again, and he started to explain the difference between astronomy and astrology. Tiffany was apparently absolutely fascinated…and fascinating. His gaze--and Jason's--was riveted on her. I gave another little shrug, feeling a need to defend my sister, who might be in need of a trip down the yellow brick road to ask the wizard for some brains.

I was used to her getting what she wanted. Especially guys. I basically carry a mop to clean up their drool whenever she's around.

She mentions orphans at every opportunity. Part of the Miss Teen Ragland competition involves answering a question about how you'd change the world or make a difference or improve yourself. For Tiffany, it doesn't matter what question she's asked, she always manages to explain how she'd help orphans. Maybe her generous heart and not her generous, uh, chest, helped her win the past three competitions.

The team always sold programs for a buck at the games. Inside were the stats on each Rattler. There was also a roster of the visiting team, but they didn't include their stats. I guess the general consensus was: Who cares? They're not our guys. Ragland was pretty loyal to its team.

I'm here because we always meditate together," I lied. "When you're staying with me, sure. But you're not going to traipse over here every morning, are you?" Didn't anyone want me around?

My grandparents have spent thirty summers there. It's completely safe. And the Coast Guard station is like a block down the road." "I thought they just took care of stuff at sea," Chelsea said. "If we call, the Coasties will come. They're not going to tell us to jump in a boat first.

I looked behind me to make sure my jeans hadn't caught on fire yet from all the lying.

I'd been asking about recreational vehicle. RV. Camping vehicle. "What do you sleep in?" "Our boxer shorts," his friend said. Blue Eyes laughed. "Come on, Zach. That's not what she was asking.

Do you want me to leave this with you?" "Sure you don't mind?" "Nah." I handed him the carton and spoon. "Enjoy." My offer wasn't totally generous. I took perverse pleasure at the thought he'd think about me with each bite.

It looked like all the guys were going to end up matched with someone. Well, all except for Sam. I truly couldn't imagine anyone wanting to purposely hook up with my irritating brother.