Quotes from Gemma Halliday

Wow, you know a lot of swear words," Sam commented at one point. "And here I thought I had a dirty mouth." "What can I say? Apparently candid porn starring my boyfriend brings out the best in me.

Holy effing crap, that sucks!" I turned to her. "Effing?" Sam shrugged. "What?" "We're censoring now?" "Kyle says I have a mouth like a trucker.

Connor Crane was currently the secret crush of half the female HHH population. And a couple of the males, too.

My theory: if the malls don't open until ten what's the point of being up earlier than that?

Which leads me to ask...what exactly are you going to do when we get there?" I thought about it. "Rip Josh's nuggets off and feed them to his hamster?

Mom perched on the edge of our sofa, her forehead etched with a line of concern I'd grown to know well. It was the same one she'd flashed at me when I pointed to the twisty slide, the same one she'd pulled out when I'd taken up Tae Kwon Do in third grade, and the same one that had frozen on her features all through driver's ed last spring. It was her SMother face.

Men. One minute they have their tongues down your throat and the next they're forbidding you from meeting your own father and criticizing your fashion choices.

While it wasn't a total given that all members of the Color Guard also belonged to the Chastity Club, twirling flags was considered one of the most wholesome activities on campus, meaning the ratio of Chastity girls in Color Guard was something like that of Mormons in Utah.

Do you know how much a freaking baby costs? A million dollars.

Do you ever tell the truth?" "Once. In fourth grade. It was overrated.

The woman had the IQ of a squash.

The kind of late where the 99% effective warnings on the side of condom boxes flashed before my eyes as I white knuckled my way down the 405, silently screaming, why me? Why, oh why me? I'm a new millennium girl. I took copious notes in 6th grade Sex Ed.

I was panting by the time we reached the back of the casino. I felt perspiration run down my back and my sandals pinch my feet. They were adorable, but they were not made for chasing bad guys. Nevertheless, I kept going,

Exactly fourteen minutes behind schedule I walked into the law offices of Dewy, Cheatum and Howe.

Oy, your karma really sucks, bubbee. You musta been Hitler in a former life or something.

Do you, Maddison Louise Springer, take this man as your hunka hunka burning love, to hold tight and be true until you both go to that big 'ol heartbreak hotel in the sky?" Elvis asked me.

but unless I wanted my mom's neighbor's second cousin's milkman attending my special day, it looked like an afternoon with The List was in order.

My philosophy: if the heels are high enough, everyone looks like they have runner's calves, right?

If my tiny studio apartment in Santa Monica were, heaven forbid, to go up in a blazing inferno, the one thing I would rush back inside to save would be my favorite pair of strappy silver slingbacks.

After making my way through a bowl full of lawn (Sure, Dana had said it was exotic sautéed greens, but it smelled like the grass in Griffith Park to me.), a cold purée of squash soup (Cold. Squash. Two words that should never be thrown together in the same recipe.), and a platter of seared kelp (I'm sorry, anything that washes up onto the beach is not considered food in my world.), I

into Studio City with my eyes closed, trying not to think about

Great. Some women cruise Beverly and go home with a pair of Jimmy Choos. I go home with a broken leg.

Tell you what," I said. "I'll learn to cook when you learn to scrub toilets.

I stopped walking and stared down at my pink painted toenails. That was it. Of course. No, not my choice of polish, although it was exceptional,