Ilona Andrews is the pen name of Ilona Gordon and Andrew Gordon, an American husband-and-wife duo who write urban fantasy and romantic fiction together.
"Did those nice church ladies come by again?" He nodded. "I asked them if a man died and then the woman remarried, and then the three of them met in heaven, would it be a sin for them to have a threesome, since they were all married in God's eye. And they decided they were late to be somewhere else. "
Her imagination painted Georgie twenty years later, sitting in leg irons before some Broken psychiatrist. "Well, you see, it all started with bubbles.
Who are you, what are you doing here, who is Hood, why does he want Julie, and where is Julie's mother?" "Is that all!" He wiped the red smudge off his lip with the back of his hand. "Yes. No. Why is the cauldron important, where did it go, how is Morrigan involved, where do you go when you disappear, and why do you keep stealing the maps? Okay, now that's everything.
Long strands of drool stretched from between his fangs and dripped on the pavement, sending a heady scent of jasmine to swirl through the air. Perfumed monster spit. What was the world coming to?
Had he expected me to hump her leg?
If a man takes you to a restaurant of his choosing, don’t compliment him. Rave about the quality of the food and he’ll be thrilled, because he took you there.
The sight of me puffing and straining apparently amused him to no end.
Wanna spot me?" "No thanks. How about I just scream verbal encouragements at you?
If my luck held, it wouldn't be a handsome Greek demigod looking for the love of his life or at least his love of a couple of hours.
I don't want it to be attributed to a loss of control on my part. When I throw you out of the window, I want there to be no doubt the act was deliberate.
Jack didn’t fully get Jesus. Audrey tried to explain it, and he could repeat it back to her, word for word, but he still didn’t comprehend most of it. The best he could gather was that Jesus lived long ago, told people to be nice, and they killed him for it. At the end, he asked who was Jesus’ necromancer and if he was in the Bible, then Kaldar couldn’t stop laughing and had to sit down.
I know it may come as a shock, but it's sort of considered polite to wait for the consent of the woman. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you don't wait, you may have to deal with pesky criminal charges like kidnapping and rape.
I glanced at Derek. The boy wonder didn't melt into a pile of goo, although his gaze was glued to Rowena's chest. Avoiding eye contact. Good strategy.
The intruder hesitated, turned, and anchored itself in the corner, where the ceiling met the wall. It sat there, fastened to the paneling by enormous yellow talons, still and silent like a gargoyle in full sunlight. I took a swig from the bottle and set it so I could still see the creatures reflection. Nude and hairless, it didn't carry a single ounce of fat on its lean frame. Its skin stretched so tight over the cords of muscle, it threatened to snap. Like a thin layer of wax melted over an anatomy model. Your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.
We need a barn or one of those storage areas for the Broken vehicles. " "A garage?" He gave her a short nod. "A private, relatively remote location, with thick walls to dampen the sound and preferably a sturdy door I could bolt from the inside, keeping your grandmother, your brothers, and all other painfully annoying spectators out. . . " Rose began to laugh. A make-out bunker. . . "I'm glad you find our dilemma hilarious.
Voshak's hair, a pale blond braid, which he bleached, was his trademark. It made him memorable. That's how the slavers operated. They adopted costumes and personas, trying to make themselves larger-than-life and hoping to inspire fear. They counted on that fear. One could fight a man, but nobody could fight a nightmare.
The good doctor put a spoon of tea into my honey. " "You're drinking tea a honey badger made," Jim said. "What did you expect?
Morfran thrust his axe straight up. He pretty much seemed to have one sign for everything: poke a hole in the sky.
Curran grinned and my heart made a little jump. I didn’t expect that. “That’s it? That’s your witty comeback?” “Yep. ” Eloquence ’R’ Us. When in trouble, keep it monosyllabic—safer that way.
Tall, with skin the color of rich coffee, and dressed all in black, Jim looked like he was carved from a block of solid muscle. Logic said that at some point he must've been a baby and then a child, but looking at him one was almost convinced that some deity touched the ground with its scepter and proclaimed, "There shall be a badass," and Jim sprung into existence, fully formed, complete with clothes, and ready for action.