Gena Showalter
Gena Showalter
Gena Showalteris an American author in the genres of contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and young adult...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth1 September 1975
CountryUnited States of America
lunch firsts breakfast
Why wouldn't I dance?' Uh, maybe because at first glance he looked like he ate puppies for breakfast and kittens for lunch?
hands guy noses
Ava said her hand accidentally slipped and made contact with her guy's nose. I said Repeatedly? And she said, 'Uh, yeah. I'm really clumsy.
mom flip grades
If your mom was here, she would flip her top over your grades." "Flip her lid," I muttered.
pain acting shame
But we all must be true to our own nature. Acting as anyone other than yourself merely brings you pain and makes you appear ashamed of who and what you are. Others will feed off that shame, and soon it will be all that you are.
sticks pasties
He planned to stick to her like pasties on a stripper.
running hate home
Fine," Strider said tightly. "You can. But you wont. Because you know that if you take the woman out of this home, I'll go gray from worry. And you like my hair the way it is." "Stridey-man. Are you hitting on my? Trying to get me to run my fingers through those mangy locks?" Gideon chuckled. "Sweetie pie." Striders lips even twitched into a grin. "You know I hate when you get mushy like that." Boy loved it. No question.
neighbor tramps
Neighbor… was that the word for "whoring tramp" nowadays?
flower smell noses
What's that smell?" I froze. What? Did I really smell so distasteful he had only to lean in my direction to catch a putrid whiff of me? I stayed the urge to break his freaking nose for pointing out my stinkiness. He sniffed again. "I can't place it." "How bad is it?" I asked, my cheeks heating. "It's good. Some kind of flower." My first thought: Hurray! I don't stink. My second: Ohmygod!
hate mean lied
This means nothing,” she said. “Less than nothing,” he lied. “I’ll hate myself later.” “I hate myself now.
cells skins noses
He was in my nose, my mouth, on my skin, inside my cells, deep in the marrow of my bones. Just then, he was everything to me.
sometimes reason bad-things
Sometimes there are good reasons to do bad things.
eye hands paris
William: You're just gonna have to take who I give you and deal Paris: Like anyone would pick you over me. William: You just wait and see. I'll have every single on of them eating out of my hand. Paris: Only if you had one of those delicious fried Twinkies. Strider rolled his eyes. Egotistical morons. Anyone with a set of eyes could see that Strider was the pretty one in their little three-some.
stupid eye should-have
I tried to tell you. You said you didn't care, remember?" A muscle ticked below his eye. "You should have told me anyway." "While you had barbells within your reach? Please. I'm Disease, not Stupid.
cat needs bags
William untucked the covers and stood, making a mental list of everything he'd need for the coming trip. A few blades, serrated and non serrated. A vial of acid. A bone saw. A spiked paddle. A cat-o'-nine-tails. And a bag of Gummy Bears.