Anamarija Majanovic

“You can call me Pastor-and before Mr. Sox Fan gets his panties in a wad, I want everyone to know I'm legit. I went online, took a minister's course in under an hour, and I'm ordained, baby.”
― J.R. Ward , The King

“I started to put my phone back in my bag when Ozzy yelled out, his accent so thick, I was only half certain he said, "Where the foock are ya goin'?"

Uncle Bob jumped. I must've turned on my GPS.

"You have to tahn the foock around. You're in the middle of foockin' nowhere."

"What the hell is that?" Uncle Bob asked, almost swerving off the road.

"Sorry, it's Ozzy." I grabbed my phone and turned down the volume. "He's so demanding." I pushed a few buttons to turn off the app, then put the phone to my ear. "Sweet, buttermilk pancakes, Ozzy, you have to stop calling me. You're a married man!" I pretended to hang up, then rolled my eyes. "Rock stars.”
― Darynda Jones, Fifth Grave Past the Light

“You have quite a way with animals.”

“They’re my business,” she said, as if she needed to explain her delight.

“You’re good at it. That’s obvious.”

“I like helping animals. It makes me feel . . . useful, I guess.”

“Maybe you could show me what you do sometime.”

Tess cocked her head at him. “Do you have a pet?”

Dante should have said no, but he was still picturing her with those two ridiculous furballs and wishing that he could bring her some of that same joy. “I keep a dog. Like those.”

“You do? What’s its name?”

Dante cleared his throat, mentally casting about for what he might call a useless creature that depended on him for survival. “Harvard,” he drawled, his lips curving with private humor. “I call it Harvard.”

“Well, I’d love to meet him sometime, Dante.” A chilly breeze kicked up, and Tess shivered, rubbing her arms. “It’s getting kind of late. I should probably think about heading home.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dante nodded, kicking himself for making up a pet, for God’s sake, just because it might win him some favor with Tess.”
― Lara Adrian, Kiss of Crimson

“She lifted her head up and stared at him. Gaped at him. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two,” he drawled. “Give or take a few months.”

“Oh, my God.” She dropped her head back down on his chest and laughed. Then laughed again. “I thought Rachel was nuts for lusting after Professor Keaton, and he was only in his forties. I’m falling in love with a total relic.”

Gideon stilled. “Falling in love?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly, but without hesitation. She glanced up at him. One slender black brow arched wryly. “Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to scare a three-hundred and seventy-two-year-old vampire.”
― Lara Adrian, A Touch of Midnight