I wouldn’t joke if you weren’t always patching me up,” Davis retorted. He looked at Chad again. “You must have noticed, right? It’s kind of cute, actually.” Though my heart fluttered, I tried to shoot him a warning glare. He ignored me. “I like to call her Doctor Fisher.

— J.M. Richards

Jill!” I called to her through our connecting bathroom as I pulled on some jeans. “You realize I’ve been more than twenty-four hours without a shower, right?” “Oh, who cares,” she grumbled. “You look fine. Just put on some deodorant and a bra. I mean, aren’t we just going to be getting sweaty lugging your stuff down from storage anyway?

— J.M. Richards

Nice slippers,” Davis grinned. They were green and furry. “Thanks.” I shrugged and looked him over, half expecting to see a new injury. “So what’s up?” He had one hand behind his back.

— J.M. Richards

No—I’ve got it,” Jill announced, interrupting my musing. “He’s a vampire.” I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. “Seriously, it makes sense. He’s always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won’t bite them.... Maybe that’s what he’s doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.

— J.M. Richards

No one wants to go through life alone, fighting battles single-handedly their whole life. Not even the hardiest of heroes. That’s just a miserable existence. Everyone needs someone in their corner, right?... Even if you could,” I wrinkled my brow, “would you really want to? By all accounts, it gets lonely being your own hero.

— J.M. Richards

Oh, it was 1775.” “What?” “1775. The Battle of Bunker Hill.” “Oh.” I laughed. “We learned about it the day we met,” he added. “Another red-letter day in history.

— J.M. Richards

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t because his grip was too tight, mind you. It was just the sudden proximity. And he smelled so good, the scent of fresh coffee and rain clinging to his skin as he leaned in.

— J.M. Richards

Telling me I’m pretty is nice and all, but if you really want to make my day, tell me I inspired you to read a book. Say you picked up a novel I’ve raved about and that you fell in love with it, too. Or tell me the time we spent reading aloud together was one of your favorite moments. Ask me to read to you, and beg for another chapter. This will fill me with indescribable joy and purpose. And if you really want to make me speechless with wonder, tell me it was MY words and MY story you enjoyed. Tell me you shed tears over the things my characters went through, and that you’re just a little bit in love with them, too. I might never recover. I will carry those words around in my heart for the rest of my life, like a talisman against all past and future criticisms. That’s how important stories are to me.

— J.M. Richards

Um, you don’t have to join me, but if you’re looking for a table, there are a couple good seats over there.” He nodded toward the far end.

— J.M. Richards

Well, if you can accept that I’m a great big geeky fangirl, then I guess I can accept that you’re a skeptic and a realist.

— J.M. Richards