Thursday, March 26, 2009

THE ROLE OF WOMEN.....


CAME ACROSS THIS SMALL PASSAGE IN A BOOK

MUST SAY

VIVA FEMINISTS
WE ROCK!!

Ellen’s life was not easy, nor was it happy, but she did not expect life to be easy, and, if it was not happy, that was woman’s lot. It was a man’s world, and she accepted it as such. The man owned the property, and the woman managed it. The man took the credit for the management, and the woman praised his cleverness. The man roared like a bull when a splinter was in his finger, and the woman muffled the moans of childbirth, lest she disturb him. Men were rough of speech and often drunk. Women ignored the lapses of speech and put the drunkards to bed without bitter words. Men were rude and outspoken, women were always kind, gracious and forgiving.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

TOP TEN MEG CABOT MEN ........

THIS BLOG IS INSPIRED BY THIS WRITER . THOUGH SHE IS CALLED CRAPPY , SHALLOW AND COMMERCIAL , I KNOW THAT ALL OF US HAVE READ HER AT SOME POINT OF TIME . I APPRECIATE HER REMARKABLE SENSE OF HUMOUR AND NERVE RACKING ROMANTIC IMAGINATION… HERES A TRIBUTE TO THE TEN BEST MEN SHE CREATED , AND I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO REVIEWS ON THIS ONE …

1.] JACOB CARSTAIRS (VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE…)


That politeness, as no unkind word could have, cut Victoria like a knife. Polite! Jacob Carstairs? To her? Oh, the situation was very bad indeed! Worse even than she’d allowed herself to imagine. A bullet was really the only thing that could have been more terrible. “Jacob!” Victoria cried, furiously stamping her foot. He gave her a curious look. “What is it now?” “Why are you acting like this?” she demanded. “Like what?” He looked genuinely blank. “So… so polite?” Victoria pointed her fan at him threateningly. “You’d better stop it. I told you I was sorry in my note for what I said last night.” One corner of his mouth went up. But the other one stayed down. “So you did,” he said. “Although you neglected to mention just which of the many unpleasant things you said to me last night you meant.”

WHEN VICTORIA ASKS HIM IF HE HAD KILLED LORD MALFREY -
“Oh, I thought about it,” Jacob admitted. “But it didn’t seem worth it. Despite the fact that you didn’t seem to put much value on it, I like my life, and was loath to risk giving it up for a blighter like Malfrey.”
WHEN SHE STARTS CRYIN....
Jacob reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out a handkerchief, which he handed to her as matter-of-factly as if he were handing her a cup of tea Victoria, still staring at her feet, felt a tear slide from the corner of her eye, slip down her nose, then drop to the floor. Perfect. She was crying again. Why? There wasn’t anything to cry about. Lord Malfrey was gone, and good riddance to him. So why on earth… “Here, here,” Jacob said, reaching out suddenly and lifting her chin, so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “What’s this? What are you crying for? Don’t tell me—Victoria, you can’t still be in love with that conniving ass, can you?” She sniffled woefully. “No,” she said. He took the handkerchief from her fingers and dabbed her cheeks with it. “Well, what is it, then, Miss Bee?” Miss Bee! He had called her Miss Bee! Perhaps all was not lost…. “It’s just…” Victoria said, with another sniff. “The only reason I agreed to marry him in the first place was because I… I… was so angry with you for… well, you know. Calling me M-Miss Bee instead of—” “Flattering you and murmuring tender words of love in your ear, the way Malfrey did?” Jacob finished for her. “But Victoria, I knew perfectly well you’d never fall for that sort of thing. Not for long. Look how long you and Malfrey lasted. And I wanted you for keeps.” Victoria sniffed some more, despite the fact that her heart was suddenly soaring. “But… ” she said. “But you were so nasty!” “So were you,” he reminded her. “Only because you would never do as I said. And you know, aside from this thing with Lord Malfrey, I am right, Jacob, most of the time, about most things. You must admit, the food at the Gardiners’ table has improved since I took over planning the menus. And Becky is engaged. And my uncle is more talkative. If more people would simply do as I tell them, their lives would be a thousand times nicer.” “Yes,” Jacob said solemnly. “I’m certain that’s true. And you’re welcome, Victoria, to manage as many people’s lives as you like. But not mine, thank you very much.” Victoria bit her lip. “Are you certain? Because, you know, I think with very little effort you could be immeasurably improved. Your collar points, for instance.” Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs that it hurt, but she really felt she had to say it. “Why do you wear them so low? Everyone else wears theirs a good two inches higher. If you would just—” “Yes,” Jacob said. “But when anyone else goes to kiss the woman he intends to marry, his collar points stab her in the face. Is that what you want?” Victoria, remembering suddenly that kissing Lord Malfrey had been a little uncomfortable because of that very thing, began to think that Jacob might be right. She was even more convinced when he followed up this illuminating statement with a physical demonstration of his point. No, most decidedly, Victoria was delighted to learn when Jacob kissed her, his collar points did not get in the way in the least. Then, even as Jacob was making a more thorough investigation into the veracity of his theory, Victoria tore her lips from his and said in a shocked voice, “Jacob! You said… you said when a man kisses a woman he intends to marry. Does that mean that… do you intend to marry me?” “I most certainly do,” Jacob said in a firm voice. “What do you have to say about that, Miss Bee?” But Miss Bee didn’t answer, because she was entirely too busy kissing him.
THIS IS THE PROBABLY MISS CABOT’S BEST BOOK !!! AND YEAH , JACOB IS EVERYTHING I WOULD WANT TO BE THERE IN MY DREAM GUY. EVEN WHEN I HAD’NT WRITTEN THIS BOOK I WAS WRITING ABOUT SUCH GUYS … THERES ANOTHER LINE , WHERE HE SEES – “I DON’T NEED YOU AT ALL, BUT I WANT YOU VERY MUCH…” HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!
2.] COOPER CARTRIGHT (SIZE 12 SERIES !!)

CRINKLY BLUE EYES, SWEET, CONSIDERATE, IN GREAT SHAPE, FAMILY BLACKSHEEP, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR, STRONG ENOUGH TO STAND UP FOR A GIRL NO ONE ELSE WOULD….THATS COOPER CARTTIGHT FOR YOU…HE ROCKS……..

WHEN HEATHER BREAKS UP WITH AD.....

“Heather,” Cooper says, taking my arm and dragging me toward him, so that suddenly his mouth is next to my ear, his breath warm against my cheek…causing an instant reaction down my spinal column, which seems to have turned to Jell-O. “Whatever you do…do not leave this room with him. Do you understand? Stay where I can see you.” All I have to do is turn my head, just a tiny bit, and those lips that are next to my ear will be on my mouth. I’m just saying. That’s all I’d have to do. I don’t, of course. But I could. “Okay,” I say weakly. And then he lets go of me. Miraculously, I don’t fall to the floor. I don’t know how. But somehow, my knees support me, and I remain upright. What is it about Cooper Cartwright that his merest touch is capable of turning my spine to Jell-O, and makes my knees weak? It’s just so…wrong. I mean, that he should be capable of doing that, whereas my own boyfriend—er, now ex-boyfriend—just…couldn’t.

WHEN HEATHER GOES DOWNSTAIRS WITH A POSSIBLE MURDERER..
“Heather,” Cooper demands, seeing me with my back still up against the cinder block. His eyes are wide with emotion. I can’t exactly pinpoint which one. But something tells me it might actually be…fear. At the very least, it’s anxiety. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine,” I say, a little crankily. I still can’t believe I was wrong about Reverend Mark. “I told you to stay where I could see you,” he snaps. “Yeah,” I say. “Well, Reverend Hot Pants over here had other ideas.” This is the wrong thing to say. Because the next thing I know, Cooper’s crossed the few feet that separates him from Mark Halstead in a single leap, seeming unaware of the look of panic that spreads across the reverend’s face as he does so. A second later, Cooper’s heaved himself, left shoulder first, into Halstead’s stomach. Then the two of them go tumbling down the stairwell. It takes the combined efforts of Tom, Steve, Gavin, myself, and Jamie (“Dressage,” she informs me, when I comment on her surprising amount of upper-body strength) to pull Cooper and the Reverend Mark apart. When we do, we discover we’re too late to have prevented any major damage. The paramedics later diagnose a broken nose and bruised ribs (Reverend Mark) and dislocated finger along with possible concussion (Cooper). It’s impossible to confirm Cooper’s concussion, however, because he refuses to go to the hospital. “Yeah, well, everything would have been all right if you hadn’t shown up,” I can’t help snapping. I’m sort of hovering beside Cooper, ready to catch him if he falls over. He is not amused by this, and has already asked me to get out of his way twice. I told him I was just looking out for him, same as he was doing for me back at the sports center, but he pointed out that to his certain knowledge, no homicidal preachers are stalking him. This is just further proof that no good deed ever goes unpunished. “And I’m a grown man,” Cooper points out. “Who can make his own way to his house around the corner from here.” Then, seeing my crestfallen expression, he reaches out to ruffle my hair—never a welcome gesture, by the way—and says, “Heather. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at home.”

WHEN THE REAL MURDERER HAS BEEN LOCKED UP AND HEATHER AND COOPER ARE STUCK WITH THE CAT FOR WHICH THE WOMAN HAD KILLED HER HUSBAND ...
So,” Cooper says, as the two of us sit in his kitchen, looking at Owen’s cat as he washes himself on the mat beneath the sink, pointedly ignoring Lucy, who is regarding him worriedly from beneath the kitchen table. “We have a cat now.” “We don’t have to keep him,” I say. “I can see if Tom wants him. He seems like the kind of cat Tom and Steve would like.” “Ornery?” Cooper asks. “Mean?” “Exactly,” I say. It’s nice of Cooper not to comment on the fact that I’ve already made him go to CVS to buy a cat box, litter, and canned food. I’d even spent ten minutes in Owen’s apartment before agreeing to leave hunting for Garfield’s pills, which Pam had packed away in her overnight bag. It turned out, of course, she’d intended to take the cat with her when she’d made her getaway. The china wasn’t the only thing she’d loved that Owen had gotten in the divorce settlement, it turned out. “Let’s see how it goes,” Cooper says. “Though I really don’t think I can live with a cat called Garfield.” “I know,” I say miserably. “It’s kind of like having a dog named Fido or Spot, right? But what could we call him instead?” “I’m not sure,” Cooper says. “Pol Pot? Idi Amin?” We’re sitting at the kitchen table with glasses of scotch on the rocks in front of us. Considering what we’ve each been through, it seemed the only logical way to end the evening. “I guess the real question is, how long is he staying,” Cooper goes on. “I don’t want to give him a name and get all attached to him—assuming one could get attached to something like him—just to have him ripped away right when I’m starting to like having him around.” “I’ll talk to Tom in the morning,” I say. I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long week. “That’s not exactly what I meant,” Cooper says. Something in his tone causes me to look up. In the glow from the overhead kitchen light, I notice that Cooper looks a lot better than I feel…and he’s been thrown down a flight of stairs, whereas I’ve just been shot at. It’s not fair. How come guys can go through so much more than us girls and come out looking better for it? He points at the door to the back garden, which is located right next to the stove. For the first time I notice that someone’s installed a large dog door in the middle of it. “Oh my God!” I cry, leaping to my feet. “Cooper! When did you do that?” Grinning, Cooper stands as well, and crosses the room to the door to show me how easily the flap swings back and forth. “After we got back from Rock Ridge. I ordered it a while ago. It only opens if you’re wearing this special collar—that’s the security feature, you know, to keep crackheads from using it to break in. It was really easy to install. The hardest part’s going to be getting Lucy to use it. But I figured, with your dad gone, this’ll make it easier on you when you’re at work during the day. She’ll still need her walks, but this way, if there’s an emergency, she can let herself out. If she can figure out how to do it, I mean.” I squat down to admire his handiwork. There are a few small gaps between where he sawed and where the dog door actually slid into place. But it’s not the aesthetic quality of the job that matters. It’s the fact that he’s done something—something permanent—to his home for my dog. “Cooper,” I say, embarrassed to find myself blinking back tears. I hope he doesn’t notice. “This is so…sweet of you.” “Well,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “I only got one security collar. I didn’t know we were going to have two pets going in and out—” “We’re not,” I assure him, glancing at Garfield, who has settled onto the kitchen mat and is glaring at Lucy—still cowering under the kitchen table—with balefully glowing yellow eyes. “I’ll find him a new home in the morning. Besides, he’s an indoor cat, I’m pretty sure.” “I wasn’t even sure,” Cooper goes on, not meeting my gaze, “how much longer you and Lucy would be sticking around, to tell you the truth.” I straighten up, and wipe my suddenly moisture-slick palms on my jeans. “Yeah,” I say. I’m having trouble meeting his gaze. So I keep mine on Garfield, instead. “About that.” Cooper straightens, too. “It’s just,” he says. I can’t tell where he’s looking, because I’m busy looking at Garfield. But I have an idea he’s looking at me, and feel a corresponding rise in temperature in my cheeks. “When I told you a few months ago that I didn’t want to be your rebound guy—” “We really,” I hurry to say—because I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this conversation is headed—“don’t have to talk about this. In fact, I have an idea. Let’s just go to bed. We’ve both had a really long, hard day. Let’s sleep on it. Let’s not say anything we might regret.” “I’m not going to regret saying this,” Cooper says. I do tear my gaze from Garfield at that. “You have a concussion,” I insist, checking his pupils for evenness. The EMT told me to do that. They look even enough. But how can I be sure? “You don’t know what you’re saying.” “Heather.” To my surprise, he seizes both my hands in his. His gaze, on mine, is steady. Both his pupils look precisely even. “I don’t have a concussion. I know exactly what I’m saying. Something I should have said a long time ago.” Oh God. Seriously. Why me? Has my day not been bad enough? I mean, really. Someone shot at me. A big orange cat named Garfield bit me. Why do I have to be rejected by the man I love as well? “Cooper,” I say. “Really. Can’t we just—” “No,” Cooper says firmly. “I know I said I didn’t want to be your rebound guy. And when I said it, I meant it. But I didn’t expect you to go out and find a rebound guy who was so—” “Look,” I say, wincing. “I know. Okay? But—” “—perfect,” Cooper concludes. I blink up at him, thinking I’ve heard him wrong. “Wait. What?” “I mean, I never expected him to ask you to move in with him,” Cooper bursts out. “Or that you’d say yes!” “I—I didn’t!” I cry. Cooper’s grip on my hands becomes very tight all of a sudden. “Wait. You didn’t?” His gaze on mine is intent. His pupils, I note, are still even in size. “Then when you were talking to Tad tonight—” My mouth has suddenly gone dry. Maybe, I’m starting to think, my day won’t end up being that bad after all. “I turned him down,” I tell him. I don’t bother explaining to him just what, precisely, Tad asked me to do that I turned down. He doesn’t need to know that. “What about your dad?” Cooper asks slowly. “The thing with Larry?” “I turned that down, too,” I say. My heart has started doing something crazy inside my chest. I’m not sure what. But I think it’s the cha-cha. “Cooper, I don’t want to move in with Tad—he’s not perfect, by the way. Far from it. In fact…we broke up tonight. And I don’t want a new recording career. I love my job. I love living here, with you. Everything since I moved in here has been so great. I like things exactly the way they are. In fact, when I was getting shot at earlier, and I thought I was going to die, I was thinking how much I don’t want anything to change—” “Yeah,” Cooper says. “Well, I wish I could say the same. Because I’m ready for a change.” Then he lets go of my hands and grabs my waist instead. And before I can say anything more, he pulls me toward him and brings his mouth down—quite possessively, I might add—over mine. A lot of thoughts go through my head right then. Mainly, I’m thinking, Whoa. I’m kissing Cooper. I can’t believe it, really. I mean, all these months that I’ve had a crush on him, and never dreamed he might return my feelings. And all it took to get him to admit it was dating my vegan killer Frisbee–playing math professor. Oh, and nearly getting myself killed multiple times. But who’s counting? Cooper seems pretty serious about this kissing thing, too. When he starts kissing a girl—well, me, anyway—he doesn’t mess around. He gets busy right away with the pressing his body up against mine very determinedly, and the molding me to him. Also with the tongue. Excellent tongue action. I’m impressed. I’m more than impressed. I’m melting, is what I’m doing. I feel like a DoveBar that’s been left out of the refrigerated case too long. I’m going all soft and gooey. In fact, by the time Cooper lets me up for air, my hard chocolate shell is completely gone, and I’m just a big limp mess. And I love it. “In case I haven’t made it obvious,” Cooper says, in a slightly breathless voice, looking down at me with pupils that are most definitely completely even in size, “I think you should move in.” “Cooper, I already live with you,” I point out. “I mean, really move in with me. Downstairs. My place, not yours.” “You’d have to start putting your stuff away,” I say, examining the very interesting way his five o’clock shadow disappears down the collar of his shirt. “No more fast-food wrappers in the office.” “Fine,” he says. “Well, then no more investigating murders until you have your criminal justice degree. I was thinking October’s a nice month to get married.” “Okay,” I say. Then I look up from my inspection of what’s going on down his shirt. “Wait. What?” I think my heart has stopped doing the cha-cha and started doing something a bit more complicated. Like something that is going to require defibrillation. “Did you say—” “Elope, I mean,” Cooper corrects himself. “I hate weddings. But I’ve always liked the Cape in October. Not as many tourists.” “Elope?” I’m in serious need of a paper bag. I can barely breathe. I think I might be hyperventilating. “Unless you don’t want to,” Cooper says quickly, apparently noting my stunned expression. “I mean, we can take it slow if you want. But considering the Tad factor, I figured I better—” “Eloping is fine,” I say quickly. I can’t believe I haven’t misheard him. He meant it. He actually meant it. Our joint detective agency—the one I always fantasized about—Wells-Cartwright Investigations…not to mention our three kids—Jack, Emily, and baby Charlotte!—they might actually come to exist someday…someday soon! Oh my God. I really am going to hyperventilate. Wait. No, I’m not. I’m not because this is just so…so…perfect. I can barely contain my smile. Then I realize I don’t have to. “Eloping is a great idea!” I gush. “Can we invite my dad?” “If you insist,” Cooper says grudgingly. “And Frank and Patty?” He rolls his eyes. “Why not? The more, the merrier.” “And Tom and Steve? They’d be really hurt if we didn’t invite them. So would Sarah. And Sebastian, if she’s still seeing him. And Magda. And Pete, too. His daughters would make cute flower girls.” “Heather. If we have that many people, it won’t be an elopement. It will be a wedding. And I hate weddings.” “It’ll be okay,” I say. “As long as your parents and my mother aren’t there. We have to have witnesses anyway.” “In that case,” Cooper says, “it’s a deal.” “And I think we should keep the cat,” I say. “What cat?” Then Cooper sighs. “Oh, that cat. Fine. Just so long as we don’t have to call him Garfield.” “I know,” I say, grinning. “Let’s call him Owen.” “After your boss?” “Yeah. Since in a way, his death is what finally brought us together.” “I can assure you,” Cooper says, “that that is categorically untrue.” “Whatever you say. Can we kiss some more now?” “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night,” he says. After a while, still kissing, we move out into the hallway, where we knock over a lot of the picture frames Cooper’s grandfather left behind after he died. So then we move out into the front hallway, near the stairs leading to the second floor, where we run into real danger of falling over, especially since we’re both shirtless and some of us have lost our pants. “No,” I say without elaborating why, when Cooper suggests that making love for the first time on the hallway runner wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “It really would.” We make it upstairs to his room. But barely.

HEATHER'S REACTION AFTER THE SEX (I SO WANTED THEM TO DO IT FROM THE FIRST BUK!!) IS OVER

Cloyingly sweet? Disgustingly trite? I know. I can’t help it though. He loves me. He’s always loved me. Well, okay, maybe not always. But he definitely started liking me back when Jordan and I were going out. It wasn’t entirely coincidental that Cooper showed up with his offer of a job and a place to stay exactly as I was being shown the curb by his brother. He claims he extended the invitation merely as a chivalrous gesture to a woman whom he thought was being shabbily treated by a family member. The friendly feelings he’d felt for me at the time grew, over the course of the year we’d lived together, into romantic love. But I know the truth: He had only the vaguest idea how hot he was for me until he saw me with another guy, and realized (however wrongly) that he was about to lose me. And not to some murdering psychopath this time, but to a nearsighted vegan math professor. Then, POW! It was all Heather, all the time.
……….. EVEN THOUGH U CAN HARDLY NOTICE NYONE ELSE THAN HEATHER HERE ( SIZE 12 IS NOT FAT!!!!) COOPER YOU ARE THE MAN !!!!

3.] MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ ( PRINCESS DIARIES)

SEE I KNOW THIS SERIES MADE MEG CABOT MEG CABOT , BUT SERIOUSLY IT IS SO NOT HER BEST. BUT MICHAEL ROKCS!!! CARING , INTELLIGENT, SO GROUNDED , AND SOOOOOOOO YOU KNW ROMANTIC…. THE KISSING, THE SNOWFLAKE NECKLACE, THE CARDIO ARM THINGY, THE CONTROLLING LILLY…HE IS AN IDEAL MAN IN MOST CASES , THOUGH IT TOTALLY SUCKS WHEN HE LEAVES FOR JAPAN…GUESS WAT HE IS BACK IN THE TENTH BOOK – FINALLY FELT LIKE READING PRINCESS DIARIES AGAIN , IRA , UDITA BABES WE GREW UP ON THIS BOOK ….. INFACT IT MAKES ME NOSTALGIC…..


AFTER MICHAEL HAS DONATED THE CARDIO ARM TO HIS ALMA MATER, AND MIA HAS COME TO THE FUNCTION HONOURING MICHAEL....AGAINST HER WILL
It’s just…he looks so incredibly good. I don’t know what he’s been doing to work out while he was overseas…fighting monks in the Himalayas like Christian Bale in the Batman movies is what Lana thinks. Trisha says plain old weight lifting, while Shameeka says probably a combination of lifting and cardio. Tina thinks he just “got hit with a stick of pure awesomeness.” But whatever it was, he’s almost as wide in the shoulders now as Lars, and I highly doubt it’s because he’s wearing an actual shoulder holster under his Hugo Boss suit coat, which Lana suggested. And he’s got a real haircut, like a grown-up man, and his hands look huge for some reason, and he didn’t seem at all nervous coming out onto that stage and shaking Dr. Arthur Ward’s hand. He was totally at ease, like he comes out and speaks in front of hundreds of people all the time!And that’s because he probably does.
WHEN THEY MEET ON THE FUNCTION AFTER TWO YEARS
I wish I could say when Michael’s dark eyes met mine, I was completely cool and collected about seeing him again after all this time, and that I laughed airily and said all the right things. I wish I could say after having pretty much single-handedly brought democracy to a country I happen to be princess of, and written a four-hundred-page romance novel, and gotten into every college to which I applied (even if it’s just because I’m a princess), that I handled meeting Michael for the first time again after throwing my snowflake necklace in his face almost two years ago with total grace and aplomb. But I totally didn’t. I could feel my whole face start to heat up when his gaze met mine. Also, my hands began to sweat right away. And I was pretty sure the floor was going to come swinging up and smack me in the face, I suddenly felt so light-headed and dizzy. “Mia,” Michael said, in his deep Michael-y voice, after excusing himself from the people he’d been talking to. Then he smiled, and my light-headedness increased by about ten million percent. I was positive I was going to pass out.“Um,” I said. I think I smiled back. I have no idea. “Hi.”

THERE COFFEE DATE WHERE MIA INTERVIEWS HIM FOR THE ATOM
Where IS Michael? Lars and I are here. And I realize we’re five minutes early. (I wanted to get rid of the paparazzi if I had to, but there’s none here, strangely. I also wanted to have the first choice of seat so I could make sure I got the best lighting. Lana assures me this is vitally important in boy/girl meetings, even of the Friends Only variety. Also, I wanted to snag a table close by for my bodyguard, yet far enough away that he wasn’t breathing down our necks, no offense, of course, Lars, if you’re reading this over my shoulder, which, don’t lie, I know you do when the battery on your Treo runs down.) So where is— Oh, God. There he is. He’s looking around for us.He looks SO good. Even better than yesterday, because today he’s wearing jeans and they’re fitting him SO PERFECTLY in all the right places. Wow. I’m turning into Lana. And he’s also wearing a totally nice black short-sleeved Polo shirt and I’m just going to come right out and say that everything we suspected lay under the sleeves of his suit jacket yesterday REALLY DOES. As in, muscles. Not hideous bulked up steroidy ones, either.But Lana was not far off in her Christian Bale Batman assessment.And I know I have a boyfriend. I am merely observing this in my capacity as an investigative journalist.!!!!!He’s seen me!!!!! He’s coming!!!!! Michael: You asked what my inspiration was for inventing the CardioArm. Part of it was you. You remember, I told you before I left for Japan, I wanted to do something to show the world I was worthy of dating a princess. I know it sounds dumb now, but…that was a big part of it. Back then. Michael: Can I ask you a question now?Mia: Um…sure.Michael: When am I going to get to read your senior project?Mia: See, I knew you were going to ask me that—Michael: So, if you knew, where is it?Mia: I have to tell you something.Michael: Uh-oh. I know that look.Mia: Yeah. My project’s not about the history of Genovian olive oil presses, circa 1254–1650.Michael: It’s not?Mia: No. It’s actually a four-hundred-page medieval historical romance novel.Michael: Sweet. Hand it over.Mia: Seriously. Michael—you’re just being nice. You don’t have to read it.Michael: Have to? If you don’t think I want to read it now, you’re high. Have you been smoking some of Clarisse’s Gitanes? Because I’m pretty sure I got high once on the secondhand smoke from those.Mia: She had to quit smoking. Look, if I e-mail you a copy, will you just promise to not start reading it until I’ve left? Michael: What, now? You mean this minute? To my phone? I completely and totally swear.Mia: Okay. Fine. Here it is.Michael: Outstanding. Wait. Who’s Daphne Delacroix?Mia: You said you wouldn’t read it!Michael: Oh my God, you should see your face. It’s the same color red as my Converse.Mia: Thanks for pointing that out. Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want you to have a copy anymore. Give me your phone, I’m deleting it.Michael: What? No way. I’m reading this thing tonight. Hey—cut it out! Lars, help, she’s attacking me!Lars: I’m only supposed to intervene if someone is attacking her, not if the princess is attacking someone else.Mia: Give it to me!Michael: No—Waiter: Is there a problem here?Michael: No.Mia: No.Lars: No. Please excuse them. Too much caffeine.Mia: Sorry, Michael. I’ll pay for dry cleaning….Michael: Don’t be stupid…are you still recording this?

AFTER MICHAEL HAS READ MIA'S BOOK , HE SENDS HER THIS SMS
Dear Mia, What can I say? I don’t know all that much about romance novels, but I think you must be the Stephen King of the genre. Your book is hot. Thanks for letting me read it. Anyone who doesn’t want to publish it is a fool.Anyway, since I know it’s your birthday, and I also know you never remember to back anything up, here’s a little something I made for you. It would be a shame if Ransom My Heart got lost before it ever saw the light of day because your hard drive crashed. See you tonight.
Love, Michael
Inside the envelope with the letter was a little Princess Leia action figure USB flash drive. For me to store my novel on, since he was right—I never back up my computer’s hard drive.The sight of it—it’s Princess Leia in her Hoth outfit, my favorite of her costumes (how had he remembered?)—brought tears to my eyes.He said he liked my book!He said I’m the Stephen King of my genre!He gave me a personally designed USB flash drive to store it so it wouldn’t get lost!Really, is there any higher compliment a boy can give a girl?

MICHAEL'S RESPONSE TO MIA'S THANK YOU SMS , WHEN HE SENDS GENOVIA A CARDIO ARM
Mia,
Would love to see you “in person.” How about tonight?
Michael
P.S. No need to thank me on behalf of your father or Genovia. I only sent it because I thought it might help out your dad in the elections, and that, in turn, would make you happy. So you see my motives were completely selfish.

AFTER THE SECOND DATE ,WHEN MIA HAS WON HER PUBLICHING CONTRACT ,

“Nothing to do until four? Good,” Michael said, taking my arm. “Then we can keep on celebrating.”Celebrating how?” I asked stupidly. I was trying to concentrate on not smelling him. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything else. Like where we were going. “Have you ever been in one of these?” he asked. That’s when I saw that he had led me over to one of those cheesy horse carriages that are all over Central Park.Well, okay, maybe they’re not cheesy. Maybe they’re romantic and Tina and I talk about secretly wanting to ride in them all the time. But that’s not the point. “Of course I’ve never been in one of these,” I cried, acting horrified. “They’re so touristy! And PETA is trying to get them banned. And they’re for people who are on dates.” “Perfect,” Michael said. He handed the carriage driver, who was wearing a ridiculous (by which I mean, fantastic) old-timey outfit with a top hat, some money. “We’ll go around the park. Lars, get up front. And don’t turn around.” “No!” I practically screamed. But I was laughing. I couldn’t help it. Because it was so ludicrous. And so something I’ve always wanted to do, but never told anyone (except Tina, of course), for fear of being ridiculed. “I am not getting in there! These things are cruel to horses!” The carriage driver looked offended. “I take excellent care of my horse,” she said. “Probably better than you take care of your pets, young lady.” I felt bad then—plus, Michael gave me a look, like—See, you hurt her feelings. Now you have to get in.I didn’t want to. I really didn’t! Not because it was stupid and touristy and I was afraid someone would see me (of course I didn’t care about that, because secretly it’s something I’ve always longed to do). But because—it was a romantic horse-and-buggy ride! With someone who wasn’t my boyfriend!Worse, with someone who was my ex-boyfriend! And whom I’d sworn I wasn’t going to get close to today.But Michael looked so sweet standing there with his hand out all expectantly, and his eyes so kind, like, Come on. It’s just a cheesy carriage ride. What could happen?And at the time, all I could think was that he was right. I mean, what harm could one buggy ride around the park do?Also, I looked all around, and I didn’t see any paparazzi.And the red velvet bench in the back of the carriage looked roomy enough. We could definitely both fit on it and not touch or anything. Like, I could easily sit there and not run the risk of smelling him.And really, in the end, how romantic could a cheesy touristy buggy ride be to a jaded New Yorker like myself? Despite J.P.’s portrayal of me in A Prince Among Men as a kook who is constantly in need of rescuing (which is completely inaccurate), I’m actually very tough. I’m going to be a published author!So, rolling my eyes and pretending to be all I’m so over this, I laughingly let Michael help me into the carriage and sat down on the lumpy bench. Meanwhile, Lars climbed up beside the lady in the top hat, and she started the horse, and we got going with a lurch…. And it turned out I was wrong. The bench was not that big. And I’m not that jaded of a New Yorker. Even now, I can’t really say how it happened. And it seemed to happen pretty much right away, too. One minute Michael and I were sitting calmly beside each other on that bench, Not Kissing, and the next…we were in each other’s arms. Kissing. Like two people who had never kissed before.Or, rather, like two people who used to kiss a lot, and really liked it, and then had been deprived of kissing each other for a very long time. And then, suddenly, were reintroduced to kissing, and remembered they liked it. Quite a bit.And so they started doing it again. A lot. Like a couple of kiss-starved maniacs, who had been in a kissing desert for approximately twenty-one months. We basically made out from, like, Seventy-second Street, all through the park, and up to Fifty-seventh. That’s, like, twenty blocks, give or take a few. YES. WE KISSED FOR TWENTY BLOCKS. IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. IN AN OLD-TIMEY HORSE CARRIAGE!Anyone could have seen us. AND TAKEN PICTURES!!!! I have no idea what came over me. One minute I was enjoying the clip-clop of the horse hooves and the beautiful scenery of the lush green leaves of the park. And the next…And yes, I will admit it did seem like Michael was sitting AWFULLY close to me on that benchy thing at first.And, okay, I did sort of notice his arm went around me when the carriage first lurched forward. But that was only natural. I thought it was sweet. It was the kind of thing a friend—a guy friend—might do for a girl friend.But then Michael didn’t take his arm away.And then I got another whiff of him.And it was all over. I knew it was all over, but I turned my head to tell him—in a polite way, of course, the way a princess would—not to bother, that I’m with J.P. now and that it’s hopeless, I won’t do anything to hurt or betray J.P. because he was there for me when I was at my most despairing, and Michael should just give it up, if that was what he intended. Which it probably wasn’t. But just in case.But somehow those words never came out of my mouth.Because when I turned my head to tell Michael all that, I saw that he was looking at me, and I couldn’t help looking back, and something in his eyes—I don’t know. It was like there was a question there. I don’t know what the question was.Okay. I guess I do.In any case, I’m pretty sure I answered it when he brought his lips down over mine.And, like I said, we kept on kissing, passionately, for twenty-something blocks instead. Or whatever. Math’s not my best subject.Actually, as long as I’m confessing everything, I should admit there was more than kissing. There was a little—discreet—below-the-neck action as well. I really hope Lars did what Michael asked and didn’t turn around.Anyway, when the carriage stopped, I finally came to my senses. I guess it was the fact there was no more clip-clopping sound. Or maybe it was just the final lurch that practically threw us both off the bench. That’s when I was like, “Oh my God!” and stared up at Michael, all horrified, realizing what I’d just done.Which was make out with a boy who wasn’t my boyfriend. For a really long time.I guess the most horrifying part was how much I’d liked it. Which was a lot. A whole lot. That major histocompatibility complex thing? It does NOT mess around.And I could tell Michael had felt the same way. “Mia,” he said, looking down at me with his dark eyes filled with something I was almost afraid to put a name to, and his chest going all up and down like he’d just been running. His hands were in my hair. He was cradling my head. “You have to know. You have to know I lo—” But I smashed my hand over his mouth just like I’d done to Tina. My hand that used to have the three-carat diamond ring on it. From another boy.I said, “DO NOT SAY IT.”Because I knew what he was going to say.
MICHAEL'S RESPONSE TO MIA , AFTER SHE RUNS AWAY , WHEN HE KISSED HER IN THE HORSE CHAISE

Mia, I’m not sorry. And I’ll wait. Love, Michael


AWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!! I LOVE MICHAEL!! P.S. IF NYONES INTERESTED , THIS IS PRETTY MUCH THE WAY THE OLDER GUY SPEAKS…………..LOL !!


4.] MITCHELL HERTZOG ( BOY MEETS GIRL…)

OKAY MITCH IS GREAT, HE SPENT 200 MILLION RUPEES TRAVELLING, HE IS PULBLIC DEFENDER, HE WEARS TIES HIS NEICES GIFT HIM , HE PLAYS VOLUNTEER BASKETBALL, HE IS STRONG ENOUGH TO HIT PEOPLE HE HAS SIX PACKS , HE IS INTELLIGENT AND A GREAT COOK. ALSO HE IS AN AWESOME BROTHER AND REGULARLY MEETS HIS ELDER SISTERS CHILDREN (TAUGHT LITTLE JOHN THE WORD “FUCK” AND ALSO “UP YOURS DICKHEAD , WHICH CONSEQUENTLY BECAME LIL JOHNS FIRST WORD AND FIRST FULL SENTENCE….. ”) ALSO , WITH HIS YOUNGER SISTER JANICE, HE CAME OUT AND SUPPORTED HER WITH HER LUV ISSUES (SHE IS A LESBIAN…) SO YEAH MITCH IS AWESOMEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!


5.] ZACH (JINX)

NOW I KNOW THIS IS ALL WITCHCRAFT AND STUFF , AND MOST PEOPLE HAVE NOT EVEN HEARD OF THIS BOOK , STILL ITS TOTALLY AWESOME!! I LOVE THIS GUY HE IS SWEET , CARING , STRONG, GUD LUKING AND ALL IN ALL NY SCHOOL GIRLS DREAM !!

WHEN JEAN COMES TO THE GARDINERS AND MEETS TORY AND HER GANG IN THE GARDEN The guy in the corner tipped a can of Coke in my direction as a sort of salute. “Hello, Cousin Jean from Iowa,” he said pleasantly. He, unlike the other two boys, wasn’t wearing a tie or dress slacks, but jeans and a T-shirt. He was also, I thought, a good year or two older than everyone else in the gazebo, who looked more or less my age. He was also hot. Way hot. In your average wide-shouldered, dark-haired, green-eyed, Greek-god kind of way. “Hey,” Zach dead-panned. “Good for you, Cousin Jean. The first step is admitting you’ve got a problem.” “Thanks,” I said, and tried to hide my mortification that the hottest guy in the room was talking to me by taking a sip of my iced tea… …which I promptly spat out. Unfortunately, all over Zach. “I’ve never had one before,” I said. “I’ve never even been to Long Island. Oh my God, Zach, I’m so sorry.” But Zach didn’t look mad. In fact, he had a bemused smile on his face. “‘I’ve never even been to Long Island,’” he echoed, as if he were trying to memorize the phrase. “No problem, Cousin Jean from Iowa. You want a Coke, or something?” The grin grew broader. “And I do mean the carbonated kind.” “Sure,” I said, completely dazzled by the smile. “That’d be great.” “Hello,” she said. “I see you two have met. Not going over the wall today, Zach?” Zach held up his hands, which were, I noticed for the first time, covered in faint pink scrapes—not unlike the ones I’d received from the wrought-iron fence I’d grabbed to keep myself from falling down earlier that day. “Not with those roses growing so out of control back there,” he said. “Those things are going to kill me one day.” “You should come in through the door like a normal person, anyway,” Petra said, with a grin. “You are too old now to be climbing over walls.” To me, she said, “Jean, if ever you want to see a museum, or go to the opera, or to the theatre, Zach is the one to ask. He knows everything there is to know about this city—” “Hey, come on now,” Zach said, looking slightly embarrassed. Was Robert right? Did Zach have a crush on Petra? But if he was in love with Petra, you couldn’t tell by looking at him as he interacted with her. He seemed to treat her with as much friendly casualness as he did… …well, me. “It’s true,” Petra said, beaming at Zach. “When I first come here, and I knew no one except Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and the children, Zachary took me everywhere. The Guggenheim, the Frick, the Met. Jazz clubs. Even to the zoo.” Zach looked even more embarrassed. “I like seals,” he said to me, as if to excuse the apparent oddness of his taking the au pair to the zoo. “Well,” Zach said, when we reached the sidewalk (I was pleased I managed successfully to maneuver the front steps without falling this time). “It was nice meeting you, Cousin Jean from Iowa. I live right next door, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be seeing each other again.” Well. Now at least I understood the thing about him coming over the wall—his backyard was separated from the Gardiners’ by that stone wall near the gazebo—and also how it was that he, like Tory, had had a chance to change out of his school uniform before any of the others.

WHEN THEY MEET IN THE PRESIDENTIAL FITNESS TEST , DURING CLASS, RUNNING ..LOL

And then a guy’s voice from behind me said, “Hey.” Thinking it was someone else who wanted me to move over—even though I was as far over on the trail as I could get without going off it—I looked back, annoyed… And stumbled over a root. “Whoa.” The runner slowed and bent over. “You all right, Cousin Jean from Iowa?” I hadn’t fallen—at least. I’d stumbled, but I hadn’t fallen flat on my face, or even hurt myself, for once. I straightened and said, hoping he couldn’t see how hard my heart was thumping (and not just from the exercise) while at the same time trying not to smile too broadly—“Hi, Zach.” He grinned down at me. Like me, he was dressed in a white T-shirt. But unlike me, his royal blue shorts didn’t look too short at all. They looked just right. More than all right. They looked great. “I didn’t know you were in this class,” I said. Then I knit my brow. “Why are you in this class? I thought you were a junior.” Zach shrugged. “Chapman requires three years of P.E. So here I am.” “Oh,” I said intelligently. Some runners came tearing around the bend. Zach grabbed me by the arm and pulled me off the path, into some scrubby brush. “Jeez,” he said, looking after the runners, clearly annoyed. “What do they think this is, the Olympics?” I said, “Well…” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “We better join them, I guess, or the president will be disappointed in our lack of fitness.” Zach looked at his watch. I couldn’t tell if it was a Rolex, like everyone else’s at Chapman. But it looked pretty impressive. “Tell you what,” he said. “I don’t actually believe the president cares about my level of fitness. Let’s get out of here.” I looked back at the path. “But if we don’t finish our run…” “Oh, we will,” Zach said, still grinning. “We’ll come huffing and puffing along right with the best of them. Only I know a shortcut….” I looked at the dirt trail, and then back at Zach. I have never in my life skipped a class. I mean, I’m a preacher’s daughter. But it kind of hit me then: Mom wasn’t exactly around. Fortunately the knot in my stomach—which had been growing and shrinking all day, depending on the circumstances—was apparently dormant just then…though whether because of Zach’s presence, or in spite of it, I had no idea. So I said, “Well, all right. If you promise we won’t get in trouble. I don’t want to get in trouble my first day.” He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” I smiled. “You were never a Boy Scout. I bet they don’t even have Boy Scouts in New York.” He said, “Well, they probably do, but you’re right. I never was one.” “My treat,” Zach said, when I mentioned this. Then he presented my Jumbo Jetstar with a gallant flourish. “It’s the least I can do, considering you saved my life. If these were ancient times, I think I’d owe you eternal servitude, or something.” I felt myself turning as red as the top third of the ice pop I held. “I didn’t save your life,” I said.

WHEN THEY AHD BECOME FRIENDS

And I, in turn, really appreciated that I didn’t have to worry about how I looked or acted around him. It didn’t matter that my Chapman School shorts were so ugly, or that I walked into the paths of Rollerbladers almost daily and had to be pulled to safety by him. Because he wasn’t interested in me that way. We were just friends. When I was with Zach, I could forget all the horrible things I was running away from, and just relax. My stomach didn’t even hurt when I was with him…well, unless I happened to find my mind straying, and wondering what might happen if Petra somehow disappeared from the picture, and Zach—miracle of miracles—ever did happen to think of me as more than a friend. Sure, he liked another girl. But I was gone anyway. He’d had me at I like seals. He wants to study film when he gets to NYU, and make documentaries about arctic wildlife, such as seals, and how we are destroying their habitats. He’d even taken me to see his seals—the ones at the Central Park Zoo. He knows all of their names, too, and can tell them apart.

WHEN THEY GO TO THE WITCHCRAFT SHOP "ENCHANTMENTS"

“Courtney,” I said, trying to ignore a rush of pleasure that he’d remembered my sister’s name. Both my sisters’ names! I’d only told him a million stories about them. I couldn’t believe he’d actually been listening. “Her birthday is coming up, and I thought she’d like this, plus I don’t think you can find a book like it in Iowa.” So he liked cats, too. Au pairs, 7th Heaven, seals, kids…and cats. Could this guy possibly get any cuter?

WHEN HE PROPOSES HER , AFTER SAVING HER FROM TORY'S COVEN

“Jean,” he said. “I don’t care about Petra.” “What do you mean, you don’t care about her?” I asked, startled. “You love her.” “No,” Zach said. “No, I don’t. I never did.” “Yes, you did.” I sat up a little straighter—then winced, as the motion jostled my sore knee. Still, this was too important to let pass. “You told me you loved her—” “No,” Zach said again. “You told me that I loved her. Because that fool Robert said so. All I ever said was that there was a time when I found Petra fetching. You were the one who kept going on about it. But the truth is, there’s someone else I’ve been finding a lot more fetching for some time now.” “There is?” I stared up at him in confusion…and dismay. “You never told me that.” “No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “I thought it was easier to just let you go on thinking I loved Petra. Because I could tell you were still freaked over whatever had happened to you, back in Iowa, with that guy. I didn’t think you were ready—” “Ready?” I shook my head. What was he talking about? “Ready for what?” “For me to tell you the truth,” Zach said. He was gazing at me so intently, his green eyes seemed bright as the moon had, outside. “That I had stopped liking Petra the minute I met you.” When I continued to look at him blankly, he said, “Out there in that same damned gazebo—the day you arrived. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” “Me?” I still didn’t think I understood him correctly. “Me?” “Of course you,” he said, sounding incredulous. “Jean—how could you not have seen it? Tory saw it—why do you think she was so angry? All this time, you’ve been telling her—me—everyone you knew—that you and I are just friends, when just friends was the last thing I ever wanted to be with you. And Tory knew it. She could tell what everyone else could, just by looking at me—everyone but you, apparently. That I was head over heels for you….” His voice trailed off as he looked down at me. “You still don’t believe me, do you?” How could I believe him? How could this be happening—to me, of all people? “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said, with a sigh. “I guess you’ve given me no other choice.” “No other choice but…what?” I squeaked, alarmed. “This,” he said. And the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. I suppose for our first kiss, it was fairly staggering. Well, okay, maybe someone like Tory, who is light-years ahead of me sophistication-wise, could be kissed in such a manner and not completely lose her head. I, on the other hand, could not. It wasn’t as if he snatched me up and molded my body to his, like Dylan had, the first time he kissed me. Zach’s was the gentlest kiss you could ever imagine. He was barely even touching me, except for where his fingers rested on my shoulders. But while it might have been gentle, it was long. What you might even call lingering. And I felt it all the way down to my toes. Oh, I felt it. When he lifted his head again to look at me, I barely noticed. That’s because little birds and stars were flying around in front of my eyes, I was so dazzled by the way his mouth had felt on mine. Thank God I was sitting down. If I’d been standing when he’d kissed me, I’m sure I would have collapsed. I felt as if I were melting. From the inside. “Now,” he asked me, in his deep, quiet voice, “do you believe me?” But it was hard to formulate a reply, because my lips were tingling so much. “Okay,” Zach said, when I didn’t respond right away. “Let me try that again.” And he leaned down to kiss me some more. This time when he raised his head, birds, stars, and even little rainbows seemed to float around in front of me. It was as if someone had spilled a box of Lucky Charms in zero gravity. “So?” Zach asked. “Do you believe me now that it’s you I love—you that I’ve always loved, ever since that day you spat Long Island iced tea all over me? Do you believe me that I’m tired of trying not to kiss you? Do you believe that I really, really don’t want to be just friends anymore?” “Uh-huh,” I said, nodding like an idiot. And then I put my arms around his neck and pulled him toward me. And kissed him some more.


SERIOUSLY HE IS VERYYYYYYYYY CUTE!!!


6.] JOHN TRENT ( GUY NEXT DOOR )

JOHN'S RESPONSE TO MAX ,WHERE MAX ASKS HIM TO IMPERSONATE HIM INFRONT OF MEL , WHERE HE IS SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HIS COMATISED AUNT'S PETS....

Your aunt was the victim of a brutal assault, and you don't even care enough to postpone your vacation? That is cold, Friedlander. Really cold. Essentially, what you want me to do is commit fraud--a crime punishable by five to ten years in a state penitentiary--by impersonating you. Is that it? I think I'd rather be married to the showgirl.

HE IS SO MUCH MORE DIFFERENT THAN USUAL MEG CABOT HEROES, HE IS SWEET , LOST , CONFUSED , [THOUGH HE IS A MILLIONAIRE AS USUAL] HE IS REALLY SWEET , AND NICE AND YES STRONG .... VERY MUCH THE TYPE OF GUY SHEFALI AND NIKITA WOULD LIKE (I AM SURE ...)... HE IS ADORABLE!!



7.] JESSE ( THE MEDIATOR SERIES )

LOL THIS ONES A GHOST...

WHEN SUANNAH FIRST SEES JESSE PERCHED ON HER BEDROOM WINDOW But of course, the only thing behind him was the window, and through it, that incredible view of Carmel Bay. So then he turned back to look at me, and must have seen that my gaze was fastened directly on his face, since he breathed, "Nombre de Dios," in a manner that would have had Gina, who has a thing for Latino guys, swooning. "It's no use calling on your higher power," I informed him, as I swung the pink-tasseled chair to my new dressing table around, and straddled it. "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for – " I took in his outfit, which looked a lot like something they'd have worn on The Wild, Wild West. "What is it, a hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?" He stared at me with eyes that were as black and liquid as ink. "What is … croaked?" he asked, in a voice that sounded rusty from disuse. I rolled my eyes. "Kicked the bucket," I translated. "Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust." When I saw from his perplexed expression that he still didn't understand, I said, with some exasperation, "Died." "Oh," he said. "Died." But instead of answering my question, he shook his head. "I don't understand," he said, in tones of wonder. "I don't understand how it is that you can see me. All these years, no one has ever – " "Yeah," I said, cutting him off. I hear this kind of thing a lot, you understand. "Well, listen, the times, you know, they are a'changin'. So what's your glitch?" He blinked at me with those big dark eyes. His eyelashes were longer than mine. It isn't often I run into a ghost who also happens to be a hottie, but this guy…boy, he must have been something back when he was alive because here he was dead and I was already trying to catch a peek at what was going on beneath the white shirt he was wearing very much open at the throat, exposing quite a bit of his chest, and some of his stomach, too. Do ghosts have six-packs? This was not something I had ever had occasion – or a desire – to explore before. Not that I was about to let myself get distracted by that kind of thing now. I'm a professional, after all. "Glitch?" he echoed. Even his voice was liquid, his English as flat and unaccented as I fancied my own was, slight Brooklyn blurring of my t's aside. He clearly had some Spaniard in him, as his Dios and his coloring indicated, but he was as American as I was – or as American as someone who was born before California became a state could be. "Yeah." I cleared my throat. He had turned a little and put a boot up onto the pale blue cushion that covered the window seat, and I had seen definitive proof that yes, ghosts could indeed have six-packs. His abdominal muscles were deeply ridged, and covered with a light dusting of silky black hair. I swallowed. Hard. "Glitch," I said. "Problem. Why are you still here?" He looked at me, his expression blank, but interested. I elaborated. "Why haven't you gone to the other side?" He shook his head. Have I mentioned that his hair was short and dark and sort of crisp-looking, like if you touched it, it would be really, really thick? "I don't know what you mean." I was getting sort of warm, but I had already taken off my leather jacket, so I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't very well take off anything else with him sitting there watching me. This realization might have contributed to my suddenly very foul mood. "And you?" Jesse was smiling at me now. He had a nice face. A good face. The kind of face that, back in my old high school, would have gotten him elected prom king in no time flat. The kind of face Gina would have cut out of a magazine and taped to her bedroom wall. Not that he was pretty. Not at all. Dangerous ! was how he looked. Mighty dangerous.

HE WATCHES OUR KICK BUTT MEDIATOR SUSSANAH’S BACK , HE CALLS HER QUERIDA.... GOD I AGREE - EVEN I HAVE IT FOR THE ACCENT. HE IS SWEET, CHIVALROUS , STRONG AND HOTT!!!!! JESSE GHOST OR NOT IS PROBABLY MEG CABOT’S HOTTEST CHARACTER EVER //// DO CHECK OUT THE SERIES ITS A LOTTA FUN....


8.] DAVID ( ALL AMERICAN GIRL )

HE IS THE PRESIDENT’S SON , HE LIKES TO DRAW, HE IS SENSITIVE , INTELLIGENT AND UNDERSTANDING. ALSO MORE IMPORTANTLY HE IS HOT !! WHO WANTS MORE?? THUMBS UP TO DAVID !!!

THIS IS WHEN SHE HAS DYED HER VIVID RED HAIR BLACK

it’s also my opinion that david’s a lot better looking than jack, with his green eyes—no, really. they’re green. not hazel, either, but pure green, like the grass on the great lawn in springtime—and kind of floppy, dark, curly hair. all i know is, i love david. he’s just so…there. when he walks into a room, he doesn’t just walk into it…he fills it, i guess on account of being so tall and big-boned and everything. when he kisses me, he has to stoop way down to reach my lips, and a lot of the time, he cups my face in his hands to hold it steady…. it’s super hot. but not as hot as the way he looks at me sometimes…like now, for instance. my parents, in addition to their “work ethic” thing, have also been on this autonomy kick (meaning that we have to start doing our own laundry now, instead of theresa doing it) so that we learn how to function as normal—i.e., clean—members of society. so the only clean thing i’d been able to find to wear to class, since i hadn’t remembered to do my laundry, was this black shirt nike had sent me, in the hopes i’d wear it the next time i went on tv—like at the town hall meeting on mtv next week. which is definitely another perk of being a national heroine…getting free clothes, and all. only, fond as i am of nike, i try not to engage in blatant product placement. so i had never put on this shirt before. which was why i didn’t know until i saw david’s face that it must be kind of sexy. the shirt, i mean. i don’t have big boobs—or little ones, really. just normal-sized—but i guess this shirt must be sort of tight and i guess it makes what boobage i do have stick out more than usual…plus it has a v-neck, so it definitely shows more cleavage than the shirts i usually wear. which might explain why, when david finally recognized me, he didn’t even notice my hair. the minute he spotted me, his gaze went straight to my chest. then, when he went to sit down on the drawing bench next to mine, all he said was, “hey, sharona.” “hey, daryl,” i said back to him. daryl and sharona are our white trash names. you know, what we think our names would be if we’d been born in a trailer park instead of cleveland park (me) or houston, texas (david). which is not to say that anyone who has the name daryl or sharona is necessarily white trash, or that anyone who lives in a trailer park is, either. just that if we were white trash, they’d be the names we thought we’d have…. okay, it’s a couple thing. you know how people who’ve been going out a long time have these couple things that they do? like my mom and dad call each other “schmoopie” sometimes, after an episode of a sitcom they saw once. the daryl and sharona thing is like that. only not repulsive. “i like your shirt,” was what daryl/david said next. “yeah,” i said. “that part was sort of obvious.” “you should wear shirts like that more often,” daryl/david said, not even looking the least bit ashamed of himself for so blatantly ogling (sat word meaning “to view or look at with side glances, as in fondness”) me. “i’ll try to keep that in mind,” i said. “look up a little. what about the hair?” he was still looking at my shirt. “it’s great.” “david. you haven’t even looked at it.” he tore his gaze from my chest and looked at my hair. his green eyes narrowed. “it’s black,” he said. i nodded. “very good. anything else? for instance…do you like it?” “it’s…” he stared at my head some more. “it’s very black.” “yes,” i said. “it’s called midnight ebony. which led me to believe it might be black. do you like it, is what i want to know.” david said, “well, you aren’t going to have to worry about anybody calling you red anytime soon.” “i realize that,” i said. “but do you think it looks good?” “it looks…” david looked back down at my chest. “great.”


SEE ......HE IS SOOOOOOOOO SWEET!!


9.] LUKE STRIKER !!!! ( TEEN IDOL)

I KNOW HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A MOVIE STAR AND STUFF, BUT THE FACT WITH FIGURING OUT OUR DEAR JENNY GREENLEY - SENSITIVE ENOUGH , INTELLIGENT GOD HE WAS AWESOME.... THOUGH SCOTT BENNET THE MAIN LEAD IS NO LESS THE STAR STILL I WAS ALWAYS MORE ATTACHED TO LUKE.... LIKE JENNY SAYS – “I KNEW EVERYONE WAS GOING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH LUKE”


10 ] TOMMY SULLIVAN ( PANTS ON FIRE ),

REBEL , HOT , CONFIDENT , TAKING THE WORLD ALONE ON HIS OWN – GOD I HAVE BEEN HOT FOR THIS GUY FOR AN ETERNITY NOW...VERY UNDERREAD BOOK , MUST READ . .

WHEN THEY MEET OUTSIDE THE QUAHOG CAFE.....

I mean, that a mere guy could make me feel that way. And I have to say, I really, really hated Tommy Sullivan for that. “What do you want?” I turned around to demand in my rudest voice. Only the words died away a little when I saw how hot he looked, leaning against the front of his Jeep in a circle of light thrown down from the parking lot’s single streetlight. His was the only car left in the lot—everyone else had gone home already. I couldn’t help but notice, in the light from the street lamp, that Tommy’s arms were folded across his chest in such a way that his biceps were really kind of bulging out beneath the short sleeves of his slim tee. He had one foot propped back on his front bumper, revealing a hole in the knee of the jeans he’d changed into. I couldn’t stop staring at the tanned skin that hole revealed, even though it was just a knee. It was like I was hypnotized or something. Oh, yes. I hate Tommy Sullivan. So much. “Hey,” he said, unfolding his arms—but not unpropping his foot—when he saw me turn around. “Thought I’d find you here. What’s up? My grandmother said you called.” I tried to stop myself. I really did. But the next thing I knew, I was leaving the protection—from kissing a boy who is not my boyfriend—afforded me by the bike rack and emergency generator and walking across the parking lot toward him. It was like I was one of the zillions of moths that were batting around the light from the street lamp above us, drawn not to the glow above our heads, but to whatever it was Tommy Sullivan was giving off. Which I was starting to suspect was serious pheromones or something. Because how else could I explain why I couldn’t seem to stay away from him, despite the fact that he was very obviously back in town in order to destroy me? “Yeah,” I said, when I’d gotten close enough to him to see that his eyes were amber in the light from the street lamp. More yellow than amber, actually. I don’t think it was a trick of my imagination. Tommy Sullivan’s eyes looked as if they were gold. “I called you. I…I wanted to tell you something.” “That’s what I figured.” Tommy was looking down at me curiously. “Hey, are you all right? You look kind of…funny.” “I’m fine,” I said, licking my lips. And I wasn’t even trying to be flirty! My mouth had just gone really dry. I don’t know why. I just kept looking into Tommy’s eyes and thinking, They really do look like gold. How is that even possible? How can someone have golden eyes? “Um,” Tommy said. “Well, you didn’t leave your cell number. So I couldn’t call you back. I tried your house. But your dad said you were here.” “Oh,” I said. Tommy, unlike Seth and Eric, didn’t wear any jewelry. His neck was unadorned by chains, leather cords, or pooka shells. All he had on was a watch, one of those big strappy waterproof kinds. I decided that the no-jewelry look suited him. “So.” He’d raised his eyebrows. He still looked curious. “What did you want to tell me?” What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop staring at him? I was acting like one of those stupid lovestruck girls who’d been hanging around my brother at the gym. Only without the giggling. Which was ridiculous, because I am not in love with Tommy Sullivan. In fact, I hate Tommy Sullivan. Which reminded me. “What were you doing today in Mr. Gatch’s office, down at the Gazette?” I finally got enough control of myself to ask. “That’s why you called?” Tommy asked, looking incredulous. “No,” I said. Suddenly, I was blushing. So he wouldn’t notice, I pulled out the clip holding up my ponytail, then ducked my head so my curly hair fell over my face. Then I hurried over to lean against the front of his Jeep beside him, so he could only see my profile. “I just want to know what you were doing there. Is that why you’re back in town, Tommy? Because you’re writing some kind of story for Mr. Gatch?” “What did Mr. Gatch say,” Tommy asked, “when you asked him?” I blushed even harder. How had he known? Except that I knew how. Tommy knew me. Too well. I kept my gaze on the asphalt, bits of which were sparkling a little in the circle of white light thrown by the street lamp. “That it was none of my business.” “Uh-huh.” Tommy folded his arms again. “And what does that tell you?” “That it’s none of my business,” I said grudgingly. “Well.” Tommy shrugged. “There you go, then.” I had forgotten this about him. How frustratingly stubborn he could be. Which is surprising (that I’d forgotten), since it was that stubbornness which had gotten us into this mess in the first place. “Tommy,” I said. “Think about what you’re doing—whatever it is. Don’t do anything to make people hate you.” “How am I supposed to do that?” Tommy asked, laughter in his voice. “Everybody in Eastport already hates me. What could I possibly do to make them hate me more?” “I don’t know,” I said, turning toward him, not caring anymore if he saw my burning cheeks. “But, Tommy, you should know…Eric told everybody about you being back in town, and Seth…Seth wasn’t happy.” “I’d imagine he wouldn’t be,” Tommy said with a smile that could only be called cynical. “Tommy, I’m serious,” I said, reaching out to lay a hand on one of Tommy’s folded forearms. Only to make sure he realized how serious I was. Not because I wanted to touch him. Not at all. “Sidney said she wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning something. Seth and Dave and the rest of the team. Something like…like a blanket party.” But Tommy, instead of being horrified, just threw back his head and laughed. I was the one who was horrified. By his reaction. “Tommy, I don’t think Sidney was kidding around!” I cried. “You need to look out. I think it will be okay, if, like I said, you keep a low profile. But whatever you’re doing at the Gazette…seriously, Tommy. Just stop. Especially if it’s going to get them more riled up than they already are.” “You’re too much,” Tommy said when he’d stopped laughing long enough to speak again. He shook his head, grinning down at me. “You really are.” “Tommy.” Maybe he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. I laid my other hand on his arm, too, and stood to face him, so that I could look up into his eyes very sincerely—trying not to notice that they appeared to be the color of the sun—so he’d see I wasn’t kidding. “This is the weekend of the quahog festival…the last weekend before school starts up again. You remember what happens this weekend. Right?” He looked down at my hands a little quizzically. I was also standing pretty close to him. Close enough that my boobs were kind of level with my hands. So maybe it wasn’t actually my hands he was looking at. “Uh,” he said. “This is the weekend when the Quahogs let off steam before Coach Hayes’s practices start for real,” I reminded him. “Last year all that happened was that a bunch of people lost their mailboxes, because the team went after them with baseball bats out of a car window. But this year, Tommy…it could be you they go after with a baseball bat.” Tommy’s gaze flicked from my chest to my eyes. I wondered if he’d noticed that I’d taken another step closer to him, so that our faces were now only a very short distance apart. One of my knees was, in fact, rubbing up against one of his. “Your concern for my welfare,” he said, “is touching.” “I mean it, Tommy,” I said. “I feel bad about…well, how things went down between us four years ago.” “You feel bad,” he repeated. And this time, he was the one who licked his lips. “Uh-huh,” I said. He had a lot of fine, blond hair on his arm. I couldn’t help stroking it a little with my fingers. Even though I hated myself for doing it. Totally. “About how I treated you.” “Are you sure what you feel bad about is how you treated me?” Tommy wanted to know. His voice still sounded sarcastic. But also a little curious. “Or is what you feel bad about the fact that I caught you cheating on your boyfriend, and you’re afraid I’m going to tell him?” “You can tell him anything you want,” I said with a shrug. “Eric and I broke up this afternoon.” A glance upward—through my eyelashes, of course—showed me that Tommy had raised his eyebrows in surprise. I looked down again quickly, keeping my gaze on the silky arm hairs I was stroking. “You did?” Tommy’s voice wasn’t quite as steady as it had been. Still, he hadn’t lost one bit of the sarcasm. “Gosh, I hope it wasn’t because of me. I’d hate to know I’d come between you and the guy you’re cheating on your boyfriend with.” Hurt (how could he joke at a time like this, when I was in his arms…well, practically?), I dropped my hands from his arm and said stiffly, “Don’t flatter yourself, Tommy. It had nothing to do with you. And you know what? I’m sorry I called you today. Or your grandmother. Whatever. Let’s just pretend I didn’t. I hope Seth and those guys do throw a blanket over your head and hit you with a baseball bat. Maybe then you’ll finally realize you don’t actually know everything.” And I whirled around to go. And, just as I was hoping he would, he reached out and caught my wrist. Only instead of just keeping me from stalking off to my bike, Tommy kind of held on. Next thing I knew, he’d spun me around so I was the one with my back up against the front of his Jeep… …and he was the one leaning over me with his hands resting against the hood, an arm on either side of me, and his face just inches above mine. “I don’t think I know everything,” he said to me, in a low voice, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that was making my heart race. In a pleasant kind of way. “You don’t?” I had no idea what I was saying. All I could think was, He’s going to kiss me. I know it. He’s going to kiss me, while a detached part of my brain wondered why, if I really hated him as much as I kept telling myself I did, I should be so excited about that. “No,” Tommy said. He wasn’t smiling at all now. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his golden eyes. “Because if I knew everything, I’d have figured out what kind of game you think you’re playing right now.” “I’m not playing,” I protested. But the word playing barely got past my lips before Tommy’s mouth came down over mine. And then Tommy Sullivan was kissing me, like I had never been kissed before in my life. Which was ridiculous, because of course I had been kissed hundreds of times before. But somehow never quite like this, by someone who seemed to feel that he had all the time in the world to get his point across…the point being that Tommy Sullivan was kissing me, more thoroughly than I had ever been kissed before in my life, so that I felt his kiss from the top of my head all the way down to the bottoms of my feet, and everywhere in between. He wasn’t even touching me—except for his lips, and where his body was leaning up against mine, so that I could feel the Jeep’s front grille at my back. But it was like he didn’t have to touch me. Every single one of my nerve endings seemed to be on fire. It was like kissing an electrical outlet, or something. I felt like I was going to explode. And I guess Tommy must have felt something along the same lines, because after a minute of carefully not touching me, suddenly his arms went around me, and instead of feeling the front grille of the Jeep behind my back, he’d lifted me so I was sitting on the hood, and he was kind of between my legs. I’d already flung my arms around his neck. It was all I could do not to wrap my legs around his waist as well. And all I could think was, Now this is a kiss. Seth had never kissed me like this before. Eric either. It was almost like Tommy had practiced this kiss, or something, that’s how good it was. And as he went on kissing me, and I went on kissing him back, it occurred to me that it was really true…Tommy Sullivan really was a freak. But, like, in the best possible way a guy could be. And then, just as suddenly as he’d started kissing me, Tommy stopped, tearing his mouth away from mine—but not dropping his arms from around me—and looked at me. Because I was perched on the hood of his Jeep, we were at exactly the same eye level, for once. I looked right back at him, my lips feeling delightfully bruised and tingly, my breath coming out a little raggedly. But not as ragged as his. “Don’t even try to tell me that you learned how to do that in military school,” I said accusingly, when I could speak again. Tommy laughed. But his voice was as unsteady as mine when he replied, “I told you. It was co-ed.” “Oh, yeah.” But this information was hardly comforting. Seriously, Tommy had to have kissed a lot of girls to have gotten his makeout technique down to such perfection. My head was spinning around so much, I couldn’t stop myself from stammering, “So do you—do you have a girlfriend?” He raised his eyebrows. “Used to. Why? Would you be more interested in me if I did have a girlfriend, so you could have the fun of trying to steal me away?” “I’m not like that,” I said hotly, wanting to pull away from him. But then, a stronger part of me wanted to stay right where I was. Forever. “I don’t steal other people’s boyfriends.” “Right,” Tommy said with a laugh. “You just cheat on your own.” “I can’t help it,” I protested. Although I knew if Seth had ever once kissed me the way Tommy just had, I’d never have looked twice at Eric. Or Tommy. And then I admitted a terrible thing…something I’d never admitted to anyone before. Anyone but myself: “I just…I guess I just don’t like him enough not to.” “I don’t think it has anything to do with how much you like or dislike Seth,” Tommy said, absently letting one of the curls of my hair wrap around a finger as he played with it. “I think it has to do with the fact that you wanted him for so long, and then you got him, and you realized he wasn’t so great after all. But you couldn’t break up with him, because you’re Katie Ellison, smartest girl in the class. Breaking up with Seth means you’d be admitting you made a mistake. And brainiac Katie Ellison doesn’t make mistakes.” “Th-that—” I stammered. “That’s ridiculous!” “Is it? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that you’ve never been able to stand disappointing people, and if you broke up with Seth, that would disappoint a lot of people…especially Seth. So you’re doing everything you can to get him to break up with you. Only it’s not working.” “Ha!” I cried. “That’s funny! No, really, that’s rich. You think I want Seth to find out about me and Eric?” “Exactly,” Tommy said. “Only he’s not bright enough. Really, Katie, the whole thing boils down to how much you dislike yourself.” I jerked my head away, so the curl fell away from his finger and bobbed back against my face. “What do you mean?” I demanded. “I like myself. I totally like myself. Too much, maybe,” I added after a second, thinking about Quahog Princess, and how sure Sidney and I were that we were going to win. “I don’t think so,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen your photos, remember?” I glared at him in the light from the street lamp. “What about my photos?” “You’re a great photographer,” Tommy admitted. “But like Mr. Bird said, you’re better at taking pictures of other people than you are of anything else. I think it’s because you understand people…and you don’t judge them. It’s yourself you don’t seem to understand…or be totally honest with.” “What are you talking about?” I shook my head. “I may lie a lot…that’s true. But to other people. Not myself.” “Oh, yeah?” He looked amused about something. “Pelicans, Katie?” “So what?” I shrugged. “So what if I like to take pictures of pelicans? What does that prove?” “That you’re just trying to give people what you think they want. It’s not what you want.” Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t actually talking about pelicans? The thing was, I didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. Worse, I didn’t even really care. Because all I wanted to do was kiss him some more. “People like pelicans,” I stammered. Because it was the only thing I could think of to say. “Yeah,” Tommy said. “People do. Just like people like quahogs. But you don’t. People love Seth Turner. But you don’t. I think the problem with you, Katie, is that you’ve been so busy for these past few years, giving people what you think they want, you haven’t stopped to think about what you want.” I looked at his lips. I had no idea what he was talking about. I totally knew what I wanted. At least, right then. “Or maybe you have,” Tommy said with a smile, apparently noting the direction of my gaze. “And it scares you.” “I’m not scared,” I assured him. And for once, I wasn’t lying. And then, much to my satisfaction, he was kissing me again. I’m not at all sure how long we’d have stayed in that parking lot, kissing—or maybe even more than kissing, considering the way things were rapidly seeming to develop—if I hadn’t noticed, on the backs of my closed eyelids, a light that was much brighter than the streetlight we were.

THEN HIS PROPOSING WENT ON LIKE THIS .....

You sound shocked to hear it,” Tommy said wryly. “I guess I hid it pretty well.” “Super well,” I said. Ka-thump. And, in spite of all my best intentions, I found myself taking a step toward him. “I had no idea.” “Well, you were pretty hot, even then,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if it was the braces or the frizzy hair that did it.” KA-THUMP. “Was that what the peanut butter cookies were all about?” I asked, taking another step toward him. “Absolutely,” Tommy said. “My plan was to lure you into my romantic clutches with Scholastic Reading Counts quizzes and peanut butter cookies. Not very sophisticated, but the best I could come up with at the time. It was eighth grade, after all.” One last step, and I was standing directly in front of him, so close that I had to tilt my chin up in order to look into his eyes. With his sunglasses on, I couldn’t see what color they were just then. But I was betting bright, ocean green. “And?” I asked. He looked down at me, his gaze unreadable, thanks to the Ray-Bans. “And what?” “And are you still in love with me?” I asked. He grinned. “What do you care? I thought you were taking a vacation from guys.” “I am,” I assured him. Good-bye, convent. Good-bye, all-women’s college. “From every guy but you.” Which is when he took his sunglasses off. And I saw that his eyes were bright green, just as I’d suspected they’d be. “In that case,” he said, “the answer is yes.” “Of course, I do think you might want to ask yourself why it is that you can’t seem to be satisfied with just one guy. Or even with two, if all that hair twirling and looking up at me from underneath your eyelashes means what I think it means.” I gaped up at him in total shock. No. No way. Had he just…had he just implied—more than implied, flat-out stated—that I’ve been flirting with him? Flushing beet red—with anger, I told myself. Not embarrassment. Because I hadn’t been flirting with him. I hadn’t…much—I took a step backward, away from him, preparing to head back toward the pier, away from Tommy Sullivan and those bright ever-changing eyes of his. That’s how NOT interested in flirting with Tommy Sullivan I was. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to even hint that I might have been doing any such thing. Well, I’d show him. I’d leave my dad’s boat without another word. And as for not giving him the cold shoulder next week in the halls of Eastport High, well, no way was I going to give him the satisfaction of being friendly. Since he was obviously the kind of person who mistook friendliness for romantic overtures— Except that the first step I took as I backed away from him landed on my bicycle helmet, and I completely lost my balance and would have landed flat on my butt at the bottom of Dad’s boat… …if Tommy hadn’t thrown out his arms and caught me just before I hit the deck. It was only natural that I flung both of my arms around his neck. Not that I thought he was going to drop me—he seemed to have the situation well in hand—but, you know. You can never be too careful. How long we stood like that—our arms around each other in the moonlight, with the sound of the lapping water in our ears, and our gazes locked on the other’s—I’ll probably never know. Long enough for me to start feeling positively light-headed—although that could have been the Dramamine. Which is the only explanation I can give for why my own eyes started drifting closed, and my mouth started getting closer and closer to Tommy’s, until suddenly he broke the silence between us by whispering, his breath warm on my face, “Katie.” “Hmmmm?” I asked, fluttering my eyelids. “Do you think I’m going to kiss you, or something?” “Oh, Tommy,” I sighed, and closed my eyes in anticipation of an intense, soul-searing lip-lock. Except that the next thing I knew, Tommy Sullivan had let go of me. Seriously. Oh, he didn’t drop me, or anything. It’s just that one minute I was lying in his arms, and the next, I was completely vertical and on my own two feet again. As I blinked up at him in confusion, Tommy said, with a wry smile, “I think you’ve had enough kissing for one day, Katie. Come on. Let me drive you home.” Obviously, I was totally insulted. Not to mention completely mortified. What is wrong with me? I had no choice, of course, but to refuse his offer of a ride. Even if I hadn’t had my bike with me, I’d sooner have walked than ridden home with a cretin like Tommy Sullivan. Except that it was pretty hard to keep thinking of him as a cretin when he insisted on cruising along behind me in his car—the Jeep Wrangler, it turned out—to make sure I got home in one piece. Because, he said, even with lights and a helmet, he didn’t think it was safe for me to ride a bike in the dark, what with all the drunk drivers they bust on Post Road every night. Which—okay, I’ll admit—was totally sweet of him. Seth doesn’t even follow me when I’m on my bike to make sure I get home all right. And he’s my boyfriend, not my mortal enemy. But then Tommy had to blow any warm feelings I might have been harboring for him by stage-whispering my name when I was halfway across the dew-dampened lawn to the front door after parking my bike. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to speak to—let alone see—him ever again. But it had been nice of him to follow me home. And—well, whatever. He really does have totally cute lips. So I stopped, then turned. “What?” I demanded in my least friendly voice. “There’ll be plenty of time for kissing later,” he had the gall to assure me, in a voice that made it clear he was doing everything possible to keep from bursting out laughing. I was so mad, I practically hurled my bag at his head, wet bathing suit and all. “I wouldn’t kiss you,” I informed him acidly, not even caring if Mrs. Hall, our snoopy neighbor from next door, overheard me, “if you were the last guy on earth!” But Tommy didn’t even have the sense to be insulted. He just laughed and drove off. And it was definitely a MWA ha ha ha evil laugh, and not the ha ha kind.



I KNOW THE POST IS LONG GIRLS , BUT SERIOUSLY COULD’NT CONTROL IN PUTTING IN THE EXCERPTS ….ENJOY …AND DO TELL ME WHEN U READ THE BOOKS …. MEG CABOT *WITH A HAND ON MY HEART* NO MATTER HOW MANY HIGH HANDED BOOKS I READ , YOUR ROMANCE NOVELS ROCK !!!

Friday, March 20, 2009

IF ONLY THEY MADE MEN LIKE THIS .......(PART III)


THERE WERE THREE THINGS PLAYING IN HER MIND - AS SHE FELT HIS BREATH WARM HER CHEEK.
FIRST - AS SHE FELT THE NAKED (& SCULPTED!!!!!) MAN ATOP HER , SHE REITERATED - HER FANTASIES HAD NOT DONE HIM JUSTICE...
SECOND - SHE WAS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM ( AND PEOPLE HAD TOLD HER SEX WAS OVERRATED!!!) & THAT SHE DID NOT MIND BEING TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF !!
AND LASTLY - SHE WAS BLISSFULLY HAPPY
(WHY DO WOMEN ALWAYS WAKE UP BEFORE MEN AFTER TORRID SEX ???? WHY CAN'T MEN GET UP & TAKE IT OFF FROM WHERE THEY LAST LEFT ??? IT WOULD SAVE A LOT OF DRAMA!! - THERE GOES THE JADED TEENAGER AGAIN - I FORGOT THATS , THE "ROMANCE" PART OF IT ....)

SHE FELT LIKE CRYING THOUGH. WHERE WOULD THIS GO ???? SHE FELT WRONGED - THINKING THAT SHE WOULD NOT BE WRONGED IN THIS PARTICULAR MANNER AGAIN. SHE COULD POSSIBLE GAUGE OUT HIS EYES , EXCEPT SHE LOVED THE WAY THEY CRINKLED UP.
WHY HAD SHE BEEN SO WEAK ???? (OH YEAH, BECAUSE HE WAS HOTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!)
WHY DID'NT SHE REMEMBER TO MAKE PROMISES AND GET REASSURANCES ?? WHY DID SHE GET SO CARRIED AWAY WITH WHATEVER HE DID TO HER (DUH ! BECAUSE HE WAS HOTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!)

SHE FELT OPRAH WINFREY SCOWL AT HER EXCUSES. ALL GREAT WOMEN (MOST OF THEM BEING SINGLE...) CAME TO HER MIND ONE BY ONE AND SHOOK THEIR HEADS AT THE WHIMSICAL NATURE OF HER "LITTLE EXPLOIT."

SHE TRIED TELLING HERSELF - "PROBABLY HE WILL COMMIT, HE CAN'T JUST BE THE DEFLOWERING TYPE . I RECOGNISE THEM DON'T I ??"

SHE REGRETTED BEING A VIRGIN - FOR THE DUDE WHO TOOK HER TO "WONDERLAND " SO HAD TO BE EXPERIENCED.
THE GREATNESS THAT HAD STOOD SCORNING HER SLUTTINESS WAS DISPELLED FROM HER MIND - WHICH PLAYED HOST TO A NUMBER OF SCANTILY CLAD HOES ALL WITH PEANUT SPEECH BUBBLES SCREAMING ON THEIR HEADS - "OH YEAH , HE SLEPT WITH ME !!"
SHE REMINDED HERSELF OF PRINCESS MIA , WHO BROKE UP WITH MICHAEL (HE COMES BACK IN THE 10TH BOOK !!! YAY ) JUST COZ HE HAD SLEPT WITH JUDITH. SHE FOCUSSED ON THE PRESENT PROBLEM - WHAT TO DO NOW ???????

SHE LOOKED AT HIS FACE - SMOOTH AND HANDSOME IN SLEEP - SHE WAS AWARE OF HIS HAND RIGHT UNDER HER BUSTLINE - HIS SOFT DARK HAIR BRUSHING AGAINST HER NECK - HE HELD STRONGLY TO HER - PINNING HER DOWN AND THEREBY MAKING ALL ESCAPE IMPOSSIBLE. AS SHE LOOKED AT THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE - SHE FELT GOOSEBUMPS RISE ALL OVER BODY . SHE BIT BACK THE SOB EMERGING IN HER THROAT - PROBABLY SHE WOULD NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN !!!! (IF ONLY MEN EXERCISED A LITLLE CONTROL ON THEIR "DESIRES", THEY WOULD SAVE US A LOT OF INTERNAL CONFLICT !!!)

SHE REALISED , SHE HAD TO BE THE ONE TO APPEAR INCREDULOUS AND SHOCKED AND NOT LET ON HOW MUCH SHE HAD ENJOYED IT .

"WELL, IF SOMEBODY HAS TO BE DUMPED - IT BETTER BE ME DOING THE DUMPING!!"

SHE TURNED TO FACE HIS FACE , BROUGHT HER HANDS TO HIS SHOULDERS AND GAVE THEM A LITTLE PUSH . HE MUMBLED INAUDIBLY IN SLEEP - "I NEED TO GO TO THE LOO" - SHE COOED UPTO HIM - WHILE SHE KISSED HIM LIGHTLY ON HIS CHEEK - TO PET HIM - TO MAKE HIM BELIEVE SHE WAS ALL GOOEY AND TAKEN NOW.....(AS IF !!!)

THE KISS DID THE TRICK , HE MOVED AND WENT BACK TO SLEEP . SHE STOOD UP NAKED - AND CLUTCHED TO THE BEDCOVERS - BLUSHED AT THE GREEK GOD (UNDERCOVER.... !! LOL.. I SO LUV THIS !! ) AND FELT HER RESOLUTION WEAKENING - SHE DROPPED THE BED COVER BACK ON HIM - (HE NEEDED IT MORE !!) AND RAN TO THE LOO , GRABBING WHATEVER CLOTHES CAME TO HER HANDS .

SHE TURNED , MEANING TO LOCK THE BATHROOM - WHEN A HARD PUSH THREW OPEN THE DOOR - HE STOOD IN FULL GLORY - SCOWLING AT HER - AND ANGRIER THAN SHE HAD EVER SEEN HIM -
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING ???" HE SAID SPELLING EACH SYLLABLE WITH UNNECESARY FORCE.
THOUGH SHE HAD COWERED UNDER HIS GAZE EARLIER - SHE COLOURED UP - AND TOLD HIM WITH THE CHARACTERISTIC FEMALE FINESS - "I AM PUTTING ON SOME CLOTHES, NOW IF U DON'T MIND," SHE SAID , CLOSING THE DOOR - HE PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR - AND SOON HAD HER PINNED TO THE BATHROOM WALL - "EW !! STOP WILL YOU , ITS REALLY DIRTY- FOR GOD SAKE ITS THE HOSTEL BATHROOM WALL !!" HE PAID NO ATTENTION TO HER - AND HIS LIPS STARTED CURLING AT THE CORNERS - " BUT THEY DON'T SUIT YOU HALF SO WELL...." HE TRACED THE PATH FROM HER NECK TO HER BELLYBUTTON WITH HIS FOREFINGER (POOR GIRL!! PHOOLAN DEVI WOULD HAVE BEEN MARSHAMLLOWED AT THAT!!) AND CONTINUED - "THIS I THINK , IS VERYYY FETCHING ...."

SHE STARTED HYPERVENTILATING - AND WANTED TO MELT RIGHT INTO THE FLOOR - INFACT SHE COULD'NT FEEL ANYTHING EXCEPT THE SKIN HIS DAMN FINGER HAD TRACED - SHE RESOLUTELY , RAISED HER KNEE TO HIT HIM IN THE CRUTCH (CONSIDERING PUSHES AND JIVES WERE NO USE), HE BROUGHT HIS HAND DOWN, TO HER KNEE - SLAMMED IT HARD AGAINST HIS THIGH - AND LAUGHED HIS HEAD OFF - "DON'T TELL ME THAT'S ALL YOU LEARNT IN SELF DEFENSE ...."
HE THREW HER ON HIS SHOULDER - SHE FOUGHT ALL SHE COULD BUT TO NO AVAIL.

THEN THROWING HER ON HER BED... PINNING HER WRISTS DOWN - (DESTRYING ALL HER ATTEMPTS AT DISTANCING HERSELF FROM HIM )TOLD HER IN MOCK ANGER - "IF U EVER TRY TRICKING ME AGAIN , YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF PINNED DOWN UNDER ME FOR EVER ...."

HE KISSED HER - AND PROCEEDED TO WRONG HER AGAIN .... (THAT'S THE KIND OF STAMINA WE TALK BOUT BOYS!!!) .
LITTLE DID HE KNOW HER RENEWED VIGOUR IN KISSING HIM WAS A RESULT OF THE TERM - ""PINNED DOWN UNDER ME FOREVER ......."
YA U GOT IT ....WE GIRLS ARE SUCKERS FOR COMMITMENT !!!!

************************************************************************************

P.S. I REMEMBER , ON UNCENSORED , THAT SEX IS A GREAT WORKOUT - U LOSE AROUND 800 CALORIES , PER SESSION. SO PANDU ,SHEFALI , AND OFCOURSE ALL POTENTIAL POEPLE HOPING TO LOSE WEIGHT [INCLUDING MOI....] ALL THAT WE NEED , IS GOOD SEX.....

LOL!!!!!!!

Friday, March 13, 2009

IF ONLY THEY MADE MEN LIKE THIS .......[PART II]




HER HANDS ON HER WAIST- SHE LOOKED LIKE A FUMING MUM , WHO HAD CAUGHT HER SON DOING DOPE. "LEAVE...." SHE SAID TO HIM , POINTING TOWARDS THE DOOR
HE RAISED HIS EYES, IN A QUIZZICAL MANNER - AND MOVING TOWARDS HER , TOLD HER IN THT CHARACTERISTIC STRAIGHT BLUNT HONESTY OF HIS - "UNFORTUNATELY , I HAVE NO INTENTION OF DOING SO"

SHE LOOKED UP STRAIGHT AT HIM ( 6 " FEET'S NO JOKE !!) AND GAVE HIM HER STANDARD RESPONSE - "I SEE NO PURPOSE IN THIS - YOU LEAVE OR I'LL RAISE AN ALARM!!!"
HE KEPT MOVING TOWARDS HER - WHILE SHE MUMBLED HYSTERICALLY , BACKING INTO HER ROOM "YOU LEAVE RIGHT NOW MISTER OR YOU'LL BE REALLY SORRY" - WHEN SHE BUMPED INTO HER BED . "OWWW !!! LOOK WAT YOU DID NOW!!!" , BEFORE SHE KNEW IT , HE HAD BENT DOWN , AND PULLED AT HER CALVES - SHE CLUTCHED HANDFULS OF HIS SHIRT TO STEADY HERSELF - AND BOTH FELL PELL MELL INTO HER BED.

SO MANY TIMES, SHE HAD DREAMT , FANTASIZED ABOUT IT !! YET NOW IT SEEMED MORE THAN ANNOYING - HE NEVER DID THINGS LIKE THIS - SHE ASKED HIM - NO TOLD HIM , "TUM PI KE AAYE HON !!!!"

HE DID WHAT HE USUALLY DID AROUND HER - IGNORED HER THAT IS , AND KEPT LOOKING AT HER- HIS LIPS TURNING REDDER BY THE SECOND (I SAW IT ON DISCOVERY, WHEN WE ARE THAT CLOSE TO A MEMBER OF THE OPPOSITE SEX , OUR HEART PUMPS BLOOD INTO OUR LIPS , TO MAKE THEM "INVITING" ). SHE TIGHTENED HER GRIP ON HIS SHIRT, PULLING HIM CLOSER , HISSED AT HIM "GET OFF ME RIGHT NOW!!"
HE SHOWED THE PERFECT DISPLAY OF NONCHALANCE HE USUALLY RESERVED FOR HER , AND RAN HIS HANDS DOWN THE SIDES OF HER WAIST- SHE THOUGHT "WELL , I GUESS PAYING ATTENTION TO ME IS NOT ENGRAINED IN NY PART OF HIS BRAIN - CONSCIOUS OR UNCONSCIOUS"
SHE TRIED HARD TO TO BITE BACK THE URGE TO PULL HIS MOUTH ON HERS - AND RESOLUTELY GAVE HIM A ROUGH SHUV. IT HAD NO EFFECT - HE LOOKED BACK AT HER , & CIRCLING HER WAIST , PULLED HER AGAINST HIM - PUSHING AGAINST HER LIPS WITH DIZZYING STRENGTH

HER SURPRISE KNEW NO BOUNDS , "GOD , MY FANTACIES DO NOT DO HIM JUSTICE !!!"

FINALLY WHEN HE LET HER FOR BREATH - ALL HER FIRM VIRTUES WERE FORGOTTEN , HER HANDS HAD MOVED FROM THE FRONT OF HIS SHIRT TO HIS NECK . SHE FELT BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF EVERYTHING AND NOTHING MADE SENSE EXCEPT THE GUY ATOP HER RIGHT THEN.....

HE WAS SMILING NOW , - PANTING AND SMILING. THE SMILE BROUGHT HER BACK TO HER SENSES- SHE STARTED PUSHING HIM BACK - HE TOOK BOTH HER HANDS IN HIS AND PINNED THEM BEHIND HER BACK -"DON'T FIGHT IT SWEETHEART - YOU'VE WANTED IT SINCE THE FIRST DAY!!" SHE BLUSHED , SCOWLED AND NARROWED HER EYES ALL IN THE SAME INSTANT - "FUCK" , SHE THOUGHT "HE KNEW !!! ""
SHE USED WHATEVER CAME TO HER HEAD RIGHT THEN - "JUST BECAUSE YOU HANG AROUND WHORES ALL DAY , DOES'NT MEAN I AM ONE TOO, GET OFF ME OR ILL MAKE YOU ...."

HE PAYED HER AS LITTLE ATTENTION AS EVER - HE CONTINUED KISSING HER NECK "TOO BAD.... IV WANTED IT EVER SINCE, YOU JUTTED THAT CHIN OF YOURS INTO MY LIFE.."
CONFESSION, SHE THOUGHT - PLEASURABLE- HER CHEEKS BETRAYED THE JOY SHE FELT AT HIS STATEMENT - AND RESISTING THE URGE TO JUT OUT HER CHIN AGAIN (AS IT WOULD HAVE BROUGHT HER CLOSER TO HIM , AND ALL PURPOSE WOULD THEN HAVE BEEN FORGOTTEN....) "WHATEVER", SHE SAID "I DON'T CARE, AND I AM NOT INTERESTED !!!" (YA SURE !!).HE LOOKED UP AT HER FROM HER THROAT AND SAID IN THAT ANNOYING SINCERE VOICE OF HIS - "WE'LL IN THAT CASE, YOUR VIRTUE IS IN GREAT DANGER "
SHE OPENED AND CLOSED HER MOUTH LIKE A GOLDFISH - & FINALLY MANAGED TO ASK HIM , HER VOICE SHAKING INCREDOLOUSLY - "YOU WILL RAPE ME ?????" (THINKING TO HERSELF AT THE SAME TIME , HOW HARD HIS WRETCHEDNESS MADE THINGS FOR HER) - HE SMILED , WIDELY, PUTTING HIS HAND BENEATH HER CHIN, HE SAID TO HER, WITH MOCK SINCERITY - "I DON'T THINK IT WILL COME TO THAT. YOU ARE MORE THAN WILLING TO COMPLY," AND BENT DOWN, TO KISS HER.


TO TELL YOU MORE - WHAT HAPPENED NEXT , DISAPPOINTED THE "NUNS" A LOT!!!!!!!!

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APPEAL : DO YOU KNOW A GUY LIKE THIS ?????????????

IF ONLY THEY MADE MEN LIKE THIS [ PART 1] .......



HE STOOD AT THE DOOR - SMILING INSOLENTLY AT HER . SHE FUMED (HE COULD LOOK SOOOOOOOOO HANDSOME EVEN WHILE BEING POSITIVELY IMPISH!!!) MORE AT HERSELF THAN AT HIM.
JUTTING OUT HER CHIN, IN A CHILDISH MANNER - SHE BALLED HER HANDS INTO FISTS - AND RESOLUTELY WALKED TOWARDS HIM - "WHAT DO YOU THINK , YOU'RE DOING HERE ???" SHE MANAGED TO LET OUT IN A SINGLE BREATH , LEST SHE FORGET TO BE ANGRY....

HIS INSOLENT GRIN VANISHED , - AND PURSING HIS LIPS - WHICH TREMBLED AND THREATENED TO BREAK INTO PEALS OF LAUGHTER - HE SAID TO HER - "OH GOD!! YOU ARE SOOOO ADORABLE AND ALSO SOOOOOO DARN PREDICTABLE !!!!" - HER EYES NARROWING DANGEROUSLY ( HER FEMININE VIRTUES CONCENTRATING MORE ON HIS SLIGHT THAN HIS LOOKS ...) AND WITH GREAT DETERMINATION , SHE TOLD HIM -"I DO NOT THINK THAT THERE IS ANY POINT IN US TALKING TO EACH OTHER. YOU BELIEVE I AM STUPID AND I KNOW THAT YOU ARE A MEAN , WRETCHED AND AN UNGENTLEMANLY PERSON . PLEASE LEAVE ". THE TREMBLING STOPPED - AND HE LOOKED AT HER STRAIGHT IN THE EYES (LET'S SAY, THAT THE EARLIER SLIGHT WAS MORE THAN FORGIVEN...) AND PUTTING BOTH HIS HANDS ON HER SHOULDERS , HE SAID TO HER - "YOU'RE OBSERVATIONS ARE SO APT !!! " - THEN SEEING HER FACE , THE CURBED LAUGHTER BROKE LOOSE, IN LOUD GUSTS.

SHE GAVE HIM THE MEANEST EXPRESSION SHE COULD MUSTER , AND FREED HERSELF FROM HIM - FUMING IN EMBARASSMENT OVER HER OWN RAPTURES - "I AM SO STUPID !!!!"

HE TURNED HER BACK TO HIM , AND RAISED HER TO HIS HEIGHT , BY HER SHOULDERS , PINNING HER AGAINST THE WALL - AS IF SHE WEIGHED NOTHING ( WHICH SHE ACTUALLY QUITE DID'NT , CONSIDERING SHE HAD STARVED HERSELF TO REACH THAT STAGE , BUT YOU GET MY DRIFT ANYWAY...) - HE CONTINUED IN THE SAME BREATH - "I DON'T BELIEVE IT , YOU WERE RIGHT, THERE IS NO ONE LIKE YOU AROUND HERE NYMORE ..."
SHE COULD NOT BREATHE , LET ALONE THINK . THE MANY NIGHTS CAME BACK TO HER - WHERE SHE HAD ALWAYS DREAMT OF SUCH ENCOUNTERS. "OH GOD , HE IS SOO CLOSE!!!"
UNFORTUNATELY , NICE LITTLE SCARED GIRL THAT SHE HAD BEEN ALL HER LIFE - THE MANY NUNS OF THE CONVENT WHERE SHE HAD STUDIED - CAME RUSHING BACK TO HER MIND , LIKE A LOUD SWORN AMEN - SCOWLING AND SCORNING HER VIRTUES , AND HAILING HER AS A FAILURE - MEG CABOT READINGS - "HE WONT BUY THE COW , IF HE CAN HAVE THE MILK FOR FREE...." COMPETED WITH THE MOUNTING HORMONES - AND PINNING THEM DOWN [DAMN YOU , TRADITIONS !!!] MANAGED TO GIVE HER ENOUGH BREATH TO PUT WORDS BETWEEN THEM - "PUT ME DOWN , AND GET OUT OF HERE..."

THE ONE TIME , SHE WOULD HAVE GIVEN ANYTHING FOR HIM TO BEHAVE AS "WRETCHED" AS SHE THOUGHT HE WAS , HE LISTENED TO HER.PUTTING HER DOWN , HE CHEEKILY TOLD HER - ""DON'T WORRY , IM NOT GONNA KISSSSSSS YOU !!! " - AND LEFT , STILL SHAKING WITH SILENT LAUGHTER. SHE SCREAMED AFTER HIM - "I REALLY HATE YOU , ASSOLE!!!!"

SLAMMING THE DOOR HARD - SHE SUNK INTO HER HARD BED - WEEPING INTO THE BEDCOVERS- THINKING - HER LIFE WAS DOOMED. SHE DECIDED THAT HE COULD NOT BE TRUSTED TO DO ANYTHING THAT WOULD MAKE HER HAPPY , AND IN HIM LAY HER DEATH.

WELL, SHE WAS A SILLY LITTLE GIRL AFTER ALL !!!


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THIS IS PART OF MY MANY DREAMS AND FANTISIES AND REALITY ENCOUNTERS, IN ROMANCE [MOST OF THE DIALOGUES] - I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY AN OVERRACTIVE AND EROTIC IMAGINATION.......