Spies should be able to endure torture and still keep their secrets. I spilled mine out like pennies from a broken piggy bank.
Myra McEntireYou are sweetness and light. Human cotton candy.
Myra McEntireMots clés kaleb-ballard
I'm a bad ass. A bad ass who bakes when he's depressed.
Myra McEntireMots clés kaleb-ballard
I reached our building only to find a wide-eyed Southern belle wearing a Civil Way-era dress blocking the front door. A silk parasol and a full hoopskirt completed her ensemble. I wore something like it to a costume party once, but hers was an original. Frustration was back, and now it was in my way.
In the form of freaking Scarlatt O'Hara.
Sighing, I stuck my hand through her stomach to turn the knob, meeting no resistance. I rolled my eyes as she gasped, fluttered her eyelashes, and disappeared in a puff of air.
"You know, Scarlett, Rhett didn't give a dang, and frankly, I don't either.
It's different this time."
"It was different last time."
Thomas tried again. "This guy-"
"Has a third eye you can visibly see?
He made no attempt to move toward me but stood still, his bright blue eyes assessing me. I shivered. He was giving my goose bumps a field day.
Myra McEntireWelcome to insanity.
Myra McEntireMy boarding school had been in Sedona, Arizona. Pioneers didn't roll up on the town until the turn of the century, so it wasn't real hard to tell the difference between an ancient Yavapai potter and, say, my gym teacher.
Myra McEntireI avoided any theme parks or museums where the employees dressed true to period. Complete nightmare. I also spent a lot of time trying not to touch people.Unless they were wearing a hoop skirt. And they were standing in my way.
Myra McEntireI mean, they were really high and pointy, and although I'm not clumsy, they were potentially lethal both to me and anyone in my general vicinity.
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