Imprinting."
I heard the smile disappear from Cat's face. "Next."
I repeated myself.
"Are you referring to Stephenie Meyer's books?"
"Yes," I said. A little unwillingly.
Cat chuckled. "There's no shame in reading enjoyable books. But this topic is better discussed later."
"Got it.
Christ girl, Ι wasn't even going to bite you. Well, not the way you're thinking."
"I'm flattered you want to fuck me as well as muder me. Really, Liam, that's sweet."
He grinned. "Valentine's Day was just last month, after all.
For several centuries, the Celtic church of Ireland was spared the Greek dualism of matter and spirit. They regarded the world with the clear vision of faith. When a young Celtic monk saw his cat catch a salmon swimming in shallow water, he cried, "The power of the Lord is in the paw of the cat!
Brennan ManningEven without being believed, magic can change things. It moves invisibly through the air, dissolving the usual ways of seeing, allowing new ways to creep in, secretly, quietly, like a stray cat sliding thought the bushes.
Janet Taylor LisleTag: secret believe magic quiet invisible cat
I threw my hands up. Men. They were impossible to reason with.
Jeaniene FrostTag: cat
You would wind up as a cat, I told her. They don't need anyone else.
I need you, she replied.
Well, I said. Maybe I'll come back as catnip.
Tag: wit cat reincarnation jodi-picoult my-sister-s-keeper
Bastard hits harder than a fucking freight train."
I just smiled. "I know.
Will the real Red Reaper please stand up?
Jeaniene FrostTag: cat one-grave-at-a-time
But—let me tell you my cat joke. It's very short and simple. A hostess is giving a dinner party and she's got a lovely five-pound T-bone steak sitting on the sideboard in the kitchen waiting to be cooked while she chats with the guests in the living room—has a few drinks and whatnot. But then she excuses herself to go into the kitchen to cook the steak—and it's gone. And there's the family cat, in the corner, sedately washing it's face."
"The cat got the steak," Barney said.
"Did it? The guests are called in; they argue about it. The steak is gone, all five pounds of it; there sits the cat, looking well-fed and cheerful. "Weigh the cat," someone says. They've had a few drinks; it looks like a good idea. So they go into the bathroom and weigh the cat on the scales. It reads exactly five pounds. They all perceive this reading and a guest says, "okay, that's it. There's the steak." They're satisfied that they know what happened, now; they've got empirical proof. Then a qualm comes to one of them and he says, puzzled, "But where's the cat?
Since you and Crispin are now finished and I have a few hours to kill, how about that shag?” he asked with heavy irony.
“Bite me,” I sighed, gathering up the pages.
He winked. “Of course. My second-favorite thing to do in bed.
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