"...cursing my heels and debating whether it was faster to stop and take them off--damn ankle straps!--or keep running with the potential neck breakers. Wouldn’t that make a charming epitaph? Here lies Cat. Killed not by fang, but Ferragamos."
"Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much?"
"She's my kitten, and no one else's."
"Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much?"
"I have been stabbed, shot, burned, bitten, beaten unconscious too many times to count, and even staked. None of those held a candle to the pain I felt at seeing his mouth on hers."
"You can run from the grave, but you can't hide."