the glass door

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* NEWFULLDB 2.4M *

1:He raises his voice so that I can hear him through the glass door. “Get some rest, Loopy. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet,” I echo. “Dream. ~ Stephanie Perkins,

2:Will, you look like hell!" I yelled through the glass door.
"I can't say how you look," he said. "But if you look like you sound, you look like a jerk. Please help me. ~ Alex Flinn,

3:There is someone looking through the befogged glass, he opens the glass door of the bar, everything is misty, inside, too, as if seen by nearsighted eyes, or eyes irritated by coal dust. ~ Italo Calvino,

4:Thought you said this was just dinner?”
Abe opens the glass door and holds it for me. As I pass by him, he lowers his head so that his voice is close to my ear. “It’s never just dinner. ~ Suzanne Young,

5:The glass door swung open and two big, homely women walked in looking guilty. They were the kind of women who, out of sheer loneliness, end up doing kinky stuff with candy bars and wake up with apple fritters in their hair. ~ Donald Ray Pollock,

6:Reversibility: seeing through opaqueness, not-seeing through transparency. The wooden door and the glass door: two opposite facets of the same idea. This opposition is resolved in an identity: in both cases we look at ourselves looking. Hinge procedure. The question “What do we see?” confronts us with ourselves. ~ Octavio Paz,

7:In fact, Callie showed evidence of more than reading our human intentions. She indicated her intentions. At dinner, she stood in front of the glass door leading from the kitchen to the back porch. She turned her head and looked at me. Then she turned back to gaze longingly outside. Back to me. Come on, I want to go outside. ~ Gregory Berns,

8:Iris arched her back, pushing her breast farther into Wyatt's hungry mouth. Water from the giant marble-tiled hotel shower rushed down over them, the sound of it hitting the glass door seeming loud in the enclosure. He lightly pressed down with his teeth and tugged her nipple, sending a pulsing sweep of need through her. The man was too talented with his tongue. ~ Katie Reus,

9:During the night one of the men complained of lack of air, and upon arising he groped through the dark to what he thought was the window. He couldn’t open it, and, after finding a shoe, knocked out the pane of glass. Then they slept comfortably the rest of the night, only to discover at dawn that the window was intact. What had been smashed was the glass door to a closet! ~ Claude M Bristol,

10:Taking a step forward, he opened the glass door. She looked at him and waited.
“I told you, I need to shower, too.”
“There is another shower.”
“But you’re not in it.”
He was startled to see her smile. Then her smile faded and a little shudder rippled through her. She backed up, inviting him in. He stripped in seconds and followed her.
“Shampoo?” she offered.
“That would be good.”
“On your head?” she asked.
“Where else?”
“Should I show you? ~ Heather Graham,

11:What's that?' Beck shoved his back ineffectually against the glass door, suffering under the weight of a huge box. 'Your brian.' I already have a brain.' If you did, you'd have opened the door for me.' I shot him a dark look and let him shove against the door a moment longer before I ducked under his arms to push it open. 'What is it really?' Schoolbooks. We're going to educate you properly, so you don't grow up to be an idiot.; I remembered by intrigued by the idea of school-in-a-box, just-add-water-and-Sam. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,

12:What's that?'
Beck shoved his back ineffectually against the glass door, suffering under the weight of a huge box. 'Your brian.'
I already have a brain.'
If you did, you'd have opened the door for me.'
I shot him a dark look and let him shove against the door a moment longer before I ducked under his arms to push it open. 'What is it really?'
Schoolbooks. We're going to educate you properly, so you don't grow up to be an idiot.;
I remembered by intrigued by the idea of school-in-a-box, just-add-water-and-Sam. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,

13:But I bet they don’t know what I saw.” Puller sat down in a chair next to her bed. “So why don’t you tell me what that was?” Knox glanced at the glass door to her room and saw a police officer, a man in a suit, and a burly MP standing guard there. “They’re not taking any chances with you,” he said, following her gaze. “Cops, FBI, and the military.” She turned back to Puller and slowly but clearly told him what she had seen. The van, the kid, everything. “So it was a deliberate setup the whole way,” Puller concluded. “It appeared to be. But why target Carter?” “Well, he heads up an important part of our nation’s defenses. He’s a target just by virtue ~ David Baldacci,

14:She glanced at the bathroom door once more, her cheeks growing warm as the glass door slid open and Kane emerged from the steamy shower stall.
Naked.
She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his nude, dripping-wet body. He had the kind of rock-hard physique that would make other women drool. His broad chest tapered to a trim waist, and his legs were thick and dusted with golden hair. He was lean, not bulky, with perfectly sculpted muscles that looked like they'd been carved out of marble. He was hard. Everywhere.
"I'm afraid it's too late for you to join me in the shower," he said in a silky voice. "Though we could still make good use of the bed. ~ Elle Kennedy,

15:Perhaps what I liked far more was the evening. Everything about it thrilled me. Every glance that crossed my own came like a compliment, or like an asking and a promise that simply lingered in midair between me and the world around me. I was electrified — by the chaffing, the irony, the glances, the smiles that seemed pleased I existed, by the buoyant air in the shop that graced everything from the glass door to the petits fours, to the golden ochre spell of plastic glasses filled with scotch whiskey, to Mr. Venga's rolled up sleeves, to the poet himself, down to the spiral staircase where we had congregated with the babe sisters — all seemed to glow with a luster at once spellbound and aroused. ~ Andr Aciman,

16:He palmed his cock and rubbed along the piercings first, pulling them just enough to make him throb. He hissed at the pain and then fought a groan as he imagined Prophet doing this to him . . . The glass door opened, the steam rushed out, and Prophet stood there, watching. Before Tom could say anything, Prophet ordered, “Don’t stop now—jerk yourself, since you can’t keep your hands off it.” “Since when do you fucking tell me what to do?” Tom demanded crankily. Of course, he kept on sliding his hand up and down his cock, partly because fuck, it was good—better when ordered, sure—and partly because the look in Prophet’s eyes as he watched Tom doing it was just . . . Fuck. Fuck yes. “Don’t come though,” Prophet told him casually, and look who had a second wind. “Until when?” Tom gritted his teeth and slowed himself down. “Until I say. Clear enough?” Tom ~ S E Jakes,

17:The all-night convenience store's empty
and no one is behind the counter.
You open and shut the glass door a few times
causing a bell to go off,
but no one appears. You only came
to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe
a copy of yesterday's newspaper --
finally you take one and leave
thirty-five cents in its place.
It is freezing, but it is a good thing
to step outside again:
you can feel less alone in the night,
with lights on here and there
between the dark buildings and trees.
Your own among them, somewhere.
There must be thousands of people
in this city who are dying
to welcome you into their small bolted rooms,
to sit you down and tell you
what has happened to their lives.
And the night smells like snow.
Walking home for a moment
you almost believe you could start again.
And an intense love rushes to your heart,
and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable. ~ Franz Wright,

18:He knew nothing about werewolves but what was in the movies. He hadn’t even believed they existed until he was attacked. The tall dude, though, knew.
Joshua managed to force his body to make a left-hand turn at the corner, and again once he was across the street, and then a third time. He came looping past the Kitchen Kitsch where the tall dude was standing in the hole in the wall.
“You’re really conflicted about this running away part, aren’t you?” the dude said as Joshua dashed past him.
“Yes!” He tried to put on the brakes but his body kept running. He could smell his own blood on the man and his body wanted nothing to do with that.
The dude wasn’t standing in the hole as Joshua came looping back toward the Kitchen Kitsch a second time. Joshua was afraid he’d lost the man. He was so focused on the opposite side of the street that he nearly ran into the glass door that opened out in front of him. A hand caught him, jerking him into the building. ~ Wen Spencer,

19:Can you see the entry?” “Yes.” “Watch.” “It’s only two o’clock. Will be hours before he come.” “Watch.” He expected her to fidget or try to make conversation, but she didn’t. She sat behind him, a second presence in the car, quiet and still, watching. They watched for an hour and ten minutes, silent, as people came and went around them, parking, backing out, pushing buggies filled high with groceries. Rina did not move or speak for the entire time, but then she suddenly pulled herself forward, and pointed past his chin. “That window on the top floor, on the side there away from the freeway. That was mine.” Then she settled back and said nothing more. Pike studied her in the rearview, but only for a moment. He didn’t want her to catch him staring. An hour and twenty minutes later, she abruptly pulled herself forward again. “That girl. She is one of the girls there. In the green.” A young woman in black spandex shorts and a lime green top came around the corner and went to the glass door. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and a large gym bag was slung over her shoulder. On her way back from the gym. She was lean and fit, but her breasts were too large to be natural. She looked very young. Rina said, “You see? I know this girl when they bring her here. They make her waitress, and then she dance.” “Stripper.” “Yes. And this.” The girl let herself into the lobby, then pushed a button for the elevator. Fifteen minutes later, Rina pulled forward again. “There. In the black car.” A black BMW convertible turned off Sepulveda and crept past the building as if looking for a parking place. The driver was a white male in his twenties with a thick neck and long, limp hair. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, a day-old beard, and mirrored sunglasses. Pike ~ Robert Crais,

20:I rolled away from him with a gasp of laughter and hopped out of bed. “I need a shower.”
Jack followed readily. I stopped short as I flipped on the switch in his bathroom, an immaculate well-lit space with contemporary cabinetry and modern stone vessel sinks.
But it was the shower that left me speechless, a room made of glass and slate and granite, with rows of dials and knobs and thermostats. “Why is there a car wash in your bathroom?”
Jack went past me, opened the glass door, and went inside. As he turned knobs and adjusted the temperature on digital screens, jets sprouted from every conceivable place, and steam collected in white drifts. Three rainfall streams came directly from the ceiling.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Jack’s voice filtered through the sound of abundant falling water.
I went to the glass doorway and peeked inside. Jack was a magnificent sight, all bronzy and lean, a sheet of water glimmering over his skin. His stomach was drum-tight, his back gorgeous and sleekly muscled.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” I said, “but you need to start exercising. A man your age shouldn’t let himself go.”
He grinned and gestured for me to come to him.
I ventured into the maelstrom of competing sprays, battered with heat from all directions. “I’m drowning,” I said, spluttering, and he pulled me out of the direct downpour of an overhead spray. “I wonder how much water we’re wasting.”
“You know, Ella, you’re not the first woman who’s ever been in this shower with me—”
“I’m shocked.” I leaned against him as he soaped my back.
“— but you’re for damn sure the first one who’s ever worried about wasting water.”
“How much, would you say?”
“Ten gallons per minute, give or take.”
“Oh my God. Hurry. We can’t stay in here long. We’ll throw the entire ecological system out of balance.”
“This is Houston, Ella. The ecological system won’t notice. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

21:Bucket had started his criminal career in Braas, not far from when Allan and his new friends now found themselves. There he had gotten together with some like-minded peers and started the motorcycle club called The Violence. Bucket was the leader; he decided which newsstand was to be robbed of cigarettes next. He was the one who has chosen the name- The Violence, in English, not swedish. And he was the one who unfortunately asked his girlfriend Isabella to sew the name of the motorcycle club onto ten newly stolen leather jackets. Isabella had never really learned to spell properly at school, not in Swedish, and certainly not in English.

The result was that Isabella sewed The Violins on the jackets instead. As the rest of the club members had had similar academic success, nobody in the group noticed the mistake.
So everyone was very surprised when one day a letter arrived for The Violins in Braas from the people in charge of the concert hall in Vaxjo. The letter suggested that, since the club obviously concerned itself with classical music, they might like to put in am appearance at a concert with the city’s prestigious chamber orchestra, Musica Viate.

Bucket felt provoked; somebody was clearly making fun of him. One night he skipped the newsstand, and instead went into Vaxjo to throw a brick through the glass door of the concert hall. This was intended to teach the people responsible lesson in respect. It all went well, except that Bucket’s leather glove happened to follow the stone into the lobby. Since the alarm went off immediately, Bucket felt it would be unwise to try to retrieve the personal item in question.

Losing the glove was not good. Bucket had traveled to Vaxjo by motorbike and one hand was extremely cold all the way home to Braas that night. Even worse was the fact that Bucket’s luckless girlfriend had written Bucket’s name and adress inside the glove, in case he lost it."
For more quotes from the novel visit my blog: frommybooks.wordpress.com ~ Jonas Jonasson,

22:Hey,” a deep unfamiliar voice said from behind her. Every nerve went on alert. Her heart pounded with fear. Instinct told her to run, but how far could she go with him so close?
She grabbed a knife from the butcher block beside her and spun around, hurting her sore feet but not really feeling the pain. “Stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.”
Somewhere in her muddled mind he looked familiar, but the fear stole her rational thoughts. Her hands shook and she backed up into the counter, looking everywhere for an escape that seemed impossible.
“Hey now, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tears filled her eyes. Too much to take in one night, she stammered, “Get out. Leave me alone.”
The stranger took a step toward her, and she took one toward him. “Get out, or I’ll gut you where you stand.”
One side of his mouth cocked up in a slanted grin. His eyes flashed with admiration, confusing her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking for Owen.”
“He doesn’t live here. Why does everyone think he lives here?” she yelled.
A flash of movement came from her left; she swung to face the new danger and inhaled when Owen rushed her, pushing the knife out of his way and pulling her close. She immediately dropped it and grabbed hold of him as he kept his back to the stranger, her back to the counter, and his big body protecting her. “You’re okay, sweetheart. That’s my brother, Brody. He came to help me board up the glass door.”
He hugged her closer when she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and held him tighter, crying all over the front of his shirt, her face buried in his chest, her bravado from a moment ago drained away, overwhelmed by her fear. Owen was here, holding her, keeping her safe. She needed him and refused to let go, even when he tried to back away.
“Brody, man, you want to give us a minute.”
“Sure. I just wanted to let her know I’m here. She’s got a lot of guts, facing off with me with that knife. I like her.”
“Yeah, I like her, too.” Owen brushed his hand over her head and settled into her, holding her tight and close. Brody left with a chuckle and an “I bet you do.”
All of a sudden she felt foolish, but it didn’t stop her from staying in Owen’s arms. She shifted on her feet, and he slid his big hands down her back to her waist, hoisting her up onto the counter. His warm hands settled on her thighs, spreading them wide so he could stand between them. Close. Intimate. Their eyes met, and he reached up and swiped his thumbs across both her cheeks, taking away the tears.
She got hold of herself enough to say, “Your brother is huge.”
“You just faced off with an ex– Army Ranger. He could take you out with one lethal smile.”
“He wasn’t smiling.”
“He doesn’t much, since he got home. Unless he’s with Rain."

-Brody, Claire, & Owen ~ Jennifer Ryan,

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*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

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* NEWFULLDB 2.4M *