7
" A towering blond woman in an emerald-green suit with lapels sharp enough to slice cheese stalks toward us, her expression set somewhere between rabid and murderous.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she shrieks as she comes alongside us and casts a tundra-cold glance in my direction.
Immediately, I think she’s talking about my clothing, which, while not precisely appropriate, wouldn’t seem to merit a Teutonic hissy fit. But her eyes bounce away from me again, and she presses her hand to her ear. “If this guy doesn’t work out, I will have no problem jamming an ice pick up your skinny ass, Paolo,” she says, and I finally notice the Bluetooth device tucked up next to a chignon tight enough to give her cat eyes.
She clips away, leaving flowers to shrivel and birds to drop from the sky in her wake.
“Jesus,” Ethan mutters, and I realize I’ve actually grabbed onto his arm in terror. “Here’s hoping she’s not the HR rep.”
I allow myself a moment’s enjoyment before releasing him. “Here’s hoping she doesn’t even work here.”
He smiles. “Here’s hoping she’s leaving on a ten-year cruise.”
“To Antarctica.”
“To reunite with her clan, the snow beasts.” "
― Noelle August , Boomerang (Boomerang, #1)
9
" Mom tugs off the lid of the serving dish, and I gasp. A surprised what-kind-of-freakin’-alchemy-is-this? -kind of gasp. Because the food looks, and smells, normal. Tantalizing, even. As a plus, it also resembles actual food—chicken in some kind of sauce. Things I actually recognize as root vegetables.
Mouths drop open in surprised “O’s” all around the table. Except for my mom’s, which presses into an exasperated line. My dad’s in trouble, but dinner’s saved.
“Wow, that smells different,” Ethan blurts. He flushes and tries to recover. “I mean delicious.”
Nana laughs and pats Ethan on the arm. “Nice try, young man.” "
― Noelle August , Boomerang (Boomerang, #1)
