Imagine Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan going mini-golfing. Steve would goofily insist on helping Jonathan with his swing, wrapping his arms around him from behind and teasingly whispering in his ear. As retaliation, Jonathan would casually stick his golf club out in the path of every shot Steve makes, sending it off course. Nancy would quietly serve up several hole-in-ones and, as winner, declare that her boys owe her a fancy homemade dinner.
Impatiently Waiting for The Silver Mask(The Magisterium #4) by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare
I’m not going to lie to you guys. The Magisterium is a Middle-Grade series and I am a grown woman and yet The Bronze Key (book 3) killed me. KILLED ME. I was blown away and devastated and shocked and angry. There was a bit of “How dare Cassandra Clare and Holly Black do this to me?” I’m sure both authors sensed it and laughed hysterically in their caves of evil.
Basically, if you like Harry Potter and Percy Jackson you will probably love Callum Hunt…except Collum isn’t the chosen one of the heroes of our story. It’s loopy, topsy, turvy, twisty and a whole lot of fun.
Big fan and excited for the next book in the series.
Callum Hunt’s life has fallen apart.
His friend is gone. The spy has escaped. His secret is out.
He is facing an existence behind bars, banished from the rest of the magical community for what he is - for what he might become.
But a shocking revelation has promised freedom - at a cost. Will he stay strong, and faithful to his friends and teachers? Or take the risk, and destroy everything he’s ever loved?
This fourth year at the Magisterium will be unlike anything else that has gone before …
“The shape of Kieran’s shoulder was like the rise of hills, his hair soft and dark as clouds; his eyes were stars and his body moved under Mark’s like rush of waterfall no human eye had ever seen. He was starlight and strangeness and freedom. He was a hundred arrows loosed from a hundred bows at the same time”.
WARNING: Smut. If you’re not into smut, don’t worry, the plot doesn’t twist and the characters don’t develop. See you for part 7.
Why can’t I sleep? I’ve had a lot to drink, there is no child keeping me up and complaining of nightmares, the room is pitch black, and the soundproof windows are doing their job by shutting out London’s night-time traffic noise shuffling past on the streets below. It’s nearly 5am and I’m still tossing and turning. I’m not stressed about work, I’m not upset about anything, I have not a care in the world.
I close my eyes and the answer to why I can’t sleep hits me straight behind the eyelids. I feel his lips against mine, his hands behind my neck, in my hair and tugging. The place on my neck where he relentless sucked until I moaned still feels wet to me and my insides are twisted and riled at the memory of a couple of hours ago.
We kissed. For hours. I knew it was leading to something more. Sex perhaps? Foreplay at least, surely. Do you know the last time I just kissed a guy without it going any further? I must have been about fifteen! Sometimes we’d break the kiss, begin talking and laughing, and then I’d feel his hand on my skin or he’d look at my lips for a split second, and inevitably we would end up kissing again. It was hot. He is hot. And this is exactly why I cannot sleep.
“Hey, what the hell are these doing in the trash? Isn`t that dangerous?”
“Yeah, it is. I bet Cutthroat could use them though!”
“Fuck yeah, you`re right!”
“Hey Cutthroat! These`re going in the trash if you don`t take them.“
I also scored like 7 cleaning kits and a set of punches and files. The leather pouch is a badass sunglasses case. Not pictured are all the cleaning accessories, nor the wood refinishing set. The house had a ton of books on black powder shooting and aircraft with models of historical planes all over the place. Story goes the previous resident was a USAF veteran and commercial pilot for years. If his house is anything to go by, he lived a rich full life. I can only hope to have a life like his.
“I have a theory why women like racing drivers. It’s not because they respect what we do, driving round and round in circles. Mostly they think that’s pathetic, and they’re probably right. It’s our closeness to death.”