I Love Being A Pavement Artist; Seriously,

I For One Like Chaos. Chaos Looks Good On Me.

Kat," Hale Groaned, Then Fell Back Onto The Pillows. "funny, I Didn't Hear A Doorbell." "i Let Myself In; Hope That's Okay." Hale Smiled. "or The Alarm." She Stepped Inside, Tossed A Pocket-size Bag Of Tools Onto The Bed. "you're Due For An Upgrade." Hale Propped Himself Against The Antique Headboard And Squinted Up At Her. "she Returns." He Crossed His Arms Across His Bare Chest. "you Know, I Could Be Naked In Here.

The Bagshaws Aren't Boys. They're Bombs With Very Colorful Fuses.

Sleep Every Chance You Get. Eat Every Chance You Get. Those Were Two Of The Many Lessons That Kat Learned At Her Father’s Knee And Her Uncle’s Table.

I Didn’t Know What Was More Disturbing—the Fact That Something Was Obviously Wrong, Or That Three Faculty Members Of The World’s Premiere Spy School Had Forgotten To Lock The Door.