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The Book of Secret Wisdom - The Prophetic Record of Human Destiny and Evolution NOBODY DOES IT BETTER (A Gossip Girl Novel - 07) Cecily Von. You Know You Love Me. Gossip Girl (Series). Book 2. Cecily von Ziegesar Author Christina Ricci Narrator (). cover image of You Know You Love Me. NOBODY DOES IT BETTER(A Gossip Girl Novel - 07)Cecily Von ZiegesarContentsEpigraph custom-speeches.com N's Bedroom Is.
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GOSSIP GIRL books :) PDF format:) yay!! happiness! custom-speeches.com /0jgdjuh73x. Jenny wove her way through the clusters of girls in pleated navy blue, gray, .. million-dollar book deal for the Scottish jockey who'd claimed to be Prince. In Cicely von Ziegesar's first novel in her Gossip Girl series, readers get a taste of what it's like to have everything you could even imagine- and more served to.
Rhys and Avery are dating behind Owens back. Everyone at the end of this book seemed happy and content and there wasn't much drama. I really hope they stay together. Who knows, it's you who needs to read it. Despite that they're dating, Avery doesn't truly know why Rhys is with Owen in the tropics.
I would like to see more happen with Baby. You kno It's Thanksgiving, and the Carlyle triplets are thankful to be escaping the New York City cold-they're jetting to the tropics and bringing all their friends along for the ride.
Avery spends the whole book "screeching" at one person or another, and comes off more Tracy Flick than Blair Waldorf. Just mindless fun, which I need every now and then. As if I haven't been complaining about this enough with the Private series, this book finds the group on vacation on yet another private island. I really liked this book, it had friendship, some characters grew up, some got married, and some missed a plane.
This book reminded me too much of the drama that surrounds the middle school hallways in which I work.
Love the One You're With by Cecily von Ziegesar As if I haven't been complaining about this enough with the Private series, this book finds the group on vacation on yet another private island. Or will the Ashleys actually go down?
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However, at least here the focus remains so much on who's hooking up and who's breaking up that we don't have to spend too long on all the details of being at a luxury resort. This means half the lesser characters aren't even in the book not that we can keep track of them anywayand we get introduced to some new ones who aren't exactly noteworthy the British girls are especially obnoxious.
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. Baby Carlyle has been stealing people's heart and playing around with it. There was a reason gossip girl the carlyles 4 love the one you're with pdf I picked up The Carlyles rather than the original one. En gossip girl the carlyles 4 love the one you're with pdf plus sur http: Espicelly since they left such a gaping hole in it.
And so does Owen-Jack. This was just bad. Only here, the battles are fought with icy glares and vicious rumors. Anyway, it was certainly no less enjoyable than the rest of the books I love the Gossip Girl books and the Carlyle spin- offs and I'm not going to say how old I am, but suffice to say I'm about twice the age of the target demographicand man. I'm interested to see what happens next, and hoping that they'll at least make an effort to save the Gossip Girl franchise, if not this particular iteration of it.
Overall, it was fun. She and stepsister Myla have a tenuous truce, at least at home-but with Jojo becoming more and more popular at Beverly Hills High, how long can the ceasefire last?
Jan 07, Beverly rated it liked it Shelves: What a really disappointing ending to a series! Owen and Jack has pretended to be dating to trick the world, but realizing that they did have feelings for each other, they started dating, officially.
The Carlyles, 4 3. Lists with This Book. Jan 23, Diana rated it liked it Shelves: Remove the custom ad blocker rule s and the page will load as expected. The series centers around the three Carlyle triplets and their friends: May 09, Angelia Fransisca Rusli rated it liked it Shelves: Oct 07, Virginia Mae rated it it was ok.
The series is starting to get less interesting and is becoming kind of repetitive. Pretty tame on the sexual front, packed with allusions to clothing brands, a mindless fantasy for girls who dream of living rich in NYC. They all needed a break and the Bahamas is just the right place to go, where the sun is always shining. Jul 21, Karen rated it it was ok.
IT was totally awesome. The triplets go to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving and hook up with their friends. We can't help it-we were born this way. Our story begins with three inseparable, completely gorgeous fifteen-year-olds, Serena van der Woodsen, Blair Waldorf, and Nate Archibald.
Blair's loved Nate and his glittering green eyes since she was in Bonpoint onesies. Too bad Nate wishes Blair's beautiful best friend, Serena, was the one with the crush. And Serena has a secret she's keeping from them both. Hmmm, something tells me these best friends may not be as close as we thought. How do I know all this? Because I know everything-and lucky for you, I can't keep a secret. So sit back while I untangle this messy little tale and tell you how it all began.
Admit it, you're already falling for me. S is back from boarding school, and if we aren't careful, she's going to win over our teachers, wear that dress we couldn't fit into, steal our boyfriends' hearts, and basically ruin our lives in a major way.
I'll be watching closely. But Blair's been too busy filling out Ivy League college applications to notice that Nate has found himself another playmate. Download HERE!
Blair's mom and Cyrus are having their honeymoon in Salt Key. And when school lets out for the holiday, Blair, Serena, Aaron, and company head down there to blow off steam after their midterm exams. Everyone jets back to NYC for Serena's New Year's party, during which Nate and Blair may or may not finally go all the way, and Serena may or may not be discovered to be the secret fling of Hollywood's hottest young leading man. Gossip Girl Because I'm Worth It Everyone who's anyone in New York City is suffering from post-college-application cabin fever and it's time to run a little wild Could it be that Serena is smitten with Blair's stepbrother or will the Fashion Week parties pull her away from any attempt at true love?
Dan and Vanessa are mad about each other and pursuing their creative dreams -- but be careful of what you wish for. Nate hits an all-time low as Blair's Yale interview with a tall, handsome alum takes an unexpected turn and Jenny makes a new friend who gets a little too close for comfort.
And just who is going to get into college early acceptance? Or is that a blend of Chanel no. Is there a difference? Blair moves in with Serena and they're back to being best friends. But will the love-fest last or will they end up tearing out one anothers newly highlighted hair? Was it really necessary to answer so many questions? All of a sudden she kind of wished she hadn't invited Jenny over. I might not even go.
I don't know," she mumbled, tossing the pillow on the floor next to her socks. Her flaxen hair fanned out around her perfectly chiseled face as she gazed skyward with her enormous blue eyes.
She looked so lovely, Jenny half expected a flock of white doves to flap out from underneath the bed. Serena grabbed the stereo remote from off her bedside table and clicked on the old Raves CD that she'd been listening to a lot lately. The CD had come out last summer and reminded her of a time when she was completely carefree. She hadn't been kicked out of boarding school yet. She hadn't thought about applying to college. She hadn't even started modeling yet.
Plus, she'd met a hunky Latin painter at Brown who was still totally in lobe with her. But what about Harvard, and that sensitive nearsighted tour guide who'd also fallen in love with her?
Or Yale and the Whiffenpoofs, who'd written a song for her? And there was alwaysPrinceton , which she hadn't even visited.
After all, it was the closest to the city. Model some, and maybe try acting. Like Claire Danes," Jenny suggested. Serena rolled off the bed and stood in front of the full length mirror that hung on the back of her closet door.
She'd rumpled her turquoise Marni peasant blouse, and her blue-and-white-seersucker Constance Billard uniform was hanging lopsidedly on her hips. That morning she'd been late as usual and had tripped running to school, losing her orange Miu Miu cork-heeled clogs and landing facedown on the sidewalk. Now the iridescent pink polish on the big toe of her left foot was chipped, and a purple-and-yellow bruise stood out on her right knee. Jenny wasn't sure how Serena could even stand to look at herself in a mirror every day without passing out in amazement at her own perfection.
That anyone as perfect as Serena could have issues was totally unfathomable. Tall and lanky, with the same pale blond hair, cut in a long shag framing his face, Erik was a male version of Serena.
Same huge dark blue eyes, same full mouth that turned up at the corners, same straight white teeth and aristocratic chin. In the picture he was standing on a rocky beach, tan and shirtless. Jenny squeezed her bare knees together.
Those chest muscles, that stomach, those arms- oh! If boarding school was filled with boys who were even half as gorgeous as Erik van der Woodsen, they could sign her up! Easy there, cow girl. Serena's pink iMac beeped, indicating that she'd just received an e-mail.
Serena went over to her antique letter-writing desk, jiggled her mouse, and clicked on the latest e-mail message. And if you do go toPrinceton , you have to become a Tri Delt. We already have all these amazing fundraising ideas for this year, including a Les Best fashion show to benefit the Wild Horses of Chincoteague, featuring us, the Tri Delts, as models! The best part is you won't even have to pledge. Congratulations, Serena, you're already a sister! All you have to do now is get your behind up toPrinceton a few days early this August so you can get a good room in our house.
We totally can't wait. Big kisses. Your sis, Sheri Serena read the message again and then logged off, staring at the blank screen in shock. Pushy sorority sisters were just about the last people she wanted to hear from, and anyway, wasn'tPrinceton supposed to be sort of intellectual?
She picked up the phone to call Blair and then slammed it down again, realizing she'd completely forgotten that Jenny was even there. Jenny was sweet and adorable and everything- but she didn't have, like, homework or a movie to go to or something?
See, even perfect goddesses have a bitchy side. Jenny slid off the bed and hitched up her extra wide supportive bra straps, guessing she was about to be dismissed. I can put you on the special guest list if you want to come. All she knew she was getting free because she was Dan's sister.
Dan thought he was so famous now that he was a member of a band with the number one album on the East Coast, but if she showed up to the gig with Serena- two gorgeous models out on the town in matching Les Best dresses- she'd completely out famous him. Serena wrinkled her nose.
She wanted to go to the Raves gig, she really did, but she and her parents had already RSVPed yes to some Yale prospective students' get-to-know-you party tomorrow night.
She couldn't exactly make her parents go by themselves.
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But I'll try to get down there if it finishes early. She'd envisioned making an entrance at theLower East Side club with Serena.
Never mind the Raves- they were rock stars, big deal. She and Serena were supermodels- at least Serena was. Heads were guaranteed to turn, Guess she'll have to satisfy herself with being the lead singer's little sister. Like that would ever be enough. A lame-voiced wimp in worn khaki-colored corduroys and maroon Gap T-shirt. Not exactly rock'n'roll. The problem was, his voice always broke when he went into the higher ranged, coming out in a breathy whisper, and his face looked soft and young and totally unthreatening.
Dan rubbed at his bony chin and thought about growing a goatee. Vanessa had always had a strong aversion to facial hair, but what she thought was no longer relevant since they were no longer a couple.
Almost two weeks ago at Vanessa's eighteenth birthday party at her apartment inWilliamsburg ,Brooklyn , Dan had been discovered by the megapopular indie band the Raves.
Or rather, his poems had been. Thinking they'd both go to NYU next year and live happily ever after, Dan had moved in with Vanessa only a few days before. Butt heir relationship had quickly deteriorated. More depressed than usual, Dan had been sitting in a corner during the party, chugging Grey Goose vodka straight out of the bottle.
Meanwhile, the Raves showed up at the party and their lead guitarist, Damian Polk, stumbled upon a stack of black notebooks filled with Dan's poetry. Damian and his band members had gone crazy over the poems, insisting they would work perfectly as lyrics. Their lead singer had just mysteriously quitrehab anyone? By then Dan was just piss drunk and thought the whole thing was totally hilarious.
Throwing himself into the task with drunken fervor, he'd stolen the show, electrifying drunken partiers with his brazen performance. He thought his was a one time deal, a way of distracting himself from the fact that he'd just broken up with the only girl who'd ever loved him. The next day he discovered he was card-carrying member of the band, and completely in over his head.
During rehearsals Dan found that his normally sober self was physically incapable of putting out the same reckless energy that he'd had at the party, and, compared to the other band members, who were all in their twenties and wore clothes tailor-made for them by avant-garde designers like Pisolcock and Better Than Naked, he felt like a geeky, squeaky little kid.
He'd even asked Damian Polk why in the hell the Raves wanted him to be their lead singer in the first place. Damian had replied simple, "It's all about the words, man. But maybe if he looked more like he could sing, he might actually convince people that he deserved to be in the band. Dan shuffled through his messy desk drawers searching for the battery-operated beard trimmer he'd bought last year during a week of experimenting with the length of his side-burns. He moved on to his little sister Jenny's room, and finally found it under her bed, inexplicably rolled up inside and old pink bath towel.
Little sister lesson number one: If you want to keep your shit, put a padlock on your door. Not bothering to return to his own room, he went over to the mirror on the back of Jenny's closet door and tugged at the outgrown Mr. Trendy Artiste haircut he'd gotten soon after he'd made his switch from bohemian poet to gritty rock star, it was time for a change.
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Doesn't everyone know not to try a new look the day before a big event? The trimmer buzzed to life and Dan began shaving the back of his neck, watching the light brown strands gather on the faded chocolate-colored carpet in mousy clumps. Then he stopped, worried all of a sudden that a beard trimmer didn't have exactly the right sort of blades the shave one's entire head with. It might leave weird red track marks all over his skull, or shave his head unevenly so that it looked like his hair had been eaten rather than cut.
Sure he wanted to look hard-core, but not chewed-head hard-core. He debated whether or not to continue. If he stopped now, the shaved parts could be completely concealed by the rest of his hair until he bent over, and then, voila- a shaved neck. It was kinda cool knowing the shaved part was there without being able to see it. Then again, an unnoticeable hair-cut wasn't exactly the look he was going for.
He put the beard trimmer down, propped a Camel between his lips, and reached for Jenny's phone. If there was one person who knew anything about shaving heads, it was Vanessa. She'd kept her own head shaved sine the ninth grade, and, shunning the expensive salons like Frederic Fekkai and Elizabeth Arden's Red Door that her coiffed classmates frequented, insisted on shaving it herself. Secretly he's always thought she looked prettier with a little more hair, but she obviously thought she looked great bald, he wasn't about to say anything.
She wanted to give Dan space to grow and blossom into the next Kurt Cobain or John Keats or whatever the fuck he weanted to be, but breaking up with her and kicking him out of her apartment hadn't been exactly been easy for her. The casual lets-be-friends tone in Dan's voice made her heart feel like a deflated balloon.
Then again, with her older sister Ruby gone on tour with her band, it would be kind of lonely and boring living all alone in the apartment, especially without him to keep her company.
For a fleeting moment Dan was so overcome with regret he felt like grabbing a pen and writing a tragic breakup poem using the words cut or shaved, but then his newly shorn neck began to burn and prickle, and he remembered why he'd called Vanessa in the first place. Is there like, a certain kind of razor you use? Like a certain blade? Look, I gotta go. It was from CVS and didn't have a blade size. Maybe he'd be better going to a barber. See you at my gig tomorrow night though, right?
Gotta go. He whipped off his t-shirt and struck out his pale, skinny gut, trying to look saucily bored and rebellious, like a shorter, thinner, less-fucked-up Jim Morrison. His dad, Rufus, suddenly appeared in the doorway, wearing a cigarette burned gray Old Navy sweatshirt and the pink terrycloth headband that Jenny used to keep her hair back hen she washed her face. She might not be too thrilled to find you stripping in her room," he commented.
He was a work-at-home single dad, the editor of lesser-known Beat poets and esoteric writers no one had ever heard of.
He held the beard trimmer away from his face as if worried that it might turn on by itself and buzz off his famously unkempt beard. He handed the trimmer. He tossed the trimmer on to Jenny's bed and pulled his shirt back on.
Rufus shrugged his shoulders. His dad was so gung-ho about the whole college thing, it was seriously annoying. Alone in his room, Dan found a rubber band in his desk drawer and tied his hair up into a stubbly ponytail, leaving the shaved part exposed. He picked up the beard trimmer again. He grimaced. There just wasn't ebough gristle in his voice to sound convincing. Trading the trimmer for the pile of college catalogs he'd been thumbing through for the past three months, he flopped don on his bed.
He flipped to a picture of a tweedy, intellectual-looking Brown student, his back propped against the trunk of agiant elm tree, scribbling away in a notebook like a young Keats. He looked exactly as Dan had envisioned he'd look himself next year- before he'd been discovered by the Raves and before he'd just shaved the back of his head.
He ran his finger over the shaved part of his head and glanced down at his outfit. He'd have to go shopping, because none of his clothes went with his hair anymore. And you thought that was something only girls worry about. If only Jenny were there to help out, Dan thought grimly.
But his little sister was too busy being a supermodel to go through his closet with him and tell him what was lame and what was acceptable. Dan picked up a cup of Folgers instant coffee that had been cooling on the floor since that morning and took a sip.
He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, and for an instant he could almost envision himself up on stage, giving the audience the same annoyed, pissed-off grimace.
Maybe, just maybe he could pull this off, without his sister's help. Or maybe not. Fireeater: duh, I'm a performer Hairlessskat: you really eat fire? Fireeater: I'm working on it. Mostly I dance with my snakes. Hairlessskat: snakes? Fireeater: yea I have four snakes Fireeater: you're okay with pets right? Fireeater: you still there? Fireeater: yo, hello? Even though the girl Vanessa was supposed to interview in three minutes had sounded cool in her e-mail that morning, she probably wouldn't be psyched if Vanessa greeted her at the door in her black cotton Hanes underwear.
Vanessa pulled a folded pair of pants off the top shelf in her bedroom closet without even looking. Everything in her closet was black, and she was a strong believer in shopping in duplicate. If you owned six pairs of straight-legged black stretchLevis , you never really had to think about what you were going to wear, and you only had to do laundry once a week.
She pulled the jeans up around her pale and slightly pudgy hips, yanked her black long-sleeved V-neck tee down over them and ran her hands over her shaved, dark head. She might have looked odd to all the so-called "normal" girls she went to school with, but the girl she was about to meet sounded more interesting than they could ever hope to be- well, at least she had online. The downstairs buzzer rang, just as she'd anticipated.
Vanessa went over to the window and pulled aside the curtain, which was really just a black poly-blend Martha Stewart Everyday bed sheet she and her sister Ruby had bought at K-mart last Halloween. On the street two floors below, a drunk homeless guy was shouting at empty parked cars. A little boy with green spiked hair and no shirt on sped down the sidewalk on a mountain bike that was way too big for him. The crumbling cement block that served as Vanessa's front stoop was empty.
The Prospective roommate was already on her way up. Normal girls, , like the girls in her class atConstance , wore pink lip gloss and different versions of the exact same pair of shoes and were religious about things like highlights and pedicures. In her e-mail application this girl Beverly had said she was an art student at Pratt, so she was older, for one thing, and was probably kind of alternative. Hopefully she'd be as cool as she sounded.
Vanessa opened the door to the apartment just asBeverly mounted the top of the stairs. And to Vanessa's complete surprise,Beverly wasn't a she, she was a he. Vanessa had sort of forgotten to specify that she was looking for a girl roommate in her web posting.
A deliberate mistake? Don't worry I'm used to it. She'd mastered the unexpressive stare long ago while eating alone day after day in theConstance Billard School cafeteria, turning out the senseless babble of her beautiful, bitchy classmates. She tucked her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans and nonchalantly led the way into the apartment "I was just IMing with this weirdo chick who dances with snakes. You don't have any snakes, do you? The walls were white and the wood floors were bare.
The only decorations were framed stills from the dark, morose films that Vanessa notoriously made in her spare time. Vanessa discovered she was staring atBeverly 's firm, round buttocks and quickly averted her eyes.
Vanessa loved that he didn't start babbling about how offbeat or depressing the were, the way people usually did. Just the way he said, "whose work?
Her fridge was uncharacteristically full of beer from her eighteenth-birthday party two weekends ago, and she'd take any opportunity to get rid of it. Ask any high-school boy if he wanted a beer and he'd down a whole six-pack in three seconds flat. AllBeverly needed was a little water to whet his palate, and a place to live- for instance, with her. Slow down, Nellie! What about the interview? Vanessa went into the tiny open kitchen and got out a vintage Scooby-Doo glass and some ice and a pitcher of filtered water from the refrigerator.
She filled the glass slowly, surreptitiously studyingBeverly as she did so. His small, intense eyes were pale blue, and his short, tousled hair was nearly black. The palms of his hands and his fingernails were stained black with some sort of ink he must have been using in his artwork, and his drab green t-shirt was flecked with what looked like sawdust.
His black pants were just the sort of loose black cotton poplin slacks she would have worn everyday if she were a guy, and on his feet were a pair of those thin orange rubber flip-flops you can buy at the drugstore for ninety-nine cents. He was so not like the people she went to school with, Vanessa couldn't help but feel kind of excited. Could that have anything to do with the fact that he's a guy? She walked around the counter and handedBeverly the water, already envisioning what it would be like to stay up late and watch movies together.
She could bring him water and he would nod his head at her in that thoughtful, sexy way of his. And then they would dissect Stanley Kubrick's work, film by film Vanessa took a seat on the futon sofa andBeverly sat down beside her. It can get pretty crazy there sometimes, though. She knew exactly how he felt. Of course, she'd never expected to share an apartment with a guy- other than Dan- but she was eighteen now, an adult, able to make her own decisions and mature enough to have a guy roommate and no intention of jumping his bones.
So he didn't want to live with her? Do stuff. Get to know each other. See if it could work out," he added. Vanessa sat on her hands feeling embarrassingly like one of those so-called normal girls she hated after some hottie had asked them to a prom or whatever they called those ridiculous dress-up parties they were always going to because it gave them the opportunity to buy a new dress.
Beverly did want to live with her. He just wanted to get to know her first. How refreshing and exciting to finally meet someone so intelligent, creative, cool- and hot! I mean, you're right. It's important to know who you're about to move in with.
Wow, he even cleans up after himself.
He flip-flopped back into the living room. What better way to show Dan that she'd moved on and had a life of her own beyond him and his selfish self than to bring a guy to his first gig? Want to go? He pressed his palms together and nodded his head in that sexy, monklike way of his.
I'll call you tomorrow to make a plan. Saturday mornings she and Beverly would sit by that window, making use of its southern exposure to make their art. He would work silently at his canvas, smearing black ink all over it with his hands while she filmed him. And both of them would be Of course. How exciting to live with an artist. Of course, Dan was a poet, but that was different. All he did was scribble in notebooks all day, drinking bad coffee and getting shakier and more neurotic by the hour.
Of course she would continue to interview other people- at least Instant Messenger- until everything was worked out.
But she was already pretty sure she'd found what she was looking for, the perfect mate. Doesn't she mean roommate? What are you guys doing? Eleanor Waldorf and Blair's stepbrother, Aaron Rose, were standing on the bed in Blair's makeshift bedroom, thumb tacking some sort of large map on the wall. Blair stood in the doorway with her arms folded, awaiting an explanation.
Eleanor was wearing a bizarre Versace outfit that had bad sample-sale purchase written all over it. The outfit consisted of an orange-and-black vertically striped halter top attached to green-and-black horizontally striped pedal-pushers by way of a mess of gold chains and buttons.
The petal-pushers even sported gold fringe. Why is it that the mom population is always drawn to designer's biggest mistakes? Not only was Eleanor's outfit ugly, but in another fit of postpartum depression she'd dome something dreadful to her hair. That morning it had been shoulder-length and blonde. Now it's dyed dark red and cropped close to her head, like Sharon Osbourne's.
Needless to say, it was sort of hard for Blair to look at her. Aaron pushed the last tack into the corner of the map and hopped down from the bed, his wannabe Rastafarian mini dreadlocks banging merrily against his hollow vegan cheeks.
After all his father and her mother had only been married since thanksgiving, so Eleanor was definitely not his mom and she was very definitely not his sister.
Despite the existence of her little brother Tyler, who was a boy, and Yale, who was only a baby, Blair had always identified herself as an only child, except for those rare occasions when she and Serena were getting along so well it felt like they were sisters. Eleanor scooted off the bed, grabbed Blair's hand, and dragged her over to the sage-colored wall to look at the map. It was a detail ofAustralia and the Pacific Ocean, and there were four red circles drawn around four pinpricks in the sea betweenVanuatu andFiji.
Underneath the circles, written in black ink in Eleanor's loopy cursive, were the names Yale, Tyler, Aaron, and Blair. Blair twisted her ruby ring around and around on her finger. Eleanor was still holding Blair's hand and she squeezed her daughter's fingers tightly with manic delight.Across Serena's lap lay a spread of the two girls dressed head to toe in Les Best couture, motoring down the beach in a dune buggy, the Ferris wheel atConey Island rising up behind them, all lit up.
On the TV screen behind her, "Baby" was trying to look innocent after spending all night having big sweaty sex with Patrick Swayze, the dance instructor at the summer resort where her family was vacationing.
Nate hadn't changed. TBA we're working on getting the chef who helped Julia Roberts lose all that weight after having her twins. Can you take a little heat? Is there a difference? Blair wrinkled her nose.