leprechauns

I realized that I sat in an empty bar in filthy, wet clothes with a drippy nose, probably red-rimmed eyes, and the most I could say I__ accomplished was that I was now congested. Oh, and one of the handsomest, nicest men I__ ever met cradled my face in warm, caressing hands with soft, sympathy in his brown eyes.

How would we get corporate sponsorship if we were just a bunch of thugs?

That was one tiny trailer when both girls wanted to watch TV or use the computer or the bathroom at the same time.

I love the man,_ Megan said as she took a seat, __ut honestly he needs to learn when not to agree with me.

The older lady smiled a friendly welcome that rivaled her preserves for sweet appeal. She could have been someone__ grandmother complete with close-cropped white hair if she wasn__ wearing a worn Grateful Dead T-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal. The 1987 Summer Tour.

You could have agreed to disagree,_ Megan argued. __hen you could kiss and make up. That could be fun.

It was easy to imagine he__ just rolled out of bed and then it was easy to imagine him in bed and I wasn__ going there.

I am always a perfect gentleman. If you ever want me to not be a perfect gentlemen, you__l have to ask and not be crying when you do.

That__ not Eire. Everyone always thinks that, but we__e not shamrocks and wee men. You should know the difference.

Leprechauns are not twee beings dreamed up by the tourist board, but warriors of legend. That name comes from the Celtic god of commerce and war, Lugh. Their mission, their life__ work, is to protect the gold. What better way to hide it than to become a joke, a story nobody takes seriously?

Rainbows would never spring from a crock full of credit cards or computer printouts.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the hottest bitch of all?

Me father always said if ya can find a lass who's brilliant in the kitchen and in the bed ya best not let her go.

You might be a fairy tale leprechaun man but at the heart of it you're still a man who won't talk about anything.

Tis the unexpected that makes life interesting.

If you want to mimic spoons in a drawer, I promise I won't think anythin' of it." She realized that curling the same way they'd fit much better. She sighed. "Okay, but I get to be the big spoon. I don't want to accidentally bump into your..." "Knife?" he supplied.

I wish the Irish had never invented whiskey," Pat said. Mr. O'Malley smirked, "The Irish didn't invent it. God did. It was his way of keepin' the Irish from takin' over the world.

She tipped back her glass and finished it. "Ah, lass. You drink like you're Irish already." She smirked. "I am Irish already. Always have been.