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— Maggie Stiefvater"Gansey threw open his door. Gripping the roof of the car, he slid himself out. Even that gesture, Ronan noted, was wild-Gansey, Gansey-on-fire. Like he pulled himself from the car because ordinary climbing out was too slow. This was going to be a night."
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There was something unbearably sexy about cars at night, Ronan thought. The way the fenders twisted the light and reflected the road, the way every driver became anonymous. The sight of them knocked his heartbeat askew.
— Maggie Stiefvater
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Except, now that I don’t have a car, I can’t really make good on my birthday promise.” Sydney thought about it for several moments. “Well. I’ve got a car.” An hour later, I vowed I’d never make fun of that Mazda again.
— Richelle Mead
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