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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave No one who's been into music ever really stops being into it. It's in your soul forever. Maybe it gets buried deep under piles of shit for a while, but it's always there, waiting to make you happy again. - Quote by Ophelia London

No one who’s been into music ever really stops being into it. It’s in your soul forever. Maybe it gets buried deep under piles of shit for a while, but it’s always there, waiting to make you happy again.

Ophelia London
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Much to her dismay, he was even better looking up close. The kind of sexy that made panties fly on stage. The kind of sexy that made her want to say, “Screw you!” to her twenty-four more man-less days.
Ophelia London
If I kissed her now, one of two things would happen. We’d either get naked right here on the beach and probably get arrested, or I’d somehow manage to get us up the hill to my house, and then we’d get naked. But kissing her once, then letting her go. That…wasn’t possible. I couldn’t kiss her then go back to my ordinary life. I wasn’t Superman. If I was, though, the girl in my arms was more lethal to me than kryptonite.
Ophelia London
When he began to play again, then sing those first few words, Aimee felt a flutter in her stomach she wasn’t able to squelch. She wasn’t a robot, after all. And it wasn’t so bizarre to get a little fluttery over a boy as talented and hot as Miles Carlisle. Millions of girls suffered the same ailment. But how many girls stood backstage, close enough that he’d accidentally felt her up in the dark? And how many of those girls had already had their heart broken by him?
Ophelia London
The way he said it, with a twinkle in his already too-twinkly blue eyes, made Aimee feel twinkly, too.
Ophelia London
Miles jogged off, leaving her alone in the large and quiet room. Aimee stood still, waiting for her mind and heart to go back to normal, return to how she felt a week ago before seeing Miles again.But they didn’t. Or wouldn’t. She put both hands over her pounding heart, exhaled, and sank into a chair. Nut-burgers. Now what?
Ophelia London
She ran her hand over the dash.“You’re petting my car,” Hunter said, turning the key. “I usually charge for that.
Ophelia London
Slow-slow-quick-quick-slow went her heart.“Damn, I love the tango,” he whispered, tickling her ear.
Ophelia London
And you do know I’m the one who decides who I date”—she glared at Sam—“not you. If I want to drag this guy into the janitor’s closet and have my way with him, that’s none of your business.”“Drag me into a closet?” Hunter asked, his eyebrows up near his hairline. “Offer to buy me dinner first, then I’m all yours.
Ophelia London
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