I'd always hated any kind of peanut butter candy. Peanut butter, in my opinion, belonged in sandwiches and nowhere else.

He stood and looked at me for a moment, taking in my outfit. "You look hot."
"What? Me?" I stammered, completely flummoxed.
"Yeah," he said, still looking at me.
"Oh. Um, thank you. I mean, not that you don’t, but I’m not sure that you should—I mean …"
"Oh, no," Roger said quickly, and I could see that he was blushing again. "No. I mean—I meant what you’re wearing. Are you going to be too warm?

I know,' I said, thinking about the trip my mother had wanted me to take, and the trip we'd ended up taking, and how much better ours had been.

Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore"
"You did not just say that

Werewolves and Arabians. It's like chocolate and peanut butter - a delicious combination.

He told me that if you yelled out "JAMBA!" at full volume, all the employees would yell back "JUICE!" He lied.