The blonde teacher was staring at her.
Naturally white-blonde, she'd dyed it pink on a whim last weekend.
A lock of mousy blonde hair covered her left eye.
She left her hair down, brushing it until the long blonde curls shined.
She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing one blonde lock from her face.
Bianca looked fearfully at the pregnant blonde, whose blood already soaked her clothing, then at the waiting devil beside her.
"Are you here for me?" the blonde asked guardedly.
His trusted deputies --the slender blonde Iliana and the raven-haired gigantor Jade with cocoa skin --sat across from him.
Carmen glanced up to find a tall blonde standing beside their table.
Bianca stared, horrified, as the blonde dropped.
She willed her hair shorter and blonde once again, knowing he'd already read her mind and seen the reason why she changed her hair.
She was nearly as tall as he, a natural blonde or the customer of a very good beautician.
Deidre turned to see the blonde woman standing in front of an open wardrobe.
Perhaps it was the blonde hair in the comb.
Deidre flinched as the small blonde woman went down.
Bianca righted herself and carefully straightened the blonde, panicked by her pale features.
Jennifer Radisson, in spite of her height and eye catching blonde hair, was quickly lost in the happy crowd that clogged the sidewalks.
"You're saying she's allergic to us?" a skeptical blonde woman with striking blue-green eyes asked.
Dean had a feeling the woman was the tall blonde he'd seen leaving the courthouse behind Fred O'Connor.
The bombshell blonde always threw good dinner parties with fun themes; this theme had been Disco Night, complete with lava lamps, disco ball, tacky '70s music that still jammed out the open windows, and costumes for those who chose to wear them.
One of Fred's nameless cohorts buttonholed Dean as he stepped from his vehicle, and by the time he extricated himself from her verbal grasp, the blonde was lost in the crowd at the park.
He circled the small, blonde woman and stopped behind her, gaze on Gabriel's name, which was written across her back, along with the Immortal mating script.
She pushed blonde hair from her face.
Don't give this blonde the credit for thinking too deeply.
They were a handsome couple, the elegant woman's hair so fine and blonde it resembled white silk.
Her long blonde hair, unfastened now, cascaded about her shoulders.
"They're blonde," Edith said, sounding disappointed.
Claire was a peanut butter blonde, gone grey, tall and well dressed, all business and definitely in charge.
She was now a blonde, with her hair pinned high to the top of her head.
"The white dress, blonde hair and her trying to emulate Annie Quincy...it frightens me," Cynthia said with a shudder.
Fred joined them from his room across the hall, a startled look on his face as he first noted the blonde hair.
"Sounds like your coins are worth about three times what Claire's are," Dean said, and then asked, "how did you make out with the blonde bombshell?"
She reached up to unclasp her now-blonde hair, dropping it in a cascade about her shoulders.
The Annie of Dean's dreams had long blonde hair but kept her head turned from him as she wrote in her journal.
He woke with a start, to find Edith Shipton, with only her long blonde hair covering the body that was snuggling against him!
Her long blonde hair, unfastened, cascaded about her shoulders.
The woman, a buxom blonde about forty, Dean guessed, was clothed in a fashion magazine outfit, designed for après snow bunny activity, not actually doing anything in the great outdoors.
The retreating blonde woman's rope and crampons lay discarded at the edge of the path, the bag from their recent purchase crumpled nearby.
She had long blonde hair like spun silk, a perfectly proportioned figure and blue-green eyes that made you feel you were looking into the sea.
It was two years ago and one of my roommates yanked my long, golden blonde hair.
A small, petite, blonde girl with a big necklace around her neck.
The gorgeous blonde on the far side of the room?
"Second break-in today," said Jenny, a pretty blonde and the brightest in her recent graduating class.
"What kind of physical shape do you suppose Byrne is in?" asked Fred as he eyed a gorgeous blonde in scarlet bike pants.
She crossed to it and pushed it open, her attention falling to the slender blonde slung across Jonny's bed.
His complexion was dark for a blonde man, as if he spent a lot of time outside.
Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little blonde German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a broad bench in the front corner.
All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials.
Jauntily shifting the position of his legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor of perfume, and admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines of his legs in their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the blonde lady that he wished to run away with a certain lady here in Voronezh.
"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if wishing Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of his intention to elope with a blonde lady.
She appeared as he remembered her the day of her murder: a ten-year-old with long blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and golden skin.
Her eyes cracked open, and she was startled to see a petite blonde woman in dark jeans standing between them.
As if sensing the same, the blonde bowed her head in deferment without moving.
"I know," the blonde replied.
The blonde slid sunglasses in place, and as she strode to the awaiting Yukon idling in the driveway she threw a glance over her shoulder.
Startled, Bianca turned to face the doorway, recognizing the petite blonde woman who saved her from Dusty's bullet in Talon's garage.
The woman had Dusty's cold beauty, with feminine, chiseled features, long blonde hair and large blue eyes lined with silver.
She recognized the petite blonde, who wrenched open the door and ran.
Before the blonde could run, the devil snatched her.
The woman.s face was hidden behind a mass of blonde hair, but he recognized the hot pink fingernails instantly.
There stood a tall bleached blonde who, Jackson guessed to be in her mid-forties, but she appeared younger thanks to cosmetic surgery and Pilates.
The blonde purred, Well certainly.
They paused in the doorway of a large library, where a beautiful, petite blonde sat.