More Sentence Examples
Flying cars, faster cars, more features in cars, we all get that.
Think no more about it, he said.
Alex had been hiding more than a father.
Do you have more requests?
No one could have been more private than Josh.
That's more like it.
She felt that Jim would know more about the Saw-Horse later on.
He had indicated enough times that he would like to see her in something a little more feminine and fashionable.
She'd start feeling more comfortable with the room.
He looked even more distinguished than usual in his Spanish garb.
AdvertisementMaybe she has someone more suitable in mind.
The teacher answered, "I know of no man who is more honored than yourself."
In cold weather we eat more, in warm less.
It crossed her mind that Alex might be more than uncomfortable in these surroundings.
Alex sat up and leaned over her, speaking softy in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
AdvertisementWe are quite solid inside our bodies, and have no need to eat, any more than does a potato.
A year passed by and then the merchant appeared once more before Al Mansour.
Maybe he felt more comfortable thinking of it that way.
More important - would he stay?
But a lot more complicated for the other two, maybe.
AdvertisementYou could cover more area that way.
The deeper the feeling, the more he attempted to cover it.
Yeah, I think it's more like a miniature rodeo.
More like Dulce has been talking to me.
The fact that they were expecting two babies instead of one made it more of a challenge.
AdvertisementHe had a family to support - and two more children on the way.
Martha shook her head, as if looking for more.
With nothing more to do, she wandered in to watch him shave.
We'll know more about her recovery tomorrow.
No matter what happened, he would always be more than a fond memory - maybe a first love.
There's more than one but how many?
Once a little fish swam too near the surface, and the kitten grabbed it in her mouth and ate it up as quick as a wink; but Dorothy cautioned her to be careful what she ate in this valley of enchantments, and no more fishes were careless enough to swim within reach.
They advanced in a great swarm, having been joined by many more of their kind, and they flew straight over Jim's head to where the others were standing.
Several stories of empty rooms rewarded their search, but nothing more; so after a time they came back to the platform again.
So let us cease this talk of skull crushing and converse upon more pleasant subjects.
The school was more than a mile from their home, and the children trotted along as fast as their short legs could carry them.
Then, in eighteen more months, it will double again.
Today, that is vastly more true and widespread.
The voice and words belonged to Josh, and yet he had been dead for more than two years.
What could he do about it but lose more sleep?
Now it seemed more like a vacation.
I guess the only thing he wanted more than that was a good woman and children.
She squeezed him once more and then released him.
Nothing more was said about the tear session.
It was so much more fun when she left it all up to him.
From now on she'd have a lot more respect for the art of romancing.
He said he wouldn't offer her any money until he had more facts.
It was intended to encourage her, but it was more a distraction.
Natalie needed little encouragement - or maybe it was because Carmen was a little more relaxed and experienced.
Howard was a good ten years older and had far more important things on his mind – like his new position as partner at the law firm.
Food was more a distraction than a desire.
He shook the newspaper and said nothing more until Sarah announced that supper was ready.
A horse and rider could cover more distance in a day that the mules could pulling the heavy freight wagons.
He pretended he needed time to make a few more phone calls but I could see he was disappointed by the delay.
As he had once said, he was a man of his word and he made no more advances.
More importantly, what would he say when she returned?
More important, why hadn't Connie responded to her letter?
We'll have to do this more often.
Maybe Yancey would be more careful in the future about using the threat of bears as a method of keeping Lisa away from that building.
It's our home and you're more than a sitter or maid to all of us.
Have you discovered anything more about him yet?
It sounded more like something a woman would think of.
It was a soft kiss, not demanding but more inquisitive.
The encounter had frightened him more than he would admit.
He was dead on when he said she was more afraid of her emotions than him.
Maybe he had more information he didn't want to give over the phone with Yancey listening.
So I've finally found something you're afraid of more than me.
More likely it stemmed from the fact that she had not gone to the house yet.
It was several more minutes before she was able to take deep breaths – even longer before she was able to utter more than a strangled sound.
His kiss was more than friendly.
Now she wanted it more than life itself.
The building she had spent more than a month trying to get into and now was the site of an open house.
The three of them walked abreast along a narrow road consisting of no more than two bare strips of dirt in the grass.
Lisa seemed to fear him more than she did Giddon.
Each case I handle gives me that much more experience.
There was no denying that Brandon was a private person - or that he had confided in her more than Rachel or Julia.
It can't be any more dangerous than driving around in Tulsa.
And burn more calories.
It was something more unsettling than friendship.
She couldn't have been more awake before she left the house.
Did he suspect that she was beginning to feel more for him than simple friendship?
He deserved more than the sympathetic ear she had been lending him lately.
Her erotic dreams were proof that he was becoming more than a friend to her, and that thought was troubling - both from the standpoint of her goals, and the fact that she was setting herself up for rejection.
The minute he detected something more than a platonic relationship, it was going to be good-by friendship.
It was beautiful in winter, but it would be much more so when the trees gained color.
Following a long drive that consisted of little more than two ruts worn by vehicle tires, they came to the Marsh ranch.
Several more men entered the library, all staring at her in nothing short of total surprise.
He brought three more bags while she spread the woodchips around the monument.
Puzzled, she concentrated on two more sources of magic.
Yully let the power fill her and mix with the other energies, staving off panic that there was much more than she could ever control.
Darian didn't remember it any more than he remembered much of the thousands of years he spend enslaved by Jonny's predecessor.
If not for Yully's fading energy, Jule would've stayed to make sure Damian's version of chat resembled his and not Dusty's, who was more likely to shoot first and discuss later.
Xander seemed like nothing more than a bored guest.
There was more to Xander than Damian could pinpoint.
Twist your hip more when you hit with the left.
A few more punches, and she grew too uncomfortable with him to continue.
After her conversation with Xander, she couldn't help wondering if there was something more that made Darian seek her out or made her willing to humor him.
She lacked Jake's golden tongue, and her bluntness had gotten her in trouble more than once.
Nothing more, she told herself.
She fled, staggering as she bumped into more people and more visions flashed.
Of the two, Dusty was more likely to call him to the floor when he crossed into his business.
The quarterly conference held four times a century with the highest ranking station commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched.
Damian mulled his words, waiting for more.
There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable.
Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from when she'd fallen after fainting the night before.
Or more than one, Dusty typed.
You've got more than one rat to worry about.
When someone gives me some more definitive info on her, I'll tell you.
By his tone, something was more wrong than the horrible costume.
He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.
Seeing him well rested and well dressed pissed her off even more.
Damian felt the unusual urge to look in on her again, to feel her soft skin against him once more and make sure she was safe.
To maintain our operations, three more.
What's the impact if we have to burn more?
In fact, she did see him in those positions, and in many more.
She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small and vulnerable once more.
He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them.
Sofia retreated to her room, not wanting to fight more with Jake.
His visions were more than just his death; they were the first-person experience of the torturing and killing of many, many others, as if she were mutilating others.
He led her down the stairs into a basement that looked more like a dungeon.
The more noise you make, the worse I make it for you.
He ducked into a doorway while Damian shot two more vamps and reappeared, the blueprints on the screen.
She cried until she was too tired to cry more and drifted into a vision, reliving the few moments she spent with Jilian.
She closed her eyes, more of his home videos playing through her mind.
She rubbed her temples and issued a challenging glare to the contents of the pantry, furious once more she could eat none of the wonderful things it held.
He sliced his forearm and tucked the knife beneath his pillow once more, closing his eyes.
His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind.
You're more welcome in my bed than she is!
She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more.
So once more, Sofia had tried to eat.
The last thing I need is to complicate things more.
There was one person she wanted to know more about.
Something more than Dusty killing bad guys was upsetting her.
Damian caught his eye and looked pointedly at Dusty, silently asking if the Guardian had done as he asked and told his boss that the Natural was more than a new recruit.
I need more people, boss, or a Traveler at least.
We had three in the last class, more than we've seen in a few hundred years.
He cared for Claire, or at least, he was attracted to her, and she didn't know if there was more than what she knew about them.
A few of the guests cast curious looks her way, and everyone who looked at her seemed more interested in the plain charm at her chest than in meeting her gaze.
Dusty was a stickler for formality from his men, while Jule's hemisphere was far more relaxed.
The other two were too occupied by whatever happened to do more than glance at the newcomer.
So she stayed put and hugged herself more tightly.
His gaze was stormy, but there was more there, a profound sadness that made the large man more human.
She didn't want to see more death.
She's in the early stages of pregnancy, no more than eight weeks.
Sofia asked with more emotion than she intended.
His gaze was wary and moving, and he was guarded once more.
While she couldn't shake the sense of doom that followed her from the visions, she felt more normal, less afraid, at the thought that she'd be rejoining the rest of humanity for a shopping trip with the girls, even if only for a morning.
He wasn't like Dustin, who seemed more likely to kill a stranger than talk to one.
She ached to touch him but refused, hugging herself more tightly instead.
I'm not wasting any more of my time in there.
Linda was too easygoing to be affected by much of anything, and the men seemed more surprised than anything else.
Are there more of us?
She felt more compelled to him now than ever before.
He offered his wrist, and she knew he was offering much more.
She was more grateful to him in that moment than she'd ever been.
She didn't know if he'd welcome the gift or if his recent ordeal left him more jaded toward his past.
In a few minutes, they were strolling through the mall once more.
He was the kind of man she wouldn't think twice about running from, though the intelligence gleaming in his soulful brown eyes gave him away as something more.
She wasn't sure what she could do to be more boring.
He said no more, and she lost the nerve to pursue.
He trusted Sofia to either of the two men before him and knew Dusty was the more likely of the two to shoot first and ask questions later if she was threatened.
Damian dropped to the floor with a roar, his eyes blurring as more fire and liquid tore through him.
The adobe structure was guarded by several more Guardians, none of whom looked like Damian from the distance.
Renewed by the blood, more sobs wracked her body as she thought of Damian and how badly she'd destroyed any plan Dustin or Jule could make.
Every step he took brought more memories of people and places he felt to his core he knew – but couldn't recognize.
They passed through two more doors before exiting into a cold desert night on the side of a mountain, overlooking the activity at the elevator's entrance.
A dark shape moved from the rocks while three more fanned out from the sides.
Pierre grimaced and rose more slowly.
Two armored Tahoes sat out front with an additional two more well-armed Guardians.
Just when he'd thought Sofia couldn't surprise him more, she did.
He was more and more appalled by the memories afflicting his brother, what he'd gone through since his supposed death.
Darian was showing more signs of life.
Damian's feelings for her swelled even more.
He wore nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans.
She reached a stairwell and descended to a floor with wider, taller corridors, as if she'd gone from the wing with private chambers to a more public area.
Her first deal was made more out of emotion than anything else.
There was no way she was going to learn more.
Something jarred her, a flash of magic, one that made her more nauseous than what she saw happen next.
Was what she felt for Gabriel nothing more than destiny and Immortal laws she knew nothing about?
His nose bore the appearance of having been broken and set incorrectly more than once.
His fangs were long, his eyes burning with more than hunger.
A few more days, and even I wouldn't have been able to undo what Wynn did.
Instinctively, she flattened her palm against his chest once more to feel his heartbeat.
The pain faded once more, and the experience became too dreamlike to be real.
She pulled more of him into her, trying to identify the elusive flavor that left her intoxicated.
Gabriel had been, and she was furious at herself for not taking him more seriously and for choosing to accept Darkyn's deal instead of taking a chance with Gabriel.
The scars the Dark One created when he turned her Immortal were more faded today than yesterday.
She sensed more than saw the largest difference within her.
Deidre closed the door, near tears once more.
She had to make it only a few more days.
He was amused at whatever game he played as he closed the distance between them once more.
He reached for her once more, and she slapped his hand away.
He nudged her head once more.
Deidre took his face in her hands, hungrily trying to taste more of him as she explored his mouth with fervor.
His chilling smile did nothing to make his statement more tolerable.
More tears squeezed from her eyes.
I love a fight and an absolute victory even more, he replied.
She shook her head, emotions stirring one more.
She wanted to slap him, more because he was making it obvious how right Darkyn was.
It's more of a cluttered box than a web.
Yours is more so.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see Darkyn standing where she left him, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with the cold smile that told her there was more going on than she suspected.
The bond creates more than dependency; it gives you a helluva lot of influence over him.
She started to shake, unable to bear the idea of more children dying or living with the creature behind it.
There will be no more attacks on human schools.
She pushed his chin aside with more force and kissed his neck before closing her eyes and letting her fangs sink into him.
The humans mean more to you than they do to me.
He sounded pleased once more.
The demon lord gripped her more tightly and wrapped her in his arms.
Darkyn himself had shown some signs of being affected by her, perhaps not as much as she liked, but more than she ever expected.
The footsteps were soft, but it sounded like more than one person.
Unless more than Harmony had betrayed Gabriel.
She could summon Darkyn, though she feared his reaction to her leaving more than what these people would do to her.
Gabriel asked, looking at her once more.
He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her, more interested in feeding.
Darkyn drank more from her than before, leaving her lightheaded.
He sat, his warmth surrounding her once more.
If he was half as creative at torturing people and planning his battles as he was in bed, he was more than capable of doing it.
He leaned forward to kiss her once more, his fangs fully extended.
He hesitated once more but took it.
Selyn's squawked once more and pointed.
The Dark One is the most powerful, and he grows more so, as the population of the worlds increase.
More words leapt from the page.
She feared seeing them happy again, knowing she really was nothing more than a disposable stand-in until they were able to be together again.
Hearing it out loud only made her more confused.
There's more to the story than what you know.
I saw how you were created from a seventeen-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than for your mistress to love you.
No more men like Wynn killing me slowly.
It's more than fear.
He crossed his arms, wary once more.
One might argue that manipulating the Future and unfettered access to the present provides more than enough influence.
The strange calm she felt around Zamon remained, and she recalled more clearly Darkyn's words about how the original Dark One lured in his prey.
There were days when she wished she was more like him, capable of great evil.
I can't imagine the impact of both on him when one is more than enough.
Deidre kept her thoughts to herself, growing more distressed with the visit.
Past-Death waited for her to say more.
But I see more.
When he said no more, she smiled slightly.
Her hope had been crushed in every other way – except that it stirred once more at the idea there was more to him than she knew.
Though she doubted he was capable of emotions like she was, he was capable of more than he claimed, too.
We are not capable of more, he added.
I know there was more to why she sought me out but I don't understand what.
The light of the black fire was too dim for her to see much more than the outline of his form.
This time, there was more than insatiable lust and need in his kiss.
Deidre felt tears on her cheeks once more.
As much as it didn't make sense, as much as his day job terrified her … She wanted Darkyn, more so now that she knew he had a side – however tiny – that was capable of caring for her and only her.
Maybe because it made her stay here feel more permanent.
Selyn nodded once more.
Deidre gripped Selyn's arm more tightly, fear spiraling through her.
The response was more of a grunt.
The growl low in her chest sounded more like a rattle.
All I see is rock and more rock.
She called out, louder and more frantically this time, her voice echoing against the rock.
The sixty days came and went but Janet never returned, leaving jail, a few more bad checks, and Colorado for parts unknown.
Martha, whose stay with them was at first a simple good deed, then a delight and now so very much more.
David and Cynthia Dean had experienced little success in trying to secure a more formal arrangement for long term custody of Martha, managing only undocumented assignment as temporary foster parents.
She deserves more—much more, and I truly believe we could provide it.
What's more, none seemed bent on murder, a decided improvement over some of Bird Song's earlier guests!
People did things differently—spanking was more acceptable then, but now we know hitting causes anger and rebellion.
The pair spent the balance of the morning emptying the washing machine and dryer, only to fill them with never-ending loads, while in between clearing dishes, brewing more coffee, and playing the jovial innkeepers.
He bit into more pastry.
Dean grabbed the near-empty plate, salvaging the few remaining morsels while Pumpkin was searching for more empty pockets to fill as he rose to leave.
Just drive more slowly until August.
It would cost more than seven dollars to have them dry cleaned and pressed.
She acts more sorry for the woman, or exasperated, than afraid of her.
But if there's more on your mind, maybe it's something we can help you with.
But the brief exercise failed to dispel the glumness for more than a few moments.
You've got more time on your hands than an unemployed whaler.
It's more than that.
Dean held his wife closely, expecting more tears, but they didn't come.
They knew there was little more they could do or say to console the lonely child.
Even the usually bored Dawkinses ooh-ed and aah-ed appropriately but the brothers seemed more interested in the locale of the various shots than the scenery and flora so beautifully presented.
I tried to make a photographer out of my godson Billy, but I'm afraid at his age there are a lot more interesting things to do, and they all have female names.
It seems more like days than hours.
Fred displayed a tad more interest in the mysterious find than the prior evening.
Randy continued to talk, more rapidly than necessary, mentioning a small wedding.
Dean could do little more than put his arm around her.
Dean was feeling more comfortable that Cynthia just needed time to get her priorities in line.
Ridgway, a few more miles away from the backdrop of mountains, provided a spectacular view.
Cynthia didn't ask him to join her and he was more than happy to remain rocking a groove in the front porch decking.
Silly David Dean for thinking more time might be needed to put all these pesky details to rest.
Shouldn't we do more about the campaign?
But I'm glad you seem more comfortable about running for office.
I've chased more bad guys running Bird Song bed and breakfast than when I was a Parkside, Pennsylvania police detective.
Even the cat looked up, more from the cessation of her patting than Dean's expletive.
He'd traveled that road before, more than once.
He was a handsome kid who somehow reminded Dean of Cynthia's son, Randy, but more brash.
The chitchat roamed from details of Friday's luncheon to views on crime and punishment, which, as the booze went down, became more and more general.
I figured this county deserves a more astute sheriff than the current candidate, so I tossed my hat in the ring this morning.
The Deans and Fred were torn between discussing Fitzgerald's blockbuster announcement and this conversation, which was becoming more interesting by the minute.
It certainly does nothing to make the skeleton look more realistic.
I'm not sure why, but I do feel more comfortable.
I know I should be upset that Fitzgerald is running against you but I know his being in the race makes you want to run all the more.
At least we're taking some action, and we're doing it together—that makes me feel more secure.
The couple was hoping to get on the road ahead of one or more of the feuding Dawkinses, who might be moseying to the same destination.
However, they needed more supplies—additional batteries, a second flashlight, and marking chalk—all to be purchased at the variety store, which didn't open until eight o'clock.
The others, when not lingering over coffee, were peeking in the kitchen for more pastries.
To Dean, the tunnel was even more claustrophobic as he hunched forward, taking baby steps like a second grade schoolyard game.
Two more turns were negotiated and marked and in spite of their slow progress, according to the map they were nearing their goal.
They stood there, hearts even more accelerated, pounding in unison.
The passageway continued beyond where Martha had ventured and the Deans continued another hundred yards but once more the passageway forked.
They moved more quickly, retracing their steps toward the entrance.
When their breath returned to a more normal cadence and they were no longer perspiring, they rose to leave.
Maybe, but he strikes me as a more direct type—not someone who'd pull off a stunt like that.
More than enough, but once we reach the main Jeep road we're sure to see someone.
While Dean discounted hooligans as the source of his vandalism, he was more than happy to accept Brandon Westlake's timely rescue.
Westlake twisted around the seat once more and after a struggle pulled out an old step pump.
After receiving their thanks, he took off at a jog, anxious, he said, to catch a few more post-storm shots as the sun emerged.
No other vehicles were encountered—the storm apparently frightened away the more faint-at-heart tourists.
The two drinks and lack of a third caused him to be more direct than normal politeness would dictate.
It looks like a hole in the ground that hasn't been touched in thirty years or more.
Dean resolved to try once more in the morning to get word to her.
A phone call excused him from hearing more of the robust bragging.
As long as he was on a roll, albeit a limited one, Dean had one more errand.
There were several more trunks in evidence.
Once you've got the bug, you'd no more pass up a good bargain than a cold beer on a hot day.
He asked, just to toss a little more chum in the water, "What happened to your mother?"
Joseph was ready to end the conversation but Dean was hoping for more fish in his creel.
Or, more intriguingly, perhaps one of the auction's bargain foot lockers contained the remains of the actual skeleton!
In addition to the five we bought, there were five or six—maybe seven more.
In the eyes of the Deans, it was looking more and more as if person or persons unknown did in fact take the original bones and switch them for the theatrical imitations Fitzgerald dragged out of The Lucky Pup mine.
The Deans found themselves alone on the front porch, with only Mrs. Lincoln for company, as Fred was off to the library for more research.
The question of who was responsible for Josh-the-skeleton coming to his untimely demise was even more obscure.
Yes, Dean thought, unless someone decides to get more serious about stopping us.
I kicked in more coins to our marriage than Paul ever did.
She seemed more genuinely shocked than irate.
Dean was more than just surprised by her request.
The entire town wouldn't have been more excited if the New Year's Rose Parade had come to little Ouray.
While the walk was less than a half-mile, Ouray's 7,800-foot elevation and the uphill rise caused Dean to quicken his breathing—one more reminder to get in shape.
There's more on the back seat.
I'm overwhelmed—couldn't have asked for more.
But the fact that some present-day person was trying to stop them from finding any answers somehow made the mystery more intriguing.
Besides, Dean thought, Randy—single or married—probably has more sense than to get knocked on his ass by a zillion pounds of water pressure aimed at his body.
The closer they drew, the more intense the pressure, and the more unstable they became.
The couple changed into shorts and boots, more satisfactory attire for their mountain drive with Jennifer Radisson.
More importantly, Dean now realized that the only real evidence that the remains from the mine were human had disappeared.
No, I think it's more.
Jennifer began snapping her small camera at the first vista until she realized she'd used more than half the roll.
The road continued to climb at a seemingly impossible grade, more rugged now with jagged rocks littering the uneven way.
The group left the Jeep and spent more than an hour on foot with Cynthia taking infinite care with each of her photos.
Jennifer, forced to husband her limited shots, took more time with hers as well.
The escape was less than stealthy, and it was impossible to tell if there was more than one pair of feet.
After they were settled in the vehicle and on their way back to town, Jennifer Radisson brought up the more mundane subjects of the mine and her litigation.
Jennifer said nothing more for the remainder of the trip down the mountain until the Jeep finally rolled onto pavement and they entered the still busy town.
When the phone rang for the fourth time, Dean assumed it was either a call for reservations or more discussion on the upcoming New Jersey wedding plans, but Cynthia held the phone against herself and called to her husband.
It will be light for a couple more hours at least.
Once is more than enough.
Darkness moved in quickly now, and he knew he'd soon need help and more light than a simple flashlight to locate a wreck, if in fact a vehicle had plunged to the valley floor, a hundred or more feet below.
Dean's lack of proficiency at mountain climbing left him to make do instead of utilizing a more effective and safer method of descent.
His sole venture at the end of a rope was the prior winter in Ouray's ice climbing park, under even more tenuous circumstances.
After the first several feet, the angle of the slope dropped more sharply and he was forced to move to his left to avoid falling.
Above them, the headlights of the two vehicles grew more distant, finally hidden from view by their angle of descent.
He felt more than saw her shake her head no.
They had crawled past it by no more than fifty feet.
She looked once more at Dean, turned, and began hobbling down the road to her car.
Dean muttered an agreement as he began to open Dawkins's bureau drawers, more out of a nosy nervousness than anything sinister.
Even more disconcerting, while Dean knew a small number of those present, he didn't spot a one of Fred's supportive cronies.
What do you gentlemen see as some of the more important challenges to the incoming sheriff?
Our young people need education and more organized activities.
There was more movement in the back of the room as Fred O'Connor entered, followed by a contingent of his followers.
Did you do any more checking on Ed and Edith Plotke— the people from the 1961 newspaper—and missing Josh the miner?
There's more to this you're not telling us, isn't there?
A scream—not the blood-curdling variety, more a high-pitched screech—from upstairs broke his reverie.
It seems to me it's looking more likely they're not even involved in Martha's bones.
The bike was a trophy from a time when Dean's budget contained more expendable income.
Back on the pavement, Dean pedaled past Tom, a well-known wild turkey who'd in past months adopted a location on the highway from which he never seemed to stray more than a few hundred yards.
There were more hippies in Telluride back then.
While the Deans discussed contacting the state once more, both agreed another phone call would be as fruitless as earlier ones.
For ten bucks more, she was to cover Ridgway's four hundred citizens in the county's only other town, if you didn't count minuscule Colona, which most people didn't.
The day had arrived with more bumps and grinds than a burlesque matron.
Dean laughed at first at his wife's suggestion, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea had a ring of validity to it.
Paul Dawkins was only a smidgen more pleasant than his elder brother as Dean, lugging the heavy monitor, passed him entering the parlor.
A number of Bird Song's more recent guests were bickering over differing rules to Mexican Train Dominoes in the dining room while others were trading Boardwalk and Park Place in the parlor.
The Deans couldn't hear the conversation but assumed it was one more lady in waiting for the senior Prince Charming's favor.
It sounds more like information on Fitzgerald.
She wasn't satisfied and waited for more.
He just wished his stepfather would be more forthcoming about the nature of his concern so he'd know how to help.
Dean couldn't agree more.
One more inconsistency Dean didn't need.
If anything, the news was more upsetting to Cynthia.
A nosy bartender told me Ginger was expecting something a bit more lasting than her attorney had to offer.
I knew a lot more information that might help you.
Paul was about to fire him, and perhaps more.
Dean could imagine the more as Jennifer continued.
Dean wondered if there was another, more sinister reason for Paul Dawkins' silence on the subject—that he was the murderer of his wife's natural father.
They were more than enough.
If Patsy had a destination in mind more specific than Chicago, she didn't share this knowledge with her hitchhiking passenger.
Wherever she is, I'd be more comfortable if she were in police hands.
We have no more idea whose bones Martha found than when we started.
When he told Fred of Jennifer Radisson's revelation concerning Josh Mulligan, his stepfather's response was far more animated.
He called Lydia's name but it was several minutes before he heard steps, and more time before the door was opened.
She was no more than a silhouette in the pale light.
A couple more slugs of this stuff and I'll be fine.
If you drink any more of that stuff, you'll pass out and maybe bleed to death inside.
Once more she laughed.
If something even more untoward than what the scene implied had actually occurred last evening, Dean would find himself squeezed between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
Dean was more than pleased to hear his old friend's voice.
He changed the subject before Dean could ask more.
There's a lot more to this business.
You folks at Bird Song can get into more pickles than any group I know.
Then he added, on a more serious note, "I'll give you a hand if I can, but nothing official."
Dean was surprised, but made a note to seek out Pumpkin, and talk about more than the rent.
The more Dean thought about it, the more it made sense.
Pumpkin and some of Billy's friends thought there might be more to the young man's death than reported.
Cynthia talked him out of it until more was learned of Fitzgerald's present whereabouts.
She talked about a friend in Chicago but gas was costing lots more than we thought and she was getting real tired from driving.
Dean's feelings were mixed about Pumpkin's visit but on the plus side, there were a few more bucks in Bird Song's bank account.
You ain't running unopposed no more.
Martha bounced around, thrilled to be back in the routine, and joined Fred in passing out more campaign literature.
Later, he and Martha were to visit the library for more digging into the earlier disappearances now that the date of Martha's bones was better known.
Finally, after lunch, Dean telephoned Jake Weller, first to report on Martha's wellbeing and in hopes of learning more about Fitzgerald's whereabouts.
She was more nervous than he'd ever seen her.
The Lucky Strike tin is a common one, but some containers sell for a whole lot more than that.
The bullet had caught him full in the chest, driving him backward into the scooped out grotto where his uncle had lain for more than half a century.
There's nothing more to do.
When pressed, they opined only that Brandon Westlake acted more suicidal than threatening but they had been with him for several minutes where Lydia had just arrived.
More than a week passed before the subject of Brandon Westlake was discussed in any detail.
Seeing the bet, he decided he wanted to stick around long enough to observe a few more events in the women's futures.
If I am to become her, I need to know more.
His own interactions with deities left him more than willing to shun them, if at all possible.
She hesitated, as if waiting for him to say more.
Sasha had a side that was far more depraved than that of any of Wynn's other sons.
If you cause more damage, Darkyn said in a soft, lethal voice.
His own survival was more important.
It was going to be much more pleasurable than she imagined.
More food items lined the shelves of both.
As someone accustomed to being in control of her world, she needed a little more time before she was ready to face him.
She shook off the strange feeling and followed once more.
Deidre stayed for a moment then decided to leave, more interested in exploring the world than waiting long enough to see what happened.
They were more alike than Deidre realized; they both sought out Darkyn for quiet deals they hoped would result in ending up with Gabriel.
This made her hurt more.
The instinct was nothing more than a tiny warmth at the edge of his mind.
He was able to sense her presence once more without knowing she'd been gone from his reach for an entire night.
Rather than taking souls and risking a run-in with him or his dealers, the demons snatched the dead or killed whomever they wanted and brought them here, where they'd have more time for soul extraction.
Yeah. No word yet on whether or not there are more.
We went to the other side of the country to find her more funnel cakes.
Whatever happened, there had to be more to the story than what Deidre told him.
Amused, he dropped the sweater into the bag, grabbed a few more and a pair jeans.
He loved touching her and loved even more watching her try to figure out what to do about it.
They'll have more for you at the fortress.
What did you do, Gabriel? she demanded at last, the fire flaring in her eyes once more.
Deidre's face flamed red once more.
Tymkyn waited for more.
More importantly, the underworld accepted his appointment.
Gabriel rose, furious once more, and began to pace.
She tasted sweet and saucy, like the woman herself, her heat, scent and silky skin filling his senses in a way that left him wanting more of her.
What could be more important than being able to spend eternity with her?
The more he tried to accept the idea, the harder it became to swallow.
It takes more than a week, he said with some amusement.
How many more die before we stop him?
Figured out three more.
He started to sketch something, paused then leaned forward with more interest and continued.
He liked that idea more than he thought he should.
Gabriel waited for more.
Keep in mind there's more to the story than what there appears to be, Andre added.
I've said more than I feel comfortable saying.
I want it to be more, but that might take time, if we ever get there.
There was more that he wasn't saying, and she suspected he was protecting her from the truth.
He began to think more and more that raising Andre was worth breaking the thousands of Immortal Laws it cost.
The crushing emotions from yesterday were more tolerable today.
I need more shoes and I can't call a portal.
With no magic, she had to be more careful when dealing with him.
The human side of her hated his tone and the truth of his words more.
Human Deidre was probably terrified, a bloody mess who would do whatever Darkyn told her at the end of the week in exchange for him sparing her more pain.
She moved once more to the edge of the lake and stared at the souls.
More gems swirled in the lake, seemingly at random.
She felt it again, a sense that this should mean more than it did.
Deidre saw more than interest in them.
The longer he thought, the more he realized his frustration had nothing to do with his duties as Death.
Gabriel could move forward, try to win over the woman who seemed much more interested in him than she had a few days ago, before her deal with the Dark One.
There's a lot more, isn't there?
Every time he didn't find it where it should be, he grew more homesick.
They were all suffering; the more he dwelled on it, the worse it seemed.
He liked trying to get a rise out of her, and he really did want to know where they stood in her mind and whether or not he had to worry about her running off to make more deals with Darkyn.
Building their relationship would mean easing into intimacy once more.
The human feared a relationship with someone who wouldn't share more than his body.
She yielded, fitting against him in a way that made him more possessive of her petite frame and fiery spirit.
I want you more than anything.
Their first afternoon of love was more than she ever thought possible.
It was far more important than the bet with the human, but Deidre couldn't help thinking about her deal and Darkyn's threat to reveal everything to Gabriel.
If Gabriel didn't fall in love with Deidre in three days, he would be betrayed once more.
Once more, Gabriel was right.
Any pain she caused was going to be short lived and quickly fixed, when she revealed herself to Gabriel once more and told him they could be together.
And she did, clearly enough that she felt the pain of her heart aching once more.
The sense of unease rose again, this time more strongly.
Perhaps you should look more closely.
Andre was the only one who seemed to think there was a reason for Gabriel to be here, and Gabriel trusted Andre more than both Deidres and Darkyn combined.
There was more to the story of their deals.
Standing before the Dark One, he grew more unsettled.
He stripped off his shirt and flung it then tossed all his weapons in a pile at his feet before seating himself once more.
Uncertain he could handle more bad news, Gabriel trailed.
The human thought herself unwanted, except by Darkyn, who had done more to help her than Gabriel thought possible.
The firm assertion of Darkyn's mate that she bore no one ill-will made more sense when he understood why she said it.
Tell him the truth hurt more than she thought.
The news of their deal had infuriated Gabriel once more and driven him off, leading Deidre to believe that he had loved the human more than her.
Deidre waited for her to say more.
The Dark One's mate appeared uncertain once more.
It was less an instinct and more of an absence of something.
With the tear between worlds, he was able to use more of the power normally restricted to Hell.
At the same time, he couldn't jeopardize the underworld more.