Special Aunt Quotes & Sayings

If she has her way ...

Willa Davis is wrangling puppies when Keane Winters stalks into her pet shop with frustration in his chocolate-brown eyes and a pink bedazzled cat carrier in his hand. He needs a kitty sitter, stat. But the last thing Willa needs is to rescue a guy who doesn't even remember her ...

He'll get nothing but coal in his stocking.

Saddled with his great-aunt's Feline from Hell, Keane is desperate to leave her in someone else's capable hands. But in spite of the fact that he's sure he's never seen the drop-dead-gorgeous pet shop owner before, she seems to be mad at him ...

Unless he tempers "naughty" with a special kind of nice ...

Willa can't deny that Keane's changed since high school: he's less arrogant, for one thing - but can she trust him not to break her heart again? It's time to throw a coin in the fountain, make a Christmas wish - and let the mistletoe do its work ... — Jill Shalvis

Culture is like the sum of special knowledge that accumulates in any large united family and is the common property of all its members. When we of the great Culture Family meet, we exchange reminiscences about Grandfather Homer, and that awful old Dr. Johnson, and Aunt Sappho, and poor Johnny Keats. — Aldous Huxley

My color schemes were limited to what would go with the pewter-gray gown ... except for the bridesmaids' gowns. I'd already decided that they were going to be a distinctly nonmatchy lemon yellow that Jolene's aunt Vonnie would have to special-order. The kind of yellow one would find on takeout menus or particularly urgent Post-it notes.
In fact, if the outdoor lighting failed, we could use the color of their dresses to illuminate the ceremony.
And yes, i had to use a vendor who hated me, because Vonnie held the only pattern left in the continental United States for the "Ruffle and Dreams," the very dress I'd had to wear in Jolene's wedding. Revenge would would be mine, for a few months, until i revealed the dove-gray bridesmaids' dresses i actually planned for them to wear. — Molly Harper

Aunt Zelda had written her note on special paper that she had made from pressed cabbage leaves. — Angie Sage

A very special case. A few years more, and that pretty creature who you love too much, I think, will, without ever loving them, have known as many men as there are beads on her aunt's rosary. No happy medium! Either a nun or a monster! God's bosom or sensual passions! It would, perhaps, be better to put her in a convent, since we put hysterical women in the Saltpetriere! She does not know vice, she invents it!
That was ten years ago before the day our story begins and ... Raoule was not a nun. — Rachilde

I need a special-shiny-greeny-stone. I have pressed that button many times, but nothing happens.
Button? Don't you mean 'big-red-flat-pressy-thing?
I most certainly do not. It is a button. I named it after my Aunt Button. — Neil Gaiman

So Uncle Stuart is marrying that lady? Mom says she's going to be our aunt Amy. She's okay except she would't try any peanut butter M&M chocolate chip fudge cookies. They were good- you ate five, remember? But she said she was on a special diet, and couldn't eat something called carbs. We told her we didn't put any carbs in our cookies, just M&Ms, but she said M&Ms were carbs.
Uncle Mitch, what's carbs?
email to Uncle Mitch from Haily and Brittany — Meg Cabot

My aunt grows special rhubarb in dark sheds. They keep it dark and warm all winter and harvest it by candlelight and it's the best stuff. She sells it for a fortune, btw. — Sophie Kinsella

Sometimes when Rose was reading, she would catch a whiff of the musty smell of her book. She put her nose down in the fold and inhaled deeply so that wonderful smell, the smell of adventure in faraway lands, would fill her up. She rubbed her hand across the pages to feel the velvety surface of the paper. When she closed her eyes, her fingertips could even feel the words that were printed there, each letter raised just a little, almost like the special language that her blind aunt Mary could read.
To Rose, a book was as real and alive as if it breathed and walked and spoke. — Roger Lea MacBride