“Readers want white knuckles.”
“It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride.”
“You've been reading Gordan's book again, haven't you?""It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride," she mumbled.”
“Sometimes, our fates are no longer ours to decide, and we can only grip our fists until our knuckles turn white and hang on for the rest of the ride.”
“Good,” Simon said. “If you want to know why, it’s because you smell like blood.” “It’s my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury.” Jace raised his left hand. It was a glove of white bandages, stained across the knuckles where blood had seeped through.”
“Face flushed, I shook my head and stared at my white-knuckled grip on the bed. Of all my pet peeves, condescending adults were probably at the top of the list.”