Life equaled love plus passion squared. Loving and being passionate about what one did was what made life so precious.
I hope when I'm ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.
Mom raised us to believe that every lie puts something out there in the world that's inevitably going to come back and bite you in the petunia.
As his other hand began to slip around her waist, his body brushed against hers, and there was no mistaking the thick, hard ridge grazing her jean-clad bottom. Heavens, did that thing never subside? The rest of him might be mortal, but his immortal erection certainly didn't scan to have gotten the memo.
She understood now why her friend Elizabeth, with her near-genius, analytical mind gave wide berth to murder mysteries, psychological thrillers, and horror stories, and read only romance novels. Because, by God, when a woman picked up one of those steamy books, she had a firm guarantee that there would be a Happily-Ever-After. That though the world outside those covers could bring such sorrow and disappointment and loneliness, between those covers, the world was a splendid place to be.
There’s no point in fighting the tide. It ebbs. It flows. You ride it.
Woman, you are a thousand kinds of fool.
He kissed like no man she'd ever known. There was something about him, a rawness, an earthy sensuality that bordered on barbaric, something she'd never be able to explain to someone else. A woman had to be kissed by Dageus MacKeltar to fully understand how devastating it was. How it could bring a woman to her knees.
I couldn’t move. It’s something I’m still ashamed of. You always wonder how you’ll handle a moment of crisis; if you’ve got what it takes to fight or if you’ve just been deluding yourself all along that somewhere deep inside you there’s steel beneath the magnolia. Now I knew the truth. There wasn’t. I was all petals and pollen. Good for attracting the procreators who could ensure the survival of our species, but not a survivor myself. I was Barbie after all.
What have you stuffed in your pants, MacKeltar?" she demanded. "Nothing that wasn't God-given," he replied stiffly. Gwen stared. "There's no way that's part of you. You must have gotten a sock or something stuck. Oh, my." She pried her gaze from his groin.
Suddenly so many things she'd overheard her brothers and Quinn saying when Grimm had been in residence made sense, and upon reflection she suspected a part of her had always known. Her love was a legendary warrior who had grown to despise himself, cut off from his roots. But now that he was home and given the time to explore those roots, he might be able to make peace with himself at long last.
Propping the mirror against the wall near the door, he waved a hand at it and clipped, "Drustan: Cian MacKeltar. Cian: Drustan MacKeltar." "Dageus," Drustan's voice was soft as velvet, never a good sign, "why are you introducing me to a mirror?
Daddy looked at her hard, and right before my eyes, he changed. I watched him inflate again, shake off his own emotions and puff himself up for her. Become her man. Her rock. I smiled. I loved him so much. He'd dragged mom kicking and screaming from grief once before and I knew I could rest easy that he would never let grief steal her from him again. No matter what happened to me.
If you already know the answer, Ms. Lane, don’t waste my time. You just wasted a month of it.” -Barrons
Sometimes my dreams feel so real it's hard to believe they're just the subconscious's stroll across a whimsical map that has no true north.
I’m Pri-ya again. I always will be with this man.
He'd made her feel what Barrons made me feel. Bigger than I could possibly be, larger than life, on fire with possibilities, ecstatic to be breathing, impatient for the next moment together. She'd been happy in those last months, so alive and happy.
My world we humans we’re just pawns on an immortal chessboard.
Moth to a flame I follow.
He was on me before my brain processed the fact that he was coming for me.
... You have me in your mouth, you don't get anybody else. Or you don't get me." - Jericho Barrons
We are not perfect. What god is Examine yours. According to your mythos he was so disappointed with his initial efforts creating your race that he tried again. At least we imprisoned our mistakes. Your god permits his to roam free. At a mere few thousand years old your creation myths are far more absurd than ours.
He knows what I'm thinking. Always. We're connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.
For the record, Irish," he informed her tightly, just in case she got the wrong idea, "I kneel to no one.
Women have been repeating the same mistake since time began: falling for a man’s potential. We rarely see it the same way, and even more rarely care to achieve it.
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