A garden always has a point.
Excuse me, but I believe you have my lady,” one of them said in a quiet, deep voice that sent veritable chills down George’s spine. Harry.
Dear God. She ached, wanting something that she knew was a sin. Wanting a man who was sin itself.
I pretty much started out writing full time. I was an at-home mom and when my youngest entered kindergarten, I started writing. I was 35, and before that I really hadn't written at all. Which means, I guess, that a) it's never too late to start a writing career (or any career you really want) and b) it's OK to get to your mid-30s and still not know what you want to be when you grow up.
Will ye come with me?” he whispered. And she answered without hesitation. “Yes, please.
Much of life is a game. If played skillfully, with an intelligent and fascinating opponent, it can become almost a dance. One challenges and moves, the other teases and skips away, only to dart forward later and strike a telling blow.
Your cousin might be a pretty face, but you, my darling, courageous, maddening, seductive, mysterious, wonderful Diana, you are the Duchess of Wakefield. My duchess.
As for inspiration, I find stark fear of missing the deadline very inspiring.
Each time it was like a stray bit of glass pressed into the softness of her heart, grinding, grinding, oh so silently until she no longer noticed when she bled.
Shh,” he whispered. “You asked me if I loved you. I do. I love you more than life itself. Nothing matters in this world but that you live. Can you do that for me? Can you live?
But I intend to make you respectable.
I think I do pretty well with child characters. It's hard to write kids that are realistic, not annoying, and bring something to the story.
Do you think 'Duke' is a good name?' she asked. His face blanked for a second before it cleared. He glanced at the dog in consideration. 'I don't think so. He would outrank me.
But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.
He watched her retreat, his eyes lazy, and his body unmoving. A trickle of blood seeped slowly from the corner of his mouth. He let her get nearly out of the room before he spoke, “I may not have the right, Silence, me love,” he drawled so soft she nearly didn’t catch the words. “But I would’ve listened to ye. I would’ve believed ye.
I decided long ago that my family absolutely comes first, and I don't regret that. I do, however, sometimes wish I had an extra five hours or so in the day!
Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else.
She swallowed and looked down at the artichoke petals piled neatly on the side of her plate. Her center certainly felt like it was melting, growing soft and wet just from the rasp of Mr. O'Connor's voice. Why should a man already devilishly handsome also have a voice that could charm birds from the sky? It simply wasn't fair.
He grinned, though his face was strained. “That’s it, love. Use me to make yerself feel good.
You have to be very clear with yourself about how you're going to spend your time. When a child is at school or napping, you need to realize that this is your writing time and you don't spend it surfing the Internet or reading.
He grunted and stirred, withdrawing from her. She only had a moment to be disappointed and then he flipped her to her back and rose over her, powerful and male. He casually parted her legs with his knees and thrust into her again, hot and hard. She gasped at the swift invasion, the lovely feeling, and then his face was next to hers, his big palms cradling her cheeks. “What I want,” he drawled, “is ye. Nothin’ else.
Somehow she knew he would take a love affair very seriously indeed. Once that pinpoint focus was engaged, he would throw himself body and soul into the liaison. In the the woman he decided to take as a lover. A shiver ran through her at the thought. To be the object of such ferocious regard was an alluring prospect, but it also gave her pause.
Now, now," said Vale in a sickeningly sweet voice reminiscent of a nursery nanny. "I already gave him a drubbing for courting Emmie."Reynaud raised his eyebrows. "You did?""He did not," Hartley said even as Vale nodded happily. "I threw him down the stairs."Vale pursed his lips and looked skyward. "Not my recollection, but I can see how your memory of the event may've become hazy.
I would do violence for one glimpse of your naked breasts. Bleed for one taste of your nipple on my tongue. (Winter Makepeace)
Shhh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out. I cannot deny that I would've liked to have made babies with you. A little girl with your hair and eyes would've been the delight of my life. But it is you that I want primarily, not mythical children. I can survive the loss of something I've never had. I cannot survive losing you. (Winter Makepeace)
"As for inspiration, I find stark fear of missing the deadline very inspiring."
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