Beneath the expensive clothes, unplaceable accent, and cultured veneer, there’s something that never crawled all the way out of the swamp. It didn’t want to. It likes it there.
One must break with one’s past to embrace one’s future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, she thought with droll exasperation, this certainly explains a lot. It’s no wonder I haven’t been able to keep my hands off the blasted man since the day I met him. He’s an artifact! A Celtic one at that!
Evil is a completely different creature, Mac. Evil is bad that believes it’s good.
Sometimes I worry that there’s not enough room in my brain for both my dreams and reality that I’m a hard drive with limited gigabytes and one day I won’t be able to maintain the firewall between them. I wonder if that’s what senility is.
Caring is love. And love fights! Love doesn’t look for the path of least resistance.
I have studied humans for a small eternity. Intent infuses their every movement. Road maps to their inner navigation, plastered all over their skin. Born to be slaves.
When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn’t even bother trying. Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think she’s nuts. Nuts, I tell you.
He didn’t just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her.
Please tell me we don’t grow up and turn into the adults that drive us crazy.
A woman who’s lived in a cage all her life. And hates it. Bored in there, aren’t you. Waiting for life to happen. And when it finally does, it steals from you what you loved most. So take back. Explode. Lash out. Blow up.
The power of thought is far greater than most people ever realize.
Valhalla on the right. Paradise regained on the left. Stuck between a Godiva truffle and a chocolate eclair. Between a rock and a very hard place. Two very hard places from the looks of it.
I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn’t deserve white, and I was sick of black.
I love books, they’re in my blood.
Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.
Yes, I have loved, Ms. Lane, and although it’s none of your business, I have lost. Many things.
Gah, some chicks should be shot. Put out of everyone else’s reproduction pool.
Anyone worth knowing breaks once. Once. No shame, no foul if you survive it. You did.
Don’t celebrate yet, Ms. Lane. Don’t believe anything is dead until you’ve burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.