She was not sorry. And if it was the wine telling her that, then she would tell the wine the same thing tomorrow. She was not sorry.
Mary Jo Putney is a gifted writer with an intuitive understanding of what makes romances work. I loved Silk and Shadows, couldn’t put it down, and don’t think readers will, either.
Readers understand that the books celebrate female power. In the romance novel, the woman always wins. With courage, intelligence and gentleness she brings the most dangerous creature on the earth, the human male, to his knees.
It’s like you have a plan and someone comes along and makes you want to change it all, but you still like your first plan, no matter how fantastic the second one makes you feel.
This isn’t romance. This isn’t a declaration of love or affirmation of friendship. This is something more.
She was like a heroine in a novel that she herself was writing the character kept protesting that she was too strong for love and yet the narrator went on describing her desire.
It is no wonder lesbians love women.
The best romance is inside marriage; the finest love stories come after the wedding, not before.
Romance is all about making a story out of our love.
There’s a romance to danger. There’s a romance to drinking, to drugs, to petty crime and to heartbreak and loneliness. All of those things can be used to make the STORY of our lives better.
Great. I’d been dumped in Hell’s waiting room.
It’s about time! It’s supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.
The most temptation I’d experienced had been with Tomas, the Senate’s spy who had been feeding off me without permission, and Mircea, who was probably plotting some nefarious scheme. I have no taste in men.
One song bled into another and they remained locked together, neither willing to break the intimacy that surrounded them, concealing them in the small space the two occupied.
Once, he hadn’t been able to touch her without causing himself pain. Now, it only hurt when he didn’t touch her.
Missing you is worse than Pittsburgh.
Any mature, spiritually sensitive view of marriage must be built on the foundation of mature love rather than romanticism. But this immediately casts us into a countercultural pursuit.
I generally find subtlety a waste of time.
She flew into his arms. Held on tight as he swung her off her feet and hugged her so hard it hurt. She didn’t care. She didn’t want him to ever let go.
Silly of me not to have realized it. One often finds Greek temples lurking in the woods of English estates. Sneaky things, temples.