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Neighbor… was that the word for whoring tramp nowadays?

Gena Showalter

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Gena Showalter
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Oklahoma
United States
Tramps
Nowadays
Neighbor
Word
Whoring
Tramp

More quotes by Gena Showalter

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Cole chuckled, saying, “Fear of spiders is arachnophobia, and fear of tight spaces is claustrophobia, but fear of Ali Bell is just called logic.
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Yep, that's me. I know. I know. You're humbled I'm here, feel like throwing rose petals at my feet, blah, blah, blah. No need, though. Just try and think of me as a normal guy -William
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Words without action mean nothing. I’ll show you.
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He bit the inside of his cheek, Death purring wildy. The pleasure of her touch, even one so innocent, rocked him to the core.
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Replies began arriving seconds after he pressed send, and soon every single one of the warriors (besides William) had agreed to come home. Take me out of your address book, William
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Sighing, she shut the book with a snap. “All right. You need to vent, so I’ll listen to you vent. But do it quickly, because Rydstorm was about to plunder Sabine with his thick, hard—
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And at one point (cough) walking into a chicks knife (cough), he'd finally won. 'I'm king of the world, bitches. Come in here and bask in my glory.' His voice echoed through the foyer, expectant eager. -Strider
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I’m not trying to—What do teenagers say nowadays?” he asked my grandmother.“Get all up in her biznez,” Nana said.Without cracking a smile.“That’s right,” he replied. “We’re not trying to get all up in your biznez, Ali.
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You keep running and one day when you stop running your going to fall, and I'm going to be there to catch you.
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That's because I'm made of awesome. And dipped in awesome. And sprinkled with awesome. Gods, I love the taste of awesome.
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You wanted to drown in a woman. Here's your chance. Drown in her blood ~Violence(Maddox)
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To you I belong.My heart beats only for you.No other will tempt me,from this day and beyond.To you I belong.
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Blood spurted from his nose. Okay, I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.
Gena Showalter
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Any tips for winning?” she’d asked. “Yeah. Do what you gotta do to survive.” “That’s it? Wow. You suck at pep talks.
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The golden rays of the moon paid him absolute tribute. He was a buffet of muscles and corded strength.
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My ex—may he soon discover tiny worms have invaded his body and are slowly eating him alive—once told me God made men so perfect because He'd wanted to make up for the inadequacies of women.
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I looked around, counting the competition. Sixteen. To win, all I had to do was incapacitate each one, place my hand over their hearts and turn my palm into a flame. Easy. Yeah right.
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Hope is a demon worse than your Pain.
Gena Showalter
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As teenagers, Marcus had been the muscle and Jake the brains. Marcus had beat up the kids who'd made fun of skinny Jake Jake had convinced teachers not to punish him. Since then, Marcus had grown a brain (kind of) and Jake had developed muscles. But habits die hard.
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Being with a man incapable of telling a lie – a whole lot of awesome. Being with a man who could taste when you lied – sucked the big one.
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