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No, you've got it all wrong, John. Reading his emotions, she shook her head. You're not half the male you could be because of what was done to you. You're twice what anyone else is because you survived.
J.R. Ward
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J.R. Ward
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But looking at this closet, so nice and arranged with their crazy lives at rest among these carefully placed clothes and footwear, she felt good about where they were. Normal was not a bad things in this lunatic world it really was. No matter how it happened to be defined.
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Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else. Oh, right...orgasms.
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And bottom line, without John by her side, everything seemed to be just a big, resounding meh.
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When he frowned again, she was fairly sure that the nomenclature did not please him, and she found herself wishing she had been birthed to other syllables.
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Times have changed and so have heroes and heroines, but the core of what makes readers happy has remained the same: Does the material touch you, resonant with you, stick with you? Do you feel yourself in the pages, see yourself walking in another person's shoes, hear the voices as they speak? Are you in love with the way they are in love?
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I would hold you up. I will ever hold you up and hold you dear, lover mine.
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I can't... I find that I can't concentrate. On anything. I can't really... Rhage's eyes drifted to Zsadist. How do you live with it? All the anger. The pain. The...
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Sorry to bother you,” Bella said over the wailing. “But she wants her daddy.
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God, I miss you, he said in a voice that cracked. Every night. Every day.
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