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Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Karen Marie Moning

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Karen Marie Moning
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: November 1
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cincinnati
Ohio
Prophecy
Pessimism
Fulfilling
Lose
Loses
Self
Lane
Lanes

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We will K‘Vruck the world.
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You are what you are. Deal with it or change.
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Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.
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Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.
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Oh, please, I rolled my eyes, You're a leftie, Barrons. Touche, Ms. Lane, he murmured.
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Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.
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A little blood never bothers me.
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I wondered what one wore to visit a vampire. The chic red sweater set didn't go so well with my darker hair, and I was afraid it might be construed as a flirtatious invitation to color me bloodier.
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You and I more than anyone else in the universe are perfect for each other.
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He looked blank. “He’s the one who’s been doing the magic against us?” “Duh,” I said. “Doona be ‘duh’ing me, lass,” he growled, his burr thickening.
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Yesterday was a memory. Tomorrow was a hope. Today was another day to live and do one's best to love
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You never knew what you could get away with until you tried.
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Sometimes my dreams feel so real it's hard to believe they're just the subconscious's stroll across a whimsical map that has no true north.
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Life's a choice: you can live in black and white, or you can live in colour. I'll take every shade of the rainbow and the gazillion in between!
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I began to cry. Barrons looked horrified. Stop that immediately, Ms. Lane. I can't. I sniffeled into my cup pf cocoa so he couldn't see my face. Try harder! I gave a great sniff and shudder, and turned it off. I have not been her lover for...some time, he offered, watching me carefully. Oh, get over yourself!
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When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.
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Oh, drop the act, Tinkerbell, and get rid of my problem. Then we’ll talk.
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Are you decent? a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. Nay, but we're clothed, Cian purred.
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