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Jericho. Mac. Thank you for saving my life. Again.

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
Jericho
Macs
Saving
Thank
Life

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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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A lamb in a city of wolves.
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Then you will simply have to see for yourself. Touch me, lass. Feel my ...sock. His silver gaze sizzled with challenge, as he unzipped his zipper. Uh-uh. She shook her head for added emphasis. Then find me a pair of trews that doona threaten to sever my manparts.
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I'm sorry your pretty little world got all screwed up, but everybody's does, and you go on. It's how you go on that defines you.
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And then what? Said, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Lane, I didn't mean to wrinkle your lovely blouse. May I press that for you?' Or perhaps you gouged it with one of your pretty pink nails? I was really beginning to wonder what his hang-up with pink was, but I didn't resent the sarcasm in his voice.
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This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I would have chosen. You must know that. It's important you know that.
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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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One day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without, and find that breath is of little consequence.
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The power of thought is far greater than most people ever realize.
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Mac: It's not the sidhe-seers. He stopped and went very still. JZB: Who is it? Mac: The MacKeltars. He was silent a long moment. Then he began to laugh, softly. JZB: Well played, Ms. Lane. Mac: I had a good teacher. JZB: The best. Hop on one foot, Ms. Lane. Mac and Barrons
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Beautiful women rarely possess sufficient depth of character to survive without their pretty feathers.
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Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?
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Do you think a woman can give a man everything while still withholding her heart? We are not made that way! - Fiona
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people were just out of control! . . . They've all got cell phones stuck to their ears and yet I've never seen such distance between people trying so hard to be close.
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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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Your race devotes itself to justifying its errors, not correcting them
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Words are easy lies as simple as parting your lips and breathing.
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Tuatha De do not walk the human realm alone. Actually, they don't walk alone much anywhere. Only the occasional rogue Fae will do so. Like yourself? Yes Most of my kind have no fondness for solitude. Those who walk alone are not to be trusted. Really, she said dryly. Except for me, he amended, with a faint, insouciant grin.
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You might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesn’t work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.
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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!
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