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You, Ms. Lane, are a menace to others! A walking, talking catastrophe in pink!

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
Others
Lane
Lanes
Menace
Pink
Catastrophe
Walking
Talking

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Lies are horny little buggers, they breed like rabbits and bound around just as insanely and then you have to try to keep track of them.
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I lock eyes with my reflection and don’t look away. The day you look away you start to lose yourself. I’m never going to lose myself. You are what you are. Deal with it or change.
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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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You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head. You asked if I believe in God. I told you of course I do - I've always had a strong sense of self
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Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trails, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.
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In my experience, anybody besides your mom that feeds you is going to want something in exchange for it.
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As she lifted the glittering strand of diamonds from the box, a small slip of paper fell out. She caught it as it wafted toward the floor. Four words in ancient script, an arrogantly slanted scrawl. Accept these, accept me. Well, she thought, blinking, that was certainly direct and to the point. -Adam's note to Gabrielle
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Moth to a flame I follow.
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I like sex for breakfast, kid. I eat early and often.
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You can't save people from themselves. You can only try to wake them up.
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His coworker was velvety-skinned, a sexy boy-on-the-cusp-of man.
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Women have been repeating the same mistake since time began: falling for a man’s potential. We rarely see it the same way, and even more rarely care to achieve it.
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When he'd pushed inside me and I'd feel him begin to penetrate, it had turned me into a wild thing-hot, wet, and desperate for more of him. With every kiss, every caress, every thrust, I'd just needed more. He'd touched me, I went nuts. The world dwindled down to one thing: him.
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When do these three days expire? That's what pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague. The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.
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Life is not black and white. The closes we ever get to either of those colors is wearing them.
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One of the primary tenets of the course was that highly successful leaders kept journals, morning and night, in order to stay tightly focused on their goals.
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He wasn't handsome. That was too calm a word. He was intensely masculine. He was sexual. He attracted.
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Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.
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Being threatened seems to being out the worst in me.
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Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
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