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I'd rather live a hard life of fact than a sweet life of lies.

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
Life
Lies
Sweet
Lying
Rather
Fact
Facts
Live
Hard

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I love re-creating myself. Change means you get to choose again. Become something new. -Dani
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Using your own time to make someone else’s life better is, like, the nicest thing you can do for anybody.
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He wasn't just masculine and sexual, he was carnal in a set-your-teeth-on-edge kind of way he was almost frightning.
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I've spent enough time behind a bar that I've formed a few opinions about what people wear and what it says about them. Guys who wear black from head to toe fall into two categories: they want to be trouble, or they are trouble.
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Barrons laughed again. And there, my dear Fio, you make one of Womankind's greatest mistakes: Falling in love with a man's potential. We so rarely share the same view of it, and even more rarely care to achieve it. Stop pining for the man you think I could be -- and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.
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You can’t look at someone with your eyes and take their measure. You have to look with the heart.
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Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.
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Its our actions that define us. What we choose. What we resist. What we're willing to die for.
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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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What are you? A man with a rope? Ha-ha.
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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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Oh, drop the act, Tinkerbell, and get rid of my problem. Then we’ll talk.
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He looked as if he'd stepped straight off the cover of one of those romance novels she ordered from Amazon.com so she didn't have to be embarassed by some supercilious male clerk in the bookstore.
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He had a come-and-get-me-baby-I'm-pure-trouble-and-you're-gonna-love-it kind of attitude.
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Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
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The entire time I'm burning in Hell, I'll regret each tear I made you weep. But if Hell were the price for twenty days with you, I'd condemn myself again and again. - Cian MacKeltar
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Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.
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Sheep are always looking for a new shepherd when the terrain gets rocky.
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Sometimes I worry that there’s not enough room in my brain for both my dreams and reality that I’m a hard drive with limited gigabytes and one day I won’t be able to maintain the firewall between them. I wonder if that’s what senility is.
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