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He doesn’t beat me,” I said irritably. “I’d kill him if he did.” “She would. She has a temper. Stubborn, too. But we’re working on that, aren’t we, Ms. Lane?
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
Doesn
Lanes
Would
Stubborn
Temper
Beat
Beats
Kill
Aren
Working
Lane
More quotes by Karen Marie Moning
I make a new discovery that totally blows dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.
Karen Marie Moning
Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.
Karen Marie Moning
Valhalla on the right. Paradise regained on the left. Stuck between a Godiva truffle and a chocolate eclair. Between a rock and a very hard place. Two very hard places from the looks of it.
Karen Marie Moning
Your race devotes itself to justifying its errors, not correcting them
Karen Marie Moning
Keep hoping to see the light in her eyes. Even knowing it'll mean she's saying good-bye.
Karen Marie Moning
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.
Karen Marie Moning
Get back on the bike and tell me where to go. I'll tell you where to go, I muttered sourly, and he laughed.
Karen Marie Moning
His heavy-lidded gaze reflected a languor that had nothing to do with having just awakened, and there was no doubt what was on his mind. But this is no safe cherry picker, Gwen thought, growing more concerned by the moment. This man looks like a cherry tree chopper-downer.
Karen Marie Moning
He wasn't just masculine and sexual, he was carnal in a set-your-teeth-on-edge kind of way he was almost frightning.
Karen Marie Moning
When he comes, he makes a noise deep in his throat that is so raw and animal and sexual that I think if he merely looked at me and made that noise, I might explode in an orgasm.
Karen Marie Moning
All I need is a badly mangled, irate sentence stalking me.
Karen Marie Moning
Barrons’ lips twitched. I’d almost made him smile. Barrons smiles about as often as the sun comes out in Dublin, and it has the same effect on me makes me feel warm and stupid.
Karen Marie Moning
I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing. He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced air, and turned his back to me. “Was that an invitation, Ms.Lane?” “If it was?” I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing? “I don’t do hypotheticals. Little girl.
Karen Marie Moning
Don't leave me, Rainbow Girl. Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was? It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucé's the night you told me to dress Goth? It's upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.
Karen Marie Moning
She's too young. Too innocent. Too human. For what I'm becoming.
Karen Marie Moning
I'd gazed into the abyss and the abyss had gazed back, just like Daddy always said it would: You want to know about life, Mac? It's simple. Keep watching rainbows, baby. Keep looking at the sky. You find what you look for. If you go hunting good in the world, you'll find it. If you go hunting evil . . . well, don't.
Karen Marie Moning
A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
Karen Marie Moning
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.
Karen Marie Moning
You mean you have to be epic already, for it to make you more epic?
Karen Marie Moning
And now she was just Gabby, currently staying in a dreamy, magnificent castle in Scotland with a Fae prince who did all kinds of non-nasty, non-inhuman things like tearing up lists of names, and returning tadpoles to lakes, and saving people's lives. Not to mention kissing with all the otherwordly splendor of a horny angel.
Karen Marie Moning
