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Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.

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
Cigarette
Settling
Failing
Needed
Men
Gwen
Desperately
Settle

More quotes by Karen Marie Moning

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He closes his hand around mine and I hold on. I like his hand. It's big and holds easy but sure. It's the kind of hold that says, I got you if you want me, but I'll let you go if you feel like running for a while.
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Dude, got eyes? I'm collecting evidence. [...] In Ziploc bags. I think they're Glad. They look impartial to me.
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The kind of person that thanks another person never survives. Have you learned nothing?
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Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?
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You and I more than anyone else in the universe are perfect for each other.
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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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See me when you look at me.
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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.
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Woman, you are a thousand kinds of fool.
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He is in my soul and i am in his, and we are in bed but we are in a desert, and i do not know where he begins and i end - Mac
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So how did he look at me? Like it was his birthday and you were the cake.
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It's so easy to lie. What’s even worse is how we cling to those lies. We beg for the illusion so we don’t have to face the truth, don’t have to feel alone.
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It's a sponge and I'm a sponge and for a second there all our sponge parts are one and I don't just have square pants, everything about me is squarish because I'm part of a wall.
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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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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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I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.
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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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Yesterday is skin on snake, to be shed many times.
Karen Marie Moning
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Time heals. No, it doesn't. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound's other face.
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He goes for stark versus accessorized, dark over bright, jewel tone instead of pastel, carnal over flirty.
Karen Marie Moning