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Being threatened seems to being out the worst in me.

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
Threatened
Worst
Seems

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Are you decent? a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. Nay, but we're clothed, Cian purred.
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The White Mansion isn't boring, lass. Never boring. It's the grand demesne the Unseelie King built for his concubine. It's a living, breathing love story, testament to the brightest passion that ever burned between our races. You can follow the scenes through if you've time enough and are willing to risk getting lost for a few centuries.
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He was on me before my brain processed the fact that he was coming for me.
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Hope is a critical thing. Whithout it, we are nothing. Hope shapes will. The will shapes the world.
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One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can't breathe around it and you realize you don't need air.
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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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If he were any other man, I might have suspected him of substance abuse, of being coked up or something. But Barrons was too much a purist for that his drugs were money, power, and control
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Those who were so long imprisoned in ice and darkness seem to find the sunlight jarring, painful. The longer I walk around with this grief inside me, the more I understand that. It’s as if sunshine is a slap in the face that says, Look, the world’s all bright and shiny! Too bad you’re not.
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Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?” “I do.” I squint at it, then him. “What are you paying me?” I angle. “Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.” I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor he’s shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.
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A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
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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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Dude, the bush is ready. Why you still beating around it?” “I’ve lived a long time, kid, and I’ve never heard anyone mutilate the English language quite like you.
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There are only shades of gray. Black and white are nothing more than lofty ideals in our minds, the standards by which we try to judge things, and map out our place in the world in relevance to them.
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As his other hand began to slip around her waist, his body brushed against hers, and there was no mistaking the thick, hard ridge grazing her jean-clad bottom. Heavens, did that thing never subside? The rest of him might be mortal, but his immortal erection certainly didn't scan to have gotten the memo.
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Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.
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I am a kite in a tornado, but I have a long string.
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I miss her. I don't know how to live without her. There is a hole inside me that nothing fills. If you don't find something to fill that hole, someone else will. And if someone else fills it, they own you. Forever. You'll never get yourself back.
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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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All I need is a badly mangled, irate sentence stalking me.
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I’m Pri-ya again. I always will be with this man.
Karen Marie Moning