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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.

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
Vague
Precise
Nerves
Days
Annoyingly
Three
Pisses
Expire
Nerve
Threatening

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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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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?
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Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it's those hours that make us what we are.
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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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I see God in a sunrise, not in repetitious ritual.
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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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We're taking back the night
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My heart has jet lag.
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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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The kiss....was not meant to seduce, it was meant to mark a woman's soul. Chloe
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When my faith is getting weak And I feel like giving in You breathe into me again.
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Oh ye of little faith. Not for IYD... But you didn't even try.
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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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I can smell you, Ms. Lane, he said, even more softly. The only blood on you is from your veins, not your womb. My head whipped to the left and I stared at him. Ok, that was one of the more disturbing things he'd ever said to me.
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It's a strange new world out there and the rules have changed: It's every princess for herself.
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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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Last night you said you wanted to know what to expect so you could better select your attire. I told you we were going to visit a vampire in a Goth-den tonight. Why, then, Ms. Lane, do you look like a perky rainbow?
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You're not falling for me, are you, Irish? -Adam to Gabrielle
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Lust is a thing of the blood. Doesn't need head or heart.
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... You have me in your mouth, you don't get anybody else. Or you don't get me. - Jericho Barrons
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