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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.

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
Around
Hold
Feel
Says
Feels
Hand
Kind
Sure
Like
Bigs
Closes
Easy
Holds
Running
Mines
Hands
Mine

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The power of thought is far greater than most people ever realize.
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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.
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I am going to love you now, slow and sweet.
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Tuatha De do not walk the human realm alone. Actually, they don't walk alone much anywhere. Only the occasional rogue Fae will do so. Like yourself? Yes Most of my kind have no fondness for solitude. Those who walk alone are not to be trusted. Really, she said dryly. Except for me, he amended, with a faint, insouciant grin.
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Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.
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Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
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Barrons had just given me the most carnal, sexually charged hungry look I'd ever seen in my life, and I was pretty sure he didn't even know he had done it.
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I'm a bartender. I like recipes. They're concretes. Was the drink recipe for seduction one shot charm and two shots self-deception, shaken, not stirred?
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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.
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A lamb in a city of wolves.
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Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.
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I have studied humans for a small eternity. Intent infuses their every movement. Road maps to their inner navigation, plastered all over their skin. Born to be slaves.
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Like a horse, honey, somebody's gonna break you.' 'Never. Going. To. Happen.
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I'm sorry your pretty little world got all screwed up, but everybody's does, and you go on. It's how you go on that defines you.
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The inspector ate only two of my tiny sandwiches: the first because he hadnt expected it to taste so awful the second, I think, because hed thought surely the first must have been a mistake.
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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 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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His coworker was velvety-skinned, a sexy boy-on-the-cusp-of man.
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I lock eyes with my reflection and don’t look away. The day you look away you start to lose yourself. I’m never going to lose myself. You are what you are. Deal with it or change.
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