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Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you’re going to do?” My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.
Kim Harrison
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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Looked
Gazed
Doors
Snack
Coming
Scratching
Comes
Snacks
Might
Pulse
Nothing
Fronts
Going
Later
Quickened
Front
Trent
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It was a nice bit of blackmail that kept him off my back, but he refused to take the message that I wasn’t going to work for him. ’Course, that might be my fault…since I seemed unable to say no when he waved enough money at me.
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If it was up to me, I’d choose the hard path with the easy ending, not the easy path with the hard end.
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Hovering near panic, trying to focus but finding it hard to open my eyes. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t get enough air, and I couldn’t find the desire to push her away
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But I knew Nick. He was too ugly to die.
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I'll always be here, he said softly. You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I'll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you'll let me.
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Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.
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Where did he go!” he bellowed, gloved hands clenching. “I had him in a snare that would take Alexander the Great a lifetime to untwist, and he did it in a week!” Al took a step, pinwheeling as his booted heel found an ice cube.
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Teens like a lot of the same things adults do: smart people doing amazing things against awful odds.
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Okay, I like him,” I admitted. “But it takes more than a nice body, Jenks. Jeez, I do have a little depth. You’ve got a great body, and you don’t see me trying to get into your Fruit of the Looms.
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Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.
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For all his sourness, he was ruled by his heart.
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I want…” he said, then hesitated, taking a breath of air and lifting his chin. “I want one pure thing in my life,” he said loudly, his voice ringing in the red-tinted air. “I want one thing I can point to and say, ‘That is good, and it’s a part of me.
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You bet your Grannie's Panties I will.
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Oh for the sweet humpin' love of Tink! ~ Jenks
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He didn't want Lucy to grow up feeling alone, surrounded by everything and having nothing.
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