Any tips for winning?” she’d asked. “Yeah. Do what you gotta do to survive.” “That’s it? Wow. You suck at pep talks.
Gena ShowalterHe gave her what no one else had ever been able to give. A past to cherish. A present to enjoy. A future to anticipate
Gena ShowalterSo, your saying choices and destiny shape the course of our lives? "I think so, yes. It's just easier to blame fate for all of the mistakes.
Gena ShowalterNo.” He wouldn’t lie about that. Not to her. And not because she’d rip him to pieces when she discovered the truth. “I can’t give you forever.” The nibbling increased in intensity, leaving a bead of blood in the center of her mouth. “Because we’re not a good match?” Of course she would remember every insult he’d ever thrown at her. “Yes.” “Then what can you give me?” “Here. Now.” Something his body craved more with every second that passed.
Gena ShowalterYes, you make yourself useful, angel boy. Meanwhile, I’ll be in the bathroom.” William’s jet-black hair was dripping wet and plastered to his face. There was a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, displaying muscles that rivaled Paris’s own, and a tattooed treasure map that led to his man junk. Looking at his, you could see the makings of a temper so savage anyone who miraculously survived an encounter with him would end up needing therapy. And diapers. “I’ve got to finish deep conditioning my hair.” Or maybe not so savage.
Gena Showalter