Word of advice. These have a kick, so don’t suck too hard—” Holy hypoxia, Batman.

What is wrong with you ” he whispered “that you care so much about me ” Blay’s sad smile added about a million years to his age lining his face with the kind of knowledge that came only after life kicked you in the nuts a number of times. “What is wrong with you that you can’t see why I would

It was right then and there that she'd realized there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, got you miraculously taken out of the distress pool.

Besides, you think I'm not used to hurting? For me, it's home sweet home, my brother.

Ah, now, don't get all mushy on me. We ain't dating." Butch

Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward

Her bra was cotton and white and, bless its little frickin´ heart, had a front clasp.