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.

If sex were food, Rhage would have been morbidly obese.

When he nodded, the physician disappeared into thin air, and then a moment later, Payne felt a warm palm encompass hers. It was Vishous's un-gloved hand against her own and the connection between them eased her in ways she couldn't name. Verily, she had lost her mother . . . but if she lived through this, she still had family. On this side.

Next time you think of me like that , say my name when you come. It'll get you off even better.

That's the problem with white horses. You have to pay for them yourself or you'll always be using someone else's reins.

After all, tragedy didn't discriminate, so everyone was subject to the same whims of fate.

When she orgasmed, she said his name. Twice. And didn’t it make him glad that even though he had no voice, his ears worked just fine. –JM