Don't leave me, Rainbow Girl." Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was? It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. "Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucรฉ's the night you told me to dress Goth?" "It's upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.
Karen Marie MoningMy city. I pondered that phrase, wondered why Barrons felt that way. He never said โour world.โ He always said โyour world.โ But he called Dublin his city. Merely because he'd been in it so long? Or had Barrons, like me, been beguiled by her tawdry grace, fallen for her charm and colorful dualities? I looked around โmyโ bookstore. That was what I called it. Did we call the things of our heart our own, whether they were or not?
Karen Marie MoningHe wasn't just masculine and sexual, he was carnal in a set-your-teeth-on-edge kind of way; he was almost frightning.
Karen Marie MoningYou might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesnโt work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.
Karen Marie MoningAt the very last moment, just before its lips claimed hers, its grip on her face relaxed slightly and she did the only thing she could think of: She head-butted it. Snapped her head back, then forward again, and bashed it square in the face as hard as she could. So hard, in fact, that it made her woozy and gave her an instant migraine, making her wonder how Jean-Claude Van Damme always managed to coolly continue fighting after such a stunt. Obviously, movies lied.
Karen Marie Moning