Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?โ โI do.โ I squint at it, then him. โWhat are you paying me?โ I angle. โDude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.โ I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor heโs shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.
Karen Marie MoningI wake up wating you. I fall asleep wanting you. I watch a magnificent sunrise and can think only of sharing it with you. I glimpse a piece of amver and see your eyes. Jillian, I've caught a disease, and the fever abates only when I'm near you.
Karen Marie MoningIf you're trying to force the story to be a straight up romance, it's going to be weird for you.
Karen Marie MoningThe running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.
Karen Marie MoningThen her eyes narrowed. The sun was spilling in the window behind her and Dageus's eyes were golden, dappled with darker flecks. Smoky and sensual, fringed by thick dark lashes, but gold nonetheless. "What is with your eyes?" she exclaimed. "Is it part of being a Druid?" "What color are they?" he asked warily. "Gold." He flashed her another unguarded smile. It was like basking in the sun, she thought, tracing her fingers over his beard-shadowed jaw, smiling helplessly back.
Karen Marie Moning