“But I might—” he bit out. “Tell me you’re not a fucking virgin.”
“No, I’m not a fucking virgin. Virgins have yet to fuck, remember?”
― Lora Leigh, quote from Tempting the Beast
“Testosterone overload?" Merinus gave an unladylike grunt. "More like asshole overload if you ask me.”
― Lora Leigh, quote from Tempting the Beast
“Callan took a deep breath. “I never expected you.” He shook his head with an edge of amusement. “You are a dangerous woman, Merinus Tyler.”
“Naw, just a determined woman.” She grinned against his shoulder. “I know a good thing when I see it jacking off.”
― Lora Leigh, quote from Tempting the Beast
“When they reached the stairs, he didn’t make her climb them herself. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the big bathroom off their bedroom. He didn’t speak, his expression didn’t soften. But he was hard. His cock was like a poker, steely and hot against her hip. His eyes blazed with lust.”
― Lora Leigh, quote from Tempting the Beast
“It’s normal.” Doc grinned. “The mating ritual of all animals. The males fight for dominance over their females. Human males have lost the fight in the past generations with feminism and equal rights and getting in touch with their sensitive sides,” he snickered. “Callan’s DNA refuses to allow him the choice in dominating her. It’s part of his genetic code.”
― Lora Leigh, quote from Tempting the Beast
Lora Leigh
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“But yet let me lament
with tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts [...]
that our stars, irreconcilable, should divide
our equalness to this.”
― William Shakespeare, quote from Antony and Cleopatra
“He looked at Kevin again. Kevin didn't recognize him, but maybe some part of him remembered the boy he'd met so many years ago. Neil's past was locked in Kevin's memories. It was proof he existed, same as this game they both played. Kevin was proof Neil was real. Maybe Kevin was also the best chance Neil had at knowing when to leave again. If he lived, practiced, and played with Kevin, he'd know when Kevin started to get suspicious.”
― Nora Sakavic, quote from The Foxhole Court
“I recognized no obstacle to miraculous change but the incredulity of others. This was an idea that died hard, if it ever really died at all.”
― Tobias Wolff, quote from This Boy's Life
“Is there a bird among them, dear boy?” Charity asked innocently, peering not at the things on the desk, but at his face, noting the muscle beginning to twitch at Ian’s tense jaw.
“No.”
“Then they must be in the schoolroom! Of course,” she said cheerfully, “that’s it. How like me, Hortense would say, to have made such a silly mistake.”
Ian dragged his eyes from the proof that his grandfather had been keeping track of him almost from the day of his birth-certainly from the day when he was able to leave the cottage on his own two legs-to her face and said mockingly, “Hortense isn’t very perceptive. I would say you are as wily as a fox.”
She gave him a little knowing smile and pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell her, will you? She does so enjoy thinking she is the clever one.”
“How did he manage to have these drawn?” Ian asked, stopping her as she turned away.
“A woman in the village near your home drew many of them. Later he hired an artist when he knew you were going to be somewhere at a specific time. I’ll just leave you here where it’s nice and quiet.” She was leaving him, Ian knew, to look through the items on the desk. For a long moment he hesitated, and then he slowly sat down in the chair, looking over the confidential reports on himself. They were all written by one Mr. Edgard Norwich, and as Ian began scanning the thick stack of pages, his anger at his grandfather for this outrageous invasion of his privacy slowly became amusement. For one thing, nearly every letter from the investigator began with phrases that made it clear the duke had chastised him for not reporting in enough detail. The top letter began,
I apologize, Your Grace, for my unintentional laxness in failing to mention that indeed Mr. Thornton enjoys an occasional cheroot…
The next one opened with,
I did not realize, Your Grace, that you would wish to know how fast his horse ran in the race-in addition to knowing that he won.
From the creases and holds in the hundreds of reports it was obvious to Ian that they’d been handled and read repeatedly, and it was equally obvious from some of the investigator’s casual comments that his grandfather had apparently expressed his personal pride to him:
You will be pleased to know, Your Grace, that young Ian is a fine whip, just as you expected…
I quite agree with you, as do many others, that Mr. Thornton is undoubtedly a genius…
I assure you, Your Grace, that your concern over that duel is unfounded. It was a flesh wound in the arm, nothing more.
Ian flipped through them at random, unaware that the barricade he’d erected against his grandfather was beginning to crack very slightly.
“Your Grace,” the investigator had written in a rare fit of exasperation when Ian was eleven,
“the suggestion that I should be able to find a physician who might secretly look at young Ian’s sore throat is beyond all bounds of reason. Even if I could find one who was willing to pretend to be a lost traveler, I really cannot see how he could contrive to have a peek at the boy’s throat without causing suspicion!”
The minutes became an hour, and Ian’s disbelief increased as he scanned the entire history of his life, from his achievements to his peccadilloes. His gambling gains and losses appeared regularly; each ship he added to his fleet had been described, and sketches forwarded separately; his financial progress had been reported in minute and glowing detail.”
― Judith McNaught, quote from Almost Heaven
“Conor, I could search the world for another swashbuckling scientist, but I doubt if I would find one like you.”
― Eoin Colfer, quote from Airman
A Different Mirror:...
Diary of Saint Maria...
The Stars, Like Dust
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