Obviously I know if you're putting yourself out there, saying, 'Hey! Listen to my music!,' with pictures of yourself in the magazines, then people are going to judge you. 'I hate her music. I hate her hair. I hate her production. I hate her videos.' ...
hanging out the window, Amber blew her a kiss. a lump the size of a fist clogged Heather's throat, while a breeze from th sea pushed her thick hair away from her face. tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks.
I gathered my courage like nuts and berries, I cautiously approached her, I waited for her to turn her head, and then I sprinkled them in her yogurt. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Ah, but that’s life, no?
He sweeps her hair back from her ears; he swings her above his head. he says she is his émerveillement. He says he will never leave her, not in a million years.
I suspect that Jane Austen's practice of denying herself the aid of figurative language which, as much as any of her other habits of expression, repelled Charlotte Brontë, and has alienated other readers, conscious with a dissatisfaction with her st...
If a lioness spends her hours pacing back and forth in a cage of gold with the finest meats at her disposal, does that make her any less of a prisoner? If that same feline’s fangs are filed down to blunt, un-tearing teeth and her roar is silenced, ...
Time was the most precious thing in the world to me, and I’d just given her all of it. Because I was falling for her. Because I cared for her. Because I wanted to give her something to remember me by, even if it would eventually fade like its names...
Her upbringing had given her an independence of mind that made her more like a girl of today than one of her own time - which was why she had walked out, and why she was not daunted by the prospect of being alone.
Biting a plump bottom lip, I stare into endless irises open and poised over my own. Sliding my hand up her thigh, under her gown, I pull her closer with the hand cupping her hipbone, releasing the growl of a king caught in delight.
In her dance, she controlled the bright paper birds with invisible wires and threads. She played the human: heavy, tied to earth. Her dances weren't pretty or delightful, but they were magical, [...] They called her a dancer and a puppeteer and an ar...
Alyssa tried to lift her chin. She was going to do the one thing she loved again- something that reminded her of her mother; something dear to her. So what if she felt this undeniable attraction toward the dark-haired man. Correction. Earl. So what, ...
It’s just snow,” Lesa said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not going to hurt you.” Kimmy smoothed her hands over her blond hair. “Sugar melts.” “Yeah, and shit floats.” Lesa took her seat, yanking out last night’s English homework.
You shaved for this." "For you." He clutched her bare legs under her skirt, reminding her he still expected a traditional get-laid one night stand. She shoved his hands off her. "Maybe I wanted rough stubble." "By morning it will be all yours.
Mrs Bennet was a great connoissuer of feminine beauty and indeed it must be owned that she herself was a very handsome woman. As to the sweetness of her temper, there was less compelling evidence; yet in all her forty years she had given none of her ...
Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the i...
She reached for the hilt of her sword, but like a flash he drew the dagger that was at his waist and held it at her throat with his other hand pressed behind her neck. “Now, now princess, that is not the proper way to behave. I have not even threat...
I loved her like I needed her. I soaked her up like a soup bowl made of bread. I’m hungry for her even as I write this now. Somebody get me a spoon!
He doesn’t move a muscle except for his eyes that follow her path as though somehow he can see her contrails. His whole existence revolves around a girl who left his orbit, and he was the one who spun her off her axis.
He had never cared if his victims lived or died once he was through with them. But not her. He couldn’t allow her to die. The moment he felt that small flutter of her heart, ready to give way to his hunger, he had stopped and gazed down at her for ...
Why was it that her temper and her thinking never happened at the same time? Her temper behaved like a glutton sitting in an expensive restaurant ordering a hundred dishes, only to disappear when the bill came due. It left her lucid mind to do dishes...
It was the flashing lights, and the noise of the machines, and the loud, loud music, all seeming to refract and contract around her, her eyes widening, her hair swooshing, her slow smile shining. She seemed an actual part of the place - all fun, all ...
