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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #marie
Chloe kept her expression bland. He looked immensely pleased with himself this morning, and there was no way she was letting him know she'd had even one nocturnal thought about him. "I can't remember," she said, blinking guilelessly. "In fact, I slept so deeply I don't think I dreamt at all." "Indeed," he murmured. When he moved forward, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but he simply reached behind her and pulled the door to her bedchamber shut. Then backed her against it. "Hey," she snapped. "I sought but to give you a good morrow kiss, lass. 'Tis a Scots custom." She craned her neck, scowling up at him, and gave him a look that said Yeah, right, nice try. "A wee one. No tongue. I promise," he said, his lips curving faintly. "You never give up, do you?" "I never will, sweet. Doona you know that by now?" Oooh, that was beginning to take on shades of her dream. And he'd called her "sweet," a little endearment. She damped her mouth shut and shook her head. ↗
Life was rich and full. She couldn't have asked for more. Well... actually... she amended with a little inner flinch, she could have. Though most of the time she looked at Adam and just felt awed and humbled that this big, wonderful man had given up so much to love her, sometimes she hated that he didn't have a soul, and sometimes she wanted to hate God. And she had a dream, a silly dream perhaps, but a dream to which she clung. They would live to be a hundred, until long after their children and grandchildren were grown, and one day they would go to bed and lie down facing each other, and die like that, at the same moment, in each other's arms. And this was her dream: that maybe, just maybe, if she loved him hard enough and true enough and deep enough, and if she held on to him tightly enough as they died, she could take him with her wherever it was that souls went. And there she would do what was in her blood, what she now knew she'd been born for; she would stand before God, a brehon, and she would argue the greatest, the most important case of her life. And she would win. ↗
.....I'm certain I asked for a cowboy one December past-- For I wanted the excitement of pioneers to last; I ached to sing with a fiddle, speak with a drawl and twang; I surely requested John Wayne to be part of my gang. Of course I dreamed of a cowboy in those Yuletides of yore-- For I wanted that ace, that corral fighter, that scout roar; I ached for the authentic frontier hero of the West; I surely requested the sacred battleground's finest. I did pray Santa'd give me a cowboy some time ago-- For I wanted a legend in denim wrangler for beau; I ached to be rounded up safely by my saddled knight; I surely requested I be prospected, mined, settled right... -----excerpted from the poem 'A Cowboy For Christmas' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY, by Mariecor Ruediger ↗
Beacon, beacon, lonesome on a hill— Waves run aground, pound ‘round, what a thrill! Water water everywhere crashes, Shore’s not lazy for it mashes, bashes….. Summer’s when tourists traipse o’er to see you, Offering to wipe-wash your dust and mildew; Summer painters place you with dinghy and gull, Historians have you as subject o’er which to mull. When feline Fog drifts gently or is heavy, Your bright light’s followed by boat bevy; And during those calm, clear days and nights You’re that upright nautical dream exciting tiny tykes. ↗
I vow that from this day forward you shall not walk alone. My strength is your protection, my heart is your shelter, and my arms are your home. I shall serve you in all those ways that you require. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. Yours is the name I whisper at the close of each day and the eyes into which I smile each morning. I give you all that is mine to give. My heart and my soul I pledge to you. You are my Chosen One, you are my mate, and you are bound to me for eternity. ↗
Adam arrived at 735 Monroe Street prepared for the woman to be a bit skittish. After all, she'd run from him earlier, obviously intimidated by his overwhelming masculinity and epic sexuality. Women often had that reaction to him, especially when he was stripping off his pants. Or kilt, depending on the century. He was also prepared, however, for her inhibitions to drop swiftly, as did all women's when they got a good, close-up look at him. After that, many simply launched themselves at him in a full-frontal assault of sexual frenzy. He'd been entertaining himself with just that possibility, his entire body tight with lust, while tracking her down with the information he'd obtained int he room called "Human Resources" at Little & Staller. But nothing in his vast repertoire of experience had prepared him for Gabrielle O'Callaghan. The bloodthirsty little hellion didn't react like any woman he'd ever encountered. She took one horrified look at him, drew back her arm, hauled off, and smashed him in the face with some kind of satchel she was holding. Then slammed the door and locked it. Leaving him on the doorstep, bleeding. Bleeding, by Danu, blood trickling from his lip! ↗
#gabby #karen-marie-moning #the-immortal-highlander #experience
I'm taller than my father, and taller than two of the stones at Ban Drochaid." "I meant in feet," she clarified. Speaking of the mundane gave her a measure of calm. He eyed his boots a moment and appeared to be doing some rapid calculations. ↗
#funny #gwen #height #karen-marie-moning #kiss-of-the-highlander
Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. "Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred. ↗
#funny #highlander #karen-marie-moning #spell-of-the-highlander #funny
Propping the mirror against the wall near the door, he waved a hand at it and clipped, "Drustan: Cian MacKeltar. Cian: Drustan MacKeltar." "Dageus," Drustan's voice was soft as velvet, never a good sign, "why are you introducing me to a mirror? ↗
