欧宝娱乐

“But the more we all stuck together, the more outside layers fell off, revealing that we all have insecurities, fears, and dreams. And that's perfectly normal. That's how God made us.”
― Allyson Kennedy, Speak Your Mind

“Did you notice?鈥�
鈥淣otice what?鈥�
鈥淗ow small she is? Even her hands are tiny, but her fingers are long. I don鈥檛 even know how that鈥檚 possible.鈥�
He was still making that face.
"I mean, I guess it鈥檚 her fingers. They鈥檙e longer than her palms, so it gives the illusion that they鈥檙e long in general. Pretty sure one of her hands would fit on my palm. Like in Beauty and the Beast when he holds her hand and it鈥檚 just a wrist disappearing into his big, hairy fist.鈥�
He added blinking to the face. 鈥淒id you just compare yourself to a Disney movie?”
― Staci Hart, Work in Progress

“Shy girls are the prettiest!”
― Avijeet Das

“My face is like some sort of bashful chameleon, flashing red at any sign of social interaction. Stupid face.”
― Allyson Kennedy, Speak Your Mind

“She refused to feel guilty for not talking to Portia about the Earl of Harte. She couldn't discuss what she didn't understand, and she had no idea what to think of the man with the forbidding gaze.
Avenell Slade.
Lily snuggled deeper beneath her blankets.
She loved the way his name felt moving through her mind. It was sharp and smooth at the same time. Dark and light.
Lily knew she was no great beauty. She did not have Portia's dramatic dark hair or flashing eyes. Nor did she have Emma's commanding presence. She did her best to be content with her place among her exceptional sisters.
But now, after experiencing Lord Harte's painful slight, she found herself wishing she stood out more, that she was somehow more attractive, more striking.
She should forget him. Put him completely from her mind. He had made it infinitely clear he did not welcome her interest.
Yet, she wanted to know him. It was that simple and that impossible.
A hollowness spread from Lily's center. It was a sensation she had experienced more than once since she had begun her foray into the marriage market. It was the fear that what she sought might never be found- that the kind of deep passion she yearned for existed only in sordid novels.
As thoughts of Lord Harte continued to agitate her mind and created a growing restlessness in her body, Lily imagined an often-read scene from one of her favorite stories. It was frighteningly easy to cast the enigmatic Lord Harte in the role of dark seducer, but she struggled to envision herself as the intrepid heroine.
Lily did not possess a bold bone in her body. By nature, she had always been rather shy and had never been able to cultivate the kind of self-confidence her sisters possessed. Though she may crave the passionate experiences she read about, she did not possess the courage to explore such things beyond the privacy of her mind.”
― Amy Sandas, The Untouchable Earl

“She was the one to kiss me, nervously, because it was something she had never done before- with me or with anyone else. At first she just brushed her lips on mine, and she was on the precipice of doing something more, but she didn't quite know what to do. I took over then, leaning into her and kissing her. She tasted of tears and toothpaste, salt and sweet.”
― Alex Brunkhorst, The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine

“At eighteen, Lady Joanna ben Luke had a talent for being invisible. The night of the Coronation Ball, she applied herself to the task and blended into the yellow and gold wallpaper like a chameleon. Invisibility, unfortunately, did nothing to ease her physical discomfort. She surmised the seventh ring of Hell was not much hotter than the Palace ballroom tonight.”
― Staci Morrison, M4-Sword of the Spirit

“At eighteen, Lady Joanna ben Luke had a talent for being invisible. The night of the Coronation Ball, she applied herself to the task and blended into the yellow and gold wallpaper like a chameleon. Invisibility, unfortunately, did nothing to ease her physical discomfort. She surmised the seventh ring of Hell was not much hotter than the Palace ballroom tonight.

Her brown eyes widened with dread as she felt a slow rivulet of sweat run down the inside of her arm. A covert glance confirmed it, wet armpits. Great, just great. Even if they dried, which was unlikely in this heat, silk stained. She resigned herself to keeping her arms plastered to her sides for the rest of the night, which did nothing to improve her mood or ease the pain from the corset stays. Those medieval torture devices were supposed to make her appear trim. Instead, they dug painfully into her soft belly and forced her ample bosom so high she was afraid one of the straining gold buttons was going to launch and put someone鈥檚 eye out. She couldn鈥檛 even take a deep breath, trussed up and sweating like a pale chicken ten minutes into the roasting cycle.”
― Staci Morrison, M2-Rise of the Giants