J.R. Ward

Love, he realized, was like the daggers he made in his forge: When you first got one it was shiny and new and the blade glinted bright in the light. Holding it against your palm, you were full of optimism for what it would be like in the field, and you couldn't wait to try it out. Except those first couple of nights out were usually awkward as you got used to it and it got used to you.Over time, the steel lost its brand-new gleam, and the hilt became stained, and maybe you nicked the shit out of the thing a couple of times. What you got in return, however, saved your life: Once the pair of you were well acquainted, it became such a part of you that it was an extension of your own arm. It protected you and gave you a means to protect your brothers; it provided you with the confidnece and the power to face whatever came out of the night; and wherever you went, it stayed with you, right over your heart, always there when you needed it.You had to keep the blade up, however. And rewrap the hilt from time to time. And double-check the w

Are you holding her?_ Wrath asked. There was a pause. __s soon as I get this bow tied in the back__old on, girlie. Okay, up you go. She__ in a pink dress that Cormia made her by hand. I hate pink. I like it on her, though__ut keep that to yourself._ Wrath flexed his hands. __hat__ it like?_ __ot totally hating pink? Pretty fuck__hrm, frickin_ emasculating._ __eah._ __o not tell me Lassiter__ been metrosexualizing even you. I heard he talked Manello into going for a pedicure with him__ut I__ praying that__ just gossip._-Wrath & Zsadist

Man, it was a good thing vampires didn't get cancer. Lately he'd been chain-smoking like a felon.

Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward

Personally, I think so-called "common language" is more interesting and apropos than "proper English"; it's passionate and powerful in ways that "wherefore art thou ass and thy elbow" just isn't.

I want to see the front of you.___hat__ what all the girls say.___o you expect me to roll you over? __uz I will.___our mate__ not going to like this.___s if that__ going to bother you?___rue. It actually makes it worth the effort.__ith a groan, he shoved his palms into the shimmering silver pool of blood beneath him, and flopped over like the side of beef he was.__ow,_ she breathed.__ know, right? Hung like a horse.___f you__e really nice__nd you live through this____l promise not to tell V.___bout my size.__he laughed a little. __o, that you assumed I__ look at you in any fashion other than professionally.

Without time, you have only the bottomless, shapeless mire of eternity....Time is what gives life significance.

Michael Rafferty was a goodman. A solid man. He was never going to be Hugh Jackman handsome or Bill Gates rich or King of England powerful. But he was hers and he was Sean's and that was more than enough

Okay, well...how's that water feeling, then?' 'Excuse me?' 'The Nile warm this time of the year?

You've always been there for me. Always. Even when I_" V"Even when you what?" B"You know." V"What?" B"Fuck. Even when I was in love with you. Or some shit." VButch clasped his hands to his chest. "Was? Was? I can't believe you've lost interest." He threw one arm over his eyes, all Sarah Bernhardt. "My dreams of our future are shattered_" B"Shut it, cop." VButch looked out from under his arm. "Are you kidding me? The reality show I had planned was fantastic. Was going to pitch it to VH1. Two Bites Are Better Than One. We were going to make millions ." B"Oh, for the love.

But then, gifts are like beauty, are they not. It is in the eye of the recipient that they find their seat, not in the hand of the giver.

As Qhuinn looked at his best friend's handsome face, he felt as if he'd never not known that red hair, those blue eyes, those lips, that jaw. And it was because of their long history that he searched for something to say, something that would get them back to where they had been. All that came to him was . . . I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad it hurts, but I don't know how to find you even though you're right in front of me.

Qhuinn's eyes shifted away from his buddy--and just happened to measure the distance down to the stone patio below. Hmm . . . doing a swan dive onto all that slate might just get the images of those two out of his head... of course, it would also turn his brain into scrambled eggs, but really, was that such a bad thing?

It felt odd to realize she was frightened more by what he might know, and not of what he might be.

Ah, hell.His peripheral vision was working far too well tonight.His slut of a cousin, his cocksucking, suit-wearing, Montblanc-up-the-ass cousin Saxton the Magnificent, was standing next to the queen, looking like a combination of Cary Grant and some model in a goddamn cologne ad.Not that Qhuinn was bitter.Because the guy was sharing Blay's bed.Nah.Nope. Not at all.The Cocksucker-With a wince, he thought maybe he should switch that insult to something a little farther away from what the two of them ...God, he couldn't even go there. Not if he wanted to breathe.

Sometimes in life, from out of a myriad of prosaic decisions like what to eat and where to sleep and how to dress, a true crossroads is revealed. In these moments, when the fog of relative irrelevancy lifts and fate rolls out a demand for free will, there is only left or right _ no option of four-by-fouring into the underbrush between two paths, no negotiating with the choice that has been presented. You must answer the call and pick your way. And there is no reverse.

Caregivers had to take care of themselves, and part of that meant having a life beyond whatever illness had put them in their cole.

You are the sweetest thug I've ever known.