women-s-fiction

When my cell phone rang, I'd just finished cutting up my marriage mattress.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING?! Oh, right.$1500." From "Clown Porn" in "Broken Headbone

Mogadishu the beautiful - your white-turbaned mosques, baskets of anchovies as bright as mercury, jazz and shuffling feet, bird-boned servant girls with slow smiles, the blind white of your homes against the sapphire blue of the ocean - you are missed, her dreams seem to say.

Sons of a revolution fight for liberty. They give blood, flesh, limbs, their very lives. But daughters . . . we sacrifice our eternal souls.

I__ not only my father__ daughter, but also a daughter of the nation he founded. And protecting both is what I__e always done.

You__e a lady. It__ written all over you, but the West doesn__ forgive any woman-unless she__ got a man.

The embrace at the airport and stolen glances of Poe wasn't enough for him. Oliver needed to be closer to her again--emotionally and physically. His stomach clenched. Why couldn't Poe be his?

No, she's been killing me with kindness." She pointed her finger in his face. "There's a difference, and if you didn't have her on a pedestal, you could tell the difference.

Oliver knocked on the door, trying to keep his fear in check. Dominic didn't answer. Oliver looked around the porch for a hidden key, frantically searching under the welcome mat, but to no avail.

Poe, come on. Don't be like this." She avoided his gaze, and that was killing him. He'd rather she yell at him than give him nothing at all.

One peek inside his top drawer had been enough for Sophie. Swimming goggles, nail clippers, a Ferragamo tie wound into a tight coil, and packets of Gulden's Spicy Brown Mustard. None of that compared to Ira Blumenstein's gold tooth, Kenneth Yang's Darth Vader lollipop, or Rich Angstrom's Magic 8 Ball.

I haven't always been a patient man...but something tells me you'd be worth the wait.

Elsa's mother no longer spoke to her of men and love, but of duty and fate and accepting one__ burden. As far as Elsa could tell, if love really was the inherited female domain, then women were saddled with the biggest burden of all. It was pressing down upon them, the way the sea pressed down upon the creatures of the deep.

The truth remains quiet inside us,floundering like a battered bird,desperately wanting to spread itswings and fly away.-TARA

I wonder if every girl yearns for her father__ love,almost like waiting to catch the moon hiding in the trees__eautiful, yet so eternally elusive.-MUKTA

Sifting through scattered memories is like sifting through sand. Some remain, some simply slipaway_ TARA

It took me most of my childhood to realize that traditions have infinite power over us.-MUKTA

Brannagh Maloney had lived with disappearances all her life. They were as familiar to her as the changing of the Fundy tides. People who disappeared left cast-off shadows of themselves, murky tremblings that slunk out of corners on drizzly autumn afternoons. They lurked offstage, silent or sighing or reaching out to run a finger across her arm. They were the curtains fluttering in the window on a breezeless morning, the musty scent that arose when opening an abandoned cellar door. LET THE SHADOWS FALL BEHIND YOU (Kunati Books)