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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #pens
These were not the belongings of the past prisoner he had imagined. These were a lady’s things—hairpins and stockings and a glove. There were more clues waiting but William no longer felt certain he wanted to know the dark secrets of this cell. ↗
#historical-fiction-mystery #mystery #romantic-suspence #suspense #von-strassenberg
I do not possess the ability to draw or paint. I can’t sing or dance. I can’t knit or sew. But I am an artist. I have the ability to put onto paper, words that tell an intriguing story. I am a writer. A writer is someone who, with just words, can paint a beautiful picture. A writer can open up a world of imagination you didn’t realize was possible. When you open up a book and become so consumed in the story, you feel like you’re a part of it… you’re standing next to that character and feeling the same way that character feels, That’s the art of a writer. I am an artist. My inspiration is the world around me. My paintbrush is my words. My easel is my computer. My canvas is the mind of my reader. ↗
He is nothing more than one of my pawns. However, he is not a normal pawn. He is a pawn that can get across the whole board in one move. ↗
His kiss was like no other! His kiss was enchanted and fairy-tale like. He applied pressure, but just enough to feel his tenderness and warmth. I could feel his heart beating wildly as he pressed his chest against my chest all the while his loving lips brushed up against mine with a care-filled affection. His tongue lightly licked the outer edges of my mouth, and then searched for my tongue. The pursuit allowed a marriage of both tongues to meet - inspiring a mingling tango of hot and heavy French kissing to manifest profusely. We kissed like two hot and horny teenagers, our mouths moving and craving each others lips, in animalistic desires! (Like this? Feel free to check it out on Amazon. FREE for the KDP Select) ↗
Without warning, he jumped into the air. Startled, I held him tighter, my cheek against his. Speaking into my ear, he said, “Yer not too tall, nor too thin, nor do ye weigh too much. Yer perfect the way ye are, lass. A man that does not possess the strength, patience and intelligence to provide fer and protect a woman is no man at all. ↗
Or, God, maybe this was just life. For everyone on the planet. Maybe the Survivor's Club wasn't something you "earned," but simply what you were born into when you came out of your mother's womb. Your heartbeat put you on the roster and then the rest of it was just a question of vocabulary: the nouns and verbs used to describe the events that rocked your foundation and sent you flailing were not always the same as other people's, but the random cruelties of disease and accident, and the malicious focus of evil men and nasty deeds, and the heartbreak of loss with all its stinging whips and rattling chains... At the core, it was all the same. ↗
The essential truth of life, he was coming to realize, wasn't romantic an took only two words to label: Shit. Happens. ↗
