#roma

I think I found your vampire,” Andrew said, except this time he wasn’t so amused. However, Gabriella was, her smile huge as she laughed, the sound a trill in the densely packed cold air. “You think this is funny?” The words came out surly, but Andrew couldn’t stop his lips from twitching over her amusement. “I thought they’d be bigger,” she said, stifling another round of giggles. “Are you okay?” “Just a flesh wound. ↗

— Laura Kreitzer

#fantasy #fiction #key-of-pearl #laura-kreitzer #paranormal-fantasy

Love fades, mine has. ~Dimitri Belikov~ ↗

— Richelle Mead

#love

Upon the shores of death I have been told there is a place between the tides where time and pain do not exist ↗

— Frederick Anderson

#death

What have I done to anger you, mate?” “That. That’s what you did. I’m not your mate.” He leaned in close and ran his nose up her neck, inhaling a deep breath. “Yes, you are,” he whispered next to her ear. ↗

— Virginia Cavanaugh

#erotic #romance #shifter #the-fire-inside #anger

You are a Queen. Let mine be the joy of giving you your kingdom. ↗

— Katherine Mansfield

#love #queen #romance #love

Then you have this other phenomena of the paranormal romance. It's all the benefits of being a vampire without the sacrifices. By the gods, Meyer's vampires walk around sparkling in the daylight and some are vegetarians. But this phenomenon is also tied to a lot of our communal fears. Fear of aging. Fear of fading youth. Fear of loneliness. But whereas the classic motifs are more concerned with confronting and overcoming our fears, the fears of the paranormal romance genre become twisted fantasies of denial. The idea of staying young, attractive and powerful for eternity feeds into the modern self-absorbed ethos. ↗

— Julie Ann Dawson

#twilight-saga #vampires #age

By day, it was merely the Lane That Time Forgot; perfect for a bygone age when a pony and trap might have trotted merrily down to the village and back, but less suited to modern requirements and any car without a ‘thin’ button. ↗

— Christine Stovell

#age

She was breathtaking in her beauty and her human spirit, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed upon her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to hide away, to bask in, himself alone. She had become his. He didn’t know when, whether it had been the moment her fingertips had touched him when he was hurt, or if it had grown, like a seed, slowing spreading until Jane had become the root anchoring the shattered pieces of his heart, pulling them tight together until it resembled the organ it should. ↗

— Charlotte Featherstone

#jane #love #romance #sinful #wallingford

She said it was beautiful to be loved, and that it made everything on earth look brighter. ↗

— Fanny Fern

#romance #beauty

He smiled and it was beautiful and horrible what I saw in it. Hope that should not be born and desire that could never bear fruit. Whether they were my feelings or his, I did not know. ↗

— Gwen Hayes

#beauty