There's nothing wrong with you..not even the darkest corner of that beautiful soul. ~ Hunter
Vicki PetterssonMots clés hunter olivia jo city-of-souls zodiac
I love the cancer spoon!
Vicki PetterssonThere's this mental illness, right? It's called 'anhedonia.' It means 'without pleasure.' You can look it up, though all you really need to do is look around." She motioned to the door the other women had disappeared through, and to the world at large. "A good deal of people, mostly women, spend their entire lives in this state. It's a sort of half-death. But if you recognize this, you can fix it...You focus on bliss. Small pleasures. Fill your day with as many as you can fit into twenty-four hours. You devote every possible moment not to fulfilling another person-a man-but yourself."-Suzanne
"Sounds hedonistic"- Joanna
"But once you can do this, you start attracting everyone to you. You dont need compare yourself to some other girl, no matter how young or firm or perky she is.....Trust me. A woman like this, one at her best? We're the color of the world. We're the light and the beauty. So focus on your pleasure, and the man you want can't help but realize...that he may be a prince...but your a goddess.-Suzanne
Mots clés women inspiration
I think you look like the spawn of Satan."
"Yeah, and you still look like my brother's favorite blow-up doll."
"Speaking of, what's the deal with the size of my breasts in last month's manual?" He'd drawn me so top heavy a stiff wind could have knocked me off balance.
"Creative license," he said with a shrug.
"A little too creative.
I snorted. "I could write a doctoral dissertation on his 'charitable spirit.
Vicki PetterssonMost had faded to a light jade by now...all except Chandra, I noted, with more than a little satisfaction. She was still a dazzling Day-Glo emerald, and I gave a little finger wave from across the room. She merely returned the finger.
Vicki PetterssonAll right," Marcus said, like he was doing me a grave favor. "But take it slow, sister. Any sudden moves and we'll drop you like a used-up ho on the corner of Fifth and Bridger.
Vicki PetterssonI didn't know his middle name or his favorite color, but I knew how his thoughts felt caressing my mind. The bright tang of his adrenaline coursing under my skin. The force of his heart, strong and rhythmic and a bit sad, pumping within my own chest.
Vicki PetterssonThe kiss was like swollen storm clouds ready to erupt, and when he moaned into my mouth, it was dewy and thunderous and zinging with ozone.
Vicki PetterssonNext time," I said wryly, swinging open the door, "just give me a knife and ask for a vein.
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