You must have had such a great childhood with a man like that for your father. (Delphine)
Yeah. All puppy dogs and rainbows and those weird furry people with padded coat hangers on their heads that look like space aliens on acid. (Jericho)
You mean the Teletubbies? (Berith)
The fact that you know what they're called, Berith, truly scares me. (Jericho)
As a demon of torture, it behooves me to know all things that are deeply annoying. You'd be amazed how many people in the modern age no longer fear zombies as much as Teletubbies. (Berith)
Not really. I'd rather battle a brain-eating zombie any day than hear them sing. (Jericho)
Mots clés sherrilyn-kenyon berith delphine dream-warrior jericho
God Said: Let there be light!
I said: Say please.
So that’s why vampires are so pissed off all the time? Because their junk’s gone rusty?
S.L.J. ShorttMots clés humor jericho daniel
If he were any other man, I might have suspected him of substance abuse, of being coked up or something. But Barrons was too much a purist for that; his drugs were money, power, and control
Karen Marie MoningMots clés substance-abuse jericho
You were patient all this time. I had to find myself first; I had to remember who I was and become the person I was meant to be. You have been there for me patiently while I searched for you, even when I didn't know I was looking for you, you were there.
Rachel HigginsonHe forced my soul back into innocent belief, not by empty words or false promises but by consistent action that never failed. He was safe.
Rachel HigginsonMots clés love romance healing jericho
Jericho? You're smiling." "I am?" He stroked her cheek again. Warm tingles coursed through her, and instinctively, she followed his touch a second time. His smile widened. "I must be happy." (...) "You're quite handsome when you're happy." Jericho trailed one finger under her chin. "I'll make a note of your preference.
Karen WitemeyerHe studied me with his predator's gaze, assessing me from head to toe. I studied him back. He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him. About thirty, six foot two or three, he had dark hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. His features were strong, chiseled. I couldn't pinpoint his nationality any more than I could his accent; some kind of European crossed with Old World Mediterranean or maybe an ancestor with dark Gypsy blood. He wore an elegant, dark gray Italian suit, a crisp white shirt, and a muted patterned tie. He wasn't handsome. That was too calm a word. He was intensely masculine. He was sexual. He attracted. There was an omnipresent carnality about him, in his dark eyes, in his full mouth, in the way he stood. He was the kind of man I wouldn't flirt with in a million years.
Karen Marie MoningMots clés jericho
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