Annabelle’s eyes stung as she stared at him, while need and inexhaustible tenderness gathered like an ache in her body. “I realized something,” she said huskily, “when I was standing outside the foundry, watching it burn and knowing you were inside.” She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat. “I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years… all those winters, summers… a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.” She managed a tremulous smile. “So you may as well stop complaining and resign yourself to it.
Lisa KleypasTag: wallflower simon hunt annabelle
You're beautiful, every part of you. I love your hair, the way it looks, the way it feels. I love touching it, smelling it. I love the way you wrinkle your nose when you laugh. It makes me laugh, too, every time. And I love watching you eat. Sometimes you can't shovel it in fast enough, but when you get interested in a conversation, you forget there's anything in front of you. God knows, I love making love with you. I can't even talk about that without wanting you. I love your pathetic attachment to those seniors. I love how hard you work.
Susan Elizabeth PhillipsTag: love annabelle heath match-me-if-you-can
I want you back, Annabelle.” This time my laughter is full of nothing but genuine humor. It’s that ‘oh my god, I can’t believe that’ kind of humor. I lean forward and put my face in my palms, still laughing. “Holy crap,” I say in-between laughs, “that’s hilarious.” I peek up at him to see his disgruntled expression and then bust up laughing again. “I’m serious,” he grunts out, looking cute in his exasperation, damn him. Not done, I hold up a hand. “Oh, oh, wait. Just let me go get my gun so you can shoot me again. Of course I want to get back together with you, Gabriel.” Putting on a serious face, I say earnestly, “He shoots me because he loves me.
April BrookshireI'm a librarian in town,' she began.
'You sure about that?'
The words popped out before he could stop them.
Annabelle raised her eyebrows. 'Fairly. It's my job and so far no one has told me to go away when I show up for work.'
smooth, Stryker, he thought, very smooth.
'I was expecting someone wearing glasses. You know. Because librarians read a lot.'
The raised eyebrows turned into a frown. 'You need to get out of the barn more.
Tag: funny librarians shane annabelle foot-in-mouth awkward-encounters
you're Shane, right?'
He inched away from her and managed a quick nod as he twisted the rag he held in his fingers.
'Heidi sad you were willing to teach me how to ride.' Her expression shifted from entertained to confused, as if she was wondering why no one had mentioned he was a can or two shy of a six-pack.
'A horse,' he clarified, then wanted to kick himself. What else but a horse? Did he think she was here to learn to ride his mother's elephant?
One corner of Annabelle's perfect, full mouth twitched. 'A horse would be good. You seem to have several.'
He wanted to remind himself that he was usually fine around women. Smooth even. He was intelligent, funny and could, on occasion, be charming. Just not now, with his blood pumping and his brain doing nothing more than shouting "it's her, it's her" over and over again.
Chemistry, he thought grimly. It could turn the smartest man into a drooling idiot. Here he was, proving the theory true.
Tag: stupidity chemistry shane annabelle awkward-encounters
It shall be my pleasure to remedy it. First, it is not your strength or your speed that draws me. It's your...everything. Your laugh, your wit, your emotions and the way they change. Your courage, your sweetness, your near obsessive delight in cookies. Second, you are indeed a prize. You've made me want what no one else ever had. A communion of bodies."
-Zacharel to Annabelle
Annabelle laughs. "Oh, so you think you're hot, do you?"
"Girl, I got swag for days.
In this trunk," she says with a serious face, "is God's gift to women."
"Chocolate?"
"No."
"Midol?"
"What? No."
"Tampons?"
"Stop guessing," she says.
Have you ever felt as if your dreams were more memorable, more alive, than what you knew to be reality? Have your dreams ever seemed so tangible as to make you question upon waking if you’d truly only dreamt them? Have they at times been addictive enough to consume your waking hours; blurring actuality and pretend together until your wishes and passions stare back at you with open eyes?
If only dreams could be reality, that beautiful garden of sweet-smelling roses we all long for. But reality for me is no such bed of roses. It is nothing but a field of unwanted dandelions."
- From the thoughts of Annabelle Fancher
Tag: dreams fantasy child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich annabelle-fancher
My fingers combed through my dark hair, short and straight, landing in choppy, uneven ends nearly level with my chin. The color reminded me of every evil character in any fairy tale. It seemed all were characteristically black; black hair, black eyes, black clothing, black demeanor, and black intent. I never thought I was truly a villainous character, not like I knew my father to be, but I was his offspring and devoid of any princess-like characteristics, so that left only the wicked side of the story to play.
In my dreams, though, I imagined myself more like Snow White―wavy, raven hair, a perfectly fair complexion, bathed in rose scents, and exhibiting a natural feminine grace that would dance musical circles around both Ginger and Elizabeth. No, I never hoped for such a thing to be real, but I dared to pretend it with perfect clarity in my dreams.
Tag: black wishful-thinking dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
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