N.J. Weeks > Quotes

“Fingers crossed that I cross paths with the psycho killer that’s decapitating their unsuspecting victims one by one.  Double fingers crossed he’s hot and masked.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trick

“I’ll tell you what, though. Death, as inevitably wicked a concept as it is, has made me stronger. It has made me realize that I can walk through fire and come out still intact. Different, sure, but intact, nonetheless. It has taught me that life is more fleeting than it is precious. In those fleeting moments is when we decide what we want to do with the time we are given.”
― N.J. Weeks, Skulls and Stitches

“Holy shit, it's a religious experience. And here I am fucking the alter I worship like a damn heathen, and her the goddess summoning me to my knees in sick, unfiltered praise.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trap: A Dark Romantic Thriller

“No, because it is us. Everything we are and everything we pretend to be. It’s bloody. Messy. Impossible to contain. Loving you is war. But it’s the only battle that I’d come out a winner even if I lost. Because loving you, even if it ends in blood, is more than I deserve and everything I could have ever wanted. When everyone sees a monster, you see an equal. I know I’m broken. Fuck, I’m shattered, but with you, all my fucked up pieces feel whole, because they’re whole enough for you and that’s all I fucking need. So yeah, loving you is a blood sport and that’s something I’m fucking honored to experience with you.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trick

“There's nothing between us, aside from lust. Though the way lust can run rampant throughout the body, attacking the mind, consuming every thought, both waking and subconscious, I guess it can be just as dangerous if not more than love.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trap: A Dark Romantic Thriller

“That’s the beauty of Halloween, you have one night to let down your guard and lose yourself in the fantasy of being something you’re too afraid to be all the other nights of the year.”
― N.J. Weeks, Beneath The Dirt : A Psychological Erotic Horror Story

“As if I don’t harbor an immense amount of hatred for him already, he now has the nerve to touch my stereo? Which was just playing the song that helps me get in the zone before I commit murder? The fucking audacity.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trick

“I’ll play whatever games your heart desires. Build you a nightmare you can’t escape from and follow you like the incubus you crave. I’ll be your cover if you will be my curse. Now pick your favorite number?” My mouth falls open in confusion. “Number?” “Yes,” he motions his hand for me to hurry up. “Choose a number, Blair, we don’t have all night. There’s a body to hide.”  “Fine. How about fifteen?” “Eh, of course it’s fifteen,” he mumbles something else under his breath, clearly, he’s not a fan of the number. I’m about to change the number when he begins to speak again at a more audible volume. “It's a little higher than I wanted, but fifteen it is” he shrugs. “What do you mean?” I ask, my mind racing with what a fucking number has to do in a time like this.  He clears his throat, looking both haunting and comforting all in the same breath. “In fifteen years, if neither of us has killed the other, I will take what is mine.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trick

“Without further ado, Chef Santino Amato awaits you. Hope you like to be spoiled, pleased, and loved only the way a book boyfriend can.”
― N.J. Weeks, Indulging Temptation

“He thinks he's hurting me, but he's not. I could easily fight him off. I'm choosing not to because for one, I like it a little rough, and two, it irritates him that his tough guy act doesn't work on me. I see right through him. His jagged edges simply protect all those sweet parts that he thinks he needs to hide when, truthfully, he doesn't need to. Every tornado needs a reprieve in the form of a calm burst of sexy sunshine. And that's exactly what he is, light within my darkness, but of course, I can't let him know that otherwise we'll never get out of here.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trap: A Dark Romantic Thriller

“The crimson lights beaming down on us suit her. There's never been an invisible halo over her head. She's all horns, all attitude all the fucking time, and it's intoxicating how the devilish shade conforms to her every curve. She looks like damnation, and I've never wanted to fall deeper in the fiery pits of hell more than I do now. But if we want to get out of here, and more importantly, if I want to win whatever games await us. I need to ignore the painful surge of blood she sends to my dick and instead tap into the fury her antics cause in my veins, grating my every nerve.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trap: A Dark Romantic Thriller