Desire


Three Women
Giovanni’s Room
Simple Passion
Want
Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life
Mating in Captivity: Reconciling the Erotic and the Domestic
What Happens in Charleston... (Dynasties: The Kincaids #2)
Hot Westmoreland Nights (The Westmorelands, #18)
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
Call Me By Your Name (Call Me By Your Name, #1)
From Friend to Fake Fiancé (Mafia Moguls. #2)
A Billion Wicked Thoughts: What the World's Largest Experiment Reveals about Human Desire
Deceit, Desire and the Novel: Self and Other in Literary Structure
A Streetcar Named Desire
Lolita
Creep by Emma van StraatenWuthering Heights by Emily BrontëMoby-Dick or, The Whale by Herman MelvilleSky Daddy by Kate  FolkThe Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden
Obsession or Desire
52 books — 2 voters
Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur GoldenThe Art of Part Time Travel by Matthew LightfootRiding the Iron Rooster by Paul TherouxA Year in the World by Frances Mayes1,000 Places to See Before You Die by Patricia Schultz
If I Could?
29 books — 22 voters

A Taste of Paradise by Leslie KellyA Savannah Christmas Wish by Nan DixonTriple Dare by Regina KyleTalos Claims His Virgin / Christmas at the Chatsworth by Michelle Smart
Best Category Romance Novel 2015
4 books — 1 voter
A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee WilliamsAn Heiress's Guide to Deception and Desire by Manda CollinsThe Botany of Desire by Michael PollanDark Desires After Dusk by Kresley ColeDesire by Dana Gricken
Full of "Desires"
185 books — 5 voters

Neil Postman
We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares. But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Hu ...more
Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business

Cassandra Clare
She leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it between her own. The touch was like white fire through his veins. He could not feel her skin only the cloth of her gloves, and yet it did not matter. You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer.
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

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