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“Last night there was intermittent rain, a gusty wind.
Deep sleep did not relieve me of
The last effects of wine.
I ask the maid rolling up the blinds,
But she replies: "The crab-apple is lovely as before."
"Don't you know?"
"Oh, don't you know?"
"The green should be plump and the red lean?”
―
Deep sleep did not relieve me of
The last effects of wine.
I ask the maid rolling up the blinds,
But she replies: "The crab-apple is lovely as before."
"Don't you know?"
"Oh, don't you know?"
"The green should be plump and the red lean?”
―
“I never use the word 'sex' in my novels - that is not what romance is about. It's about love and emotion. All my stories were different but they all had a happy ending - the perfect finish to any romance.”
―
―
“Her cheeks burned afresh at the memory of that final night before
her departure from Sibu. She had gone to his berth out in the
saloon and pleaded with him to let her stay—sinking every last
vestige of pride in her desperation to be with him. Only he hadn't
cared. He'd told her roughly to get back to her cabin and stop
making a fool of herself. Next time he needed a woman, he had
said, he would make sure it was one and not some silly little girl
with romantic notions.”
― Jungle Island
her departure from Sibu. She had gone to his berth out in the
saloon and pleaded with him to let her stay—sinking every last
vestige of pride in her desperation to be with him. Only he hadn't
cared. He'd told her roughly to get back to her cabin and stop
making a fool of herself. Next time he needed a woman, he had
said, he would make sure it was one and not some silly little girl
with romantic notions.”
― Jungle Island
“We can spend out lives letting others dictate our narrative, and cast ourselves as the victims. Or we can realize the truth: that we are the creators of our own story.”
―
―
“Stepping down from the swing,
Languidly she smooths her soft slender hands,
Her flimsy dress wet with light perspiration
A slim flower trembling with heavy dew.
Spying a stranger, she walks hastily away in shyness:
Her feet in bare socks,
Her gold hairpin fallen.
Then she stops to lean against a gate,
And looking back,
Makes as if sniffing a green plum”
―
Languidly she smooths her soft slender hands,
Her flimsy dress wet with light perspiration
A slim flower trembling with heavy dew.
Spying a stranger, she walks hastily away in shyness:
Her feet in bare socks,
Her gold hairpin fallen.
Then she stops to lean against a gate,
And looking back,
Makes as if sniffing a green plum”
―
Kay’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Kay’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
More friends…
Gothic Romantic Suspense of a Bygone Era- Victorian Mansions, Mysterious Manors, Haunted Chateaux, Sinister Castles, Rambling Estates, Governesses, Heiresses, Mistresses, and Brooding Atmospheres
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