Sevda Mammadova

“Call us even. Call me crazy. I don’t care. Just…” His eyes are pleading, brimming with emotion. “Just call me yours.”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless

“You don't regret it?"
She shakes her head, her smile sad, "No."
"Good," I murmur. "Because I've always had a thing for short hair."
"Oh, really?" She laughs as I sway us in a circle.
"It's true. Among other things, of course." I shrug a shoulder. "Short hair. Ocean-blue eyes. Twenty-eight freckles. And"- I pause, examining her with a tilt of my head-"how tall are you?"
She blinks in confusion. "Umm, about five and a half feet?"
"Five and a half feet," I continue evenly. "The terrifying ability to kick a man's ass. Stunning smile. Ridiculously stubborn. Hair like molten silver. Quick to threaten me with a dagger." I smile down at her. "Should I go on?”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless

“I came to see you,” Jameson told me. “Every day. The least you could have done was wake up while I was here, tragically backlit, unspeakably handsome, and waiting.”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Hawthorne Legacy

“You promised to be my undoing,” I murmur, lowering my head close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath. “So, prove it.” Her face angles up toward mine, our noses brushing. She never lowers her dagger, and the point of her blade still draws blood from my throat. “Prove it,” I repeat, voice quiet. “Hate me enough to make me want you.” I cup her jaw, feeling her eyes burning into mine. “Ruin me.” Our mouths crash together.”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless