Natbtwsheets

“Who?” The question escaped me, and I fucking prayed he wouldn’t answer. His gaze narrowed as he took a sip of whiskey. “Oscar Perez. Colombian.” We stared at each other, and the cold bit into my chest. “This problem with the Mexicans has fucked some of my connections with suppliers. Oscar has been an . . . acquaintance for a while. He has good product, but he wants Elena.”
― Danielle Lori, The Sweetest Oblivion

“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” I swallowed. “And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.” He slammed the door behind him.”
― Danielle Lori, The Sweetest Oblivion

“My mamma had taken a bottle of wine and a Xanax up to her room, and she hadn’t made an appearance below stairs in hours.”
― Danielle Lori, The Sweetest Oblivion

“There was a wooden counter between two tall cabinets; long-handled skillets and kettles hung from pegs on the log and mud walls. I felt as if I’d slipped back in time, and shivered, realizing I was standing in the doorway of the original cabin, the very first house ever built on Watch Hill. The air here was surprisingly fresh, cool, and dry, with none of the musty odor of the chute.”
― Karen Marie Moning, The House at Watch Hill