Christie«SHBBblogger»

“Kev loved her. Not in the way that novelists and poets described. Nothing so tame. He loved her beyond earth, heaven, or hell. Every moment out of her company was agony; every moment with her was the only peace he had ever known. Every touch of her hands left an imprint that ate down to his soul. He would have killed himself before admitting it to anyone. The truth was buried deep in his heart.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Seduce Me at Sunrise

“Destiny is a pretty story we tell ourselves. Lurking beneath it there are only people, and the terrible choices we make.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“Those of you who are more than casually familiar with books -- those of you who spend your free afternoons in fusty bookshops, who offer furtive, kindly strokes along the spines of familiar titles -- understand that page riffling is an essential element in the process of introducing oneself to a new book. It isn't about reading the words; it's about reading the smell, which wafts from the pages in a cloud of dust and wood pulp. It might smell expensive and well bound, or it might smell of tissue-thin paper and blurred two-colour prints, or of fifty years unread in the home of a tobacco-smoking old man. Books can smell of cheap thrills or painstaking scholarship, or literary weight or unsolved mysteries.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“Time, it seemed, was a cruel albatross around the heart of those who loved and couldn’t have. Time always seemed to be saying . . . not yet . . . wait . . . wait . . . wait.”
― Pamela Sparkman, Reverend of Silence