Kate Baxter

“From Chapter 1:

Isabel went into the kitchen. Their butterball of a beagle wagged his tail and peered up at her with his soulful brown eyes. He was eager to get his reward for looking cute as a button, and he knew she was a pushover.”
― Ed Lynskey, To Dye For

“Because we are the same,” I burst out. “You are not the only one of us with bloodied hands and a death on your conscience,” I reminded him, not bothering to disguise my anger. “Why must you do this? Why must you test me?” The tight muscle in his jaw relaxed into slackness. “I did not think to test you.” “Yes, you did. You do it every time you find yourself in danger of relying too much upon me, or hadn’t you noticed? You are so afraid of depending upon another soul that you will burn down your own house rather than risk someone else doing it. You are so determined to believe that your wounds make you less than human that you think yourself a monster when others are merely men. And whatever this bond that is between us, whatever this thing is that makes us akin to one another, you do not trust it. Because you do not trust yourself. But I am tired of the games, Stoker. And I am tired of your little monstrosities when I have atrocities of my own to account for.”
― Deanna Raybourn, A Treacherous Curse

“Will it ever be perfect?” I wondered. “No,” he told me with a smile. “Nothing in life is. But, my dear mademoiselle, life is not about achievement. It is about the effort. If one takes pleasure in every step, one enjoys the whole journey.”
― Deanna Raybourn, A Treacherous Curse

“A woman who feared being a cat lady had obviously never owned a cat.”
― Jacqueline Frost, Twelve Slays of Christmas