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Martina
https://www.goodreads.com/inhobbnaqra
“It's shame that lines my pockets, shame that keeps the Barrel teeming with fools ready to put on a mask just so they can have what they want with no one the wiser for it. We can endure all kinds of pain. It's shame that eats men whole.”
― Crooked Kingdom
― Crooked Kingdom
“She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest.”
― The Assassin's Blade
― The Assassin's Blade
“He grasped her by the wrist , running a thumb along the sensitive skin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two"
She grinned but someone was suddenly between them, a tall, powerfully built person. Sam. He ripped the stranger's hand off of her wrist. "She's spoken for," he growled, all too close to the young man's maked face. The stranger's friend was behind him in an instant, his bronze eyes fixed on Sam.
Celaena grabbed Sam's elbow. "Enough," she warned him.
The masked stranger looked Sam up and down, then held up his hands. "My mistake," he said, but winked at Celaena before disappeared into the crowd, his armed friend close behind.
Celaena whirled to face Sam. "What in hell was that for?"
"You're drunk," he told her, so close her chest brushed his, "And he knew it, too."
"So?" Even as she said it, someone dancing wildly crashed into her and set her reeling. Sam caught her around the waist, his hands firm on her as he kept her from falling to the ground.
"You'll thank me in the morning."
"Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable of handling myself." His hands were still on her waist.
"Let me take you home.”
― The Assassin and the Underworld
She grinned but someone was suddenly between them, a tall, powerfully built person. Sam. He ripped the stranger's hand off of her wrist. "She's spoken for," he growled, all too close to the young man's maked face. The stranger's friend was behind him in an instant, his bronze eyes fixed on Sam.
Celaena grabbed Sam's elbow. "Enough," she warned him.
The masked stranger looked Sam up and down, then held up his hands. "My mistake," he said, but winked at Celaena before disappeared into the crowd, his armed friend close behind.
Celaena whirled to face Sam. "What in hell was that for?"
"You're drunk," he told her, so close her chest brushed his, "And he knew it, too."
"So?" Even as she said it, someone dancing wildly crashed into her and set her reeling. Sam caught her around the waist, his hands firm on her as he kept her from falling to the ground.
"You'll thank me in the morning."
"Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable of handling myself." His hands were still on her waist.
"Let me take you home.”
― The Assassin and the Underworld
“He'd loved her so much that she still felt the echoes of it, even now.”
― Crown of Midnight
― Crown of Midnight
“Two black boots came into view, then a pair of knees as someone crouched on the edge of the ring.
“Get up,” Chaol whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. It was over.(...)
“Get up,” Chaol said again, louder. She could only stare at the white line of chalk that marked the ring.(...)
“Celaena,” Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. “Celaena,” he breathed, his voice laced with pain—and hope. This was all she had left—his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of that line.
Moving her arm made sparks dance before her eyes, but she extended it until her fingertips reached the line of chalk, and stayed there, not a quarter of an inch from Chaol, the thick white mark separating them.
She lifted her eyes to his face, and found his gaze lined with silver. “Get up,” was all he said.
And in that moment, somehow his face was the only thing that mattered. She stirred, and couldn’t stop her sob as her body erupted with pain that made her lie still again. But she kept her focus on his brown eyes, on his tightly pressed lips as they parted and whispered, “Get up.”
― Throne of Glass
“Get up,” Chaol whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. It was over.(...)
“Get up,” Chaol said again, louder. She could only stare at the white line of chalk that marked the ring.(...)
“Celaena,” Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. “Celaena,” he breathed, his voice laced with pain—and hope. This was all she had left—his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of that line.
Moving her arm made sparks dance before her eyes, but she extended it until her fingertips reached the line of chalk, and stayed there, not a quarter of an inch from Chaol, the thick white mark separating them.
She lifted her eyes to his face, and found his gaze lined with silver. “Get up,” was all he said.
And in that moment, somehow his face was the only thing that mattered. She stirred, and couldn’t stop her sob as her body erupted with pain that made her lie still again. But she kept her focus on his brown eyes, on his tightly pressed lips as they parted and whispered, “Get up.”
― Throne of Glass
Martina’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Martina’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
200 books
|
1,561 friends
263 books
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1,304 friends
316 books
|
877 friends
157 books
|
21 friends
88 books
|
4 friends
300 books
|
6 friends
96 books
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12 friends
1 book
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11 friends
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