Ginger Talbot



Average rating: 4.25 · 5,403 ratings · 704 reviews · 10 distinct worksSimilar authors
Tamara, Taken (Blue-eyed Mo...

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Thirty Days of Shame

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The Trials of Tamara (Blue ...

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Thirty Days of Hate

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Thirty Days of Pain

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Matteo: A Dark Mafia Hate S...

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Camille, Claimed (Blue-eyed...

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At His Bidding

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Diego: A Dark Mafia Hate St...

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The Blue-eyed Monsters (3 B...

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More books by Ginger Talbot…
Thirty Days of Pain Thirty Days of Shame Thirty Days of Hate
(3 books)
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4.40 avg rating — 2,187 ratings

Tamara, Taken The Trials of Tamara Camille, Claimed
(3 books)
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4.25 avg rating — 2,118 ratings

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“These days, there are other names for us besides predator—more civilized ways to describe us. More scientific. The one that fits me the best is a name that’s flung about far too casually these days, but it’s accurate in my case. Psychopath.”
Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“Ever since mankind first learned to bang rocks together and spark fire, people have been driven to define themselves, to build neat little boxes and climb inside.
They divide themselves up by religion, race, nationality. And even that’s not enough. They make the boxes smaller and smaller. They come up with all kinds of bullshit ways to categorize themselves. Introverts, extroverts. Leaders, followers. Morning people, night owls.
It’s part of the human condition—the desperate desire to figure out where you belong. To know the truth of who you are, what you are.
Me? I’d kill anyone who tried to put me in a box. And I learned the only two important distinctions very early on.
Predators, or prey.
Eat, or be eaten.
What difference does it make if you’re an introverted morning person…if you’re gurgling your last breaths through the wide-open smile that I’ve carved in your throat?”
Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“I watched my brothers, both older and younger, those less worthy, fall one by one. Did I feel anything as I watched them gasp their final breaths? I don’t know anymore. I don’t remember what feelings feel like. They’re not useful to predators.
With each death, my father’s gaze burned with scorn. My mother’s lips quivered, and tears shimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t shed a single one. My father was a predator. She didn’t want him to devour her.
I learned the lessons my father taught us, and I adapted, and I alone survived.
A predator doesn’t ask. He takes.
A predator knows no fear.
A predator is a hunter, and a hunter needs prey.
A predator can only win if someone else loses”
Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

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