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Kevyn said, then the car slowed and stopped just in front of what looked like a wooden telephone box, but blue and on steroids. Portia was fairly certain Reggie had dressed up as one of those things for Halloween the year before, with the words police box around the top; it was from a TV show she loved.
Oh boy.
“There better not be any wives locked in the attic,” Portia muttered.
Yessssss
so you can roll up that ‘mission accomplished’ banner
Zing!
A passing fancy was one thing, but this jittery awareness of her felt both new and devastatingly familiar. Nope. Not dirtying my soles on that road again. The destination is always disappointment.
I love that he has felt the sensation before. Gives him maturity, and adds uniqueness.
Maybe there’s nothing wrong with you.” Portia paused the video again, tears stinging at her eyes as she tucked her phone into her bag.
Giving me Balogh vibes...feeling very moved by this character!
She ignored the way her breath caught and reminded herself that gruff was a synonym for “acts like an asshole because other people enable him.”
He’d admitted to being a bad boss, but the only thing he’d done to change it was growling slightly less when in her presence. Even that had him worried. Growls served as a warning to keep potentially dangerous creatures at bay. If he stopped, she might figure out that he was bloody terrified.
People focused so much on the prince slipping on Cinderella’s lost shoe that they didn’t realize the real happily ever after was the moment she realized she was brave enough to go to the damned ball alone in the first place.
That was the thing with creating something; you put some bit of yourself into it, if you did it well, but fuck if you could control what bit of yourself that was.
“We have a fantastic romance section,” she said. “Do you need recommendations? How do you like your dukes? Grumpy? Tortured? Alpha, beta, or alpha in the streets, beta in the sheets?”
I’m realizing. Realizing that I treated you unfairly and never really apologized for it. And that was when the only power I had was master-at-arms. If I’m going to think myself a better man than David, not being a bigoted wank stain is the lowest bar to clear. I need to do better. And I need to apologize, for real this time. So: Portia Hobbs, I’m sorry for being a shite boss and making you feel bad about yourself, and for doubting you just because I made a snap judgment. It wasn’t all right, and you’ve my word I won’t do it again.”
“God, we’re such a cliché right now,” Portia muttered. “Banging on the boss’s desk.”
This is so good I just realized it's the boss trope! That's one I like.
Johan had been nothing but a friend to him and he wasn’t going to repay him by using him as a convenient target when he was angry with himself.
Do you really think Portia can’t decide on her own what she wants? If you think your judgment is so much better than hers, maybe you should leave things as they are.”
