Dearest Ivie (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #15.5)

by J.R. Ward

she was in a daze, clips from John Hughes movies going through her head, particularly from Pretty in Pink. Rich boy, poor girl, true love.

Night-to-night life, the plodding along at work, the paying of bills, the moderating of how much she spent and ate and drank, was an even metronome that, over time, would create a very nice existence for herself. But there was a black-and-white, monotoned quality to it all. When she had been kissing Silas, her movie had been in color and with full sound, IMAX all the way. And it was hard to transition back from that.

“A DeLorean?” “The professor’s time machine that flew in Back to the Future?”