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“Some people think life is a game. I’ve always known it’s war.”
Too true
“I can’t do this,” she said. “You can.” “Fine. I don’t want to do this.” “Suck it up.”
“I don’t owe you shit, Roth. You cost me everything.”
He was the last person she wanted to see her like this, but grief didn’t care where she was. It wanted its pound of flesh.
It usually does. Obnoxious bitch.
“You feed my demons,” he rasped. “You created mine.”
She was the wood. He was the flame. After this, they would be ash.
“I have wet dreams about you,” she confessed, and his rhythm faltered. “You’re my favorite nightmare.”
She had fantasized about having a son that looked like him or a girl with his eyes. The fact that he had stolen even that dream from her made her want to rip his face off.
After spending most of her life following everyone’s rules, writing was the one place she was free.
Everyone needs a place where they can find the freedom to relax and just be.
Sarai’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile that pissed her off.
Damn! I'd slap a bitch!
Maybe a crazed hooker would take him off her hands.
Awesome! Lmao
It was okay for a man to be sexual, but the moment a woman reacted just as passionately, she became a whore. Fuck him.
“I’m busy.” “Your time is now my time.” “Not until I see a contract.” “You’re pushing me,” he said in an icy voice. “Whores always make sure they get paid first.”
“Within twenty-four hours of seeing you, I fucked you five times and jacked off on you twice.”
How did his dick not jump off his body and say fuck you asshole? Lol
“Even if you don’t sign, every time I see you, I’m gonna find a way to get you on your back. At least, this way, you’ll get something out of it other than a climax and material for your books.” “You ass!” Her hand swung but didn’t connect with his face since he caught her by the wrist. “You want me even though you claim to hate me. I fought long and hard for you, and you left me. I want my prize.”
Yup, he's an unmitigated asshole... Lucky girl *rolleyes*
The man watching her through the glass had a detached Hannibal-like quality forbidding enough to make any sane person walk away.
Her relationship with Roth was a tangle of lust, rage, bitterness, and satisfaction wrapped up in a history of blackmail, manipulation, and silence.
That's quite the laundry list. Fun times...
She got a turn with the baby and buried her face against the newborn who smelled like new beginnings and sunshine.
He switched from psychotic asshole to polite gentleman in the blink of an eye. He was a chameleon, adapting to those around him with ease while he herded her into a gilded cage.
“Keep your money, Roth. You’re going to need it for the next woman you buy.”
Damn! You tell him girl!
“When he asks why I didn’t sign, tell him it was because I didn’t like being insulted or told I’m not worth a larger settlement by a pushy attorney who doesn’t know his place.”
But the books that moved a reader emotionally were the ones where a writer sewed pieces of their soul into their work and dripped their blood on the page to give the characters life. Great writers sliced open their scars, sifted through their pain, and transcribed it on paper for the world to read and judge.
She splayed her hand on the glass, wanting to be a part of something stunning and tranquil instead of being herself.
