Highest Bidder (Salacious Players Club, #5)

by Sara Cate

Grief is a ruthless predator,

His thick forearms are on display, and I briefly wonder to myself if this is what seeing cleavage is like to men.

“But the things I want to do to you, baby girl, are dirty, filthy things. And you’re too fucking sweet for me.”

“I’m not wasting it if I’m enjoying it,”

I can’t seem to understand why all the happy things that happen to me suddenly feel like sad ones.

the guilt I felt for being happy kept me from ever being truly happy.

Night will come eventually, but for now, I want to bask in the sun.

I want her to always be well-rested, well-fed, and well-fucked.

Life is nothing but a series of days in which you work, grieve, sleep, and eventually die.

Happiness is dangerous. The more you have, the more that’s at stake.

The higher you feel, the further you fall.

what is joy if we don’t know the opposite?

convincing yourself that someone else has it worse doesn’t actually make you feel better. Because sadness is just…all around. And I don’t mean in just these meetings, but everywhere. No one is really immune or safe from sadness. No one has perfect, poetic lives.

while sadness does permeate the air nearly everywhere, so does joy.

love could be just a memory, and it wouldn’t make it any less perfect or significant.

the only guarantee in life is that it won’t happen the way you think it will,