More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
July 6 - July 6, 2023
It’s like one of my Pinterest boards sprouted legs and hopped into this bedroom.
his arms are cemented around me, like we’re two trees that have grown together, trunks tangling upward, linked forever.
That smile is just like a lasso, perfectly thrown, tightening around my poor heart and bringing me down to my knees.
Her penmanship is classic cheerleader handwriting, each letter happy and bright.
It’s like she’s skipped right down into my soul’s wine cellar and uncorked a rare bottle of merlot.
I’m like a starving dog, hanging out under her table for the smallest scrap.
becoming the best student of this woman I can, because I have big plans to ace this class and go on to get my doctorate in all things Delilah.
she's a scared rabbit who has spotted the fox.
I’ve missed an opportunity, letting it wink out like a dying star.
It’s the proximity to the man one room over that has me flopping around like a trout on a riverbank.
The man could probably crawl out of a dumpster and still make my stupid heart pitter-patter.
Apollo lets out a snore that sounds like a bear.
Thayden’s like a dog and my past is a big, juicy bone.
Most couldn’t get past my defenses.” He chuckles. “You do have a pretty deep moat. And a sturdy castle wall. The flaming arrows are also a nice deterrent.”
because my skin cannot handle any more of his light touch. I swear I’m about to start glowing like a nuclear reactor.
The man is turning me to mush.
a falsetto that sounds like an ostrich dying.
friends don’t let friends sing tone-deaf.”
He finished mowing the lawn shirtless, and I almost had to spray myself down watching him.
“Are you standing outside with a bunch of hot firemen hitting on you?”
The rugged sound of Thayden’s voice, the spark of jealousy I hear in it, has my stomach tumbling like clothes in a dryer.
Heated joy?
heated joy
do I need to roll my shirt sleeves up? My biceps feel left out.”
They’re like wolves smelling the alpha’s pheromones in the air,
I want to lean into his touch, to climb him like my own personal extension ladder.
The green of his eyes is a stormy sea, and my breath hitches.
at the end of a year of marriage, she plans to return me.
She elbows me in the side. I grin, because that pointy elbow will get me a hug, hand hold, or cuddle on the couch.
“I like the sound of ending in the bedroom,” I say, only because I know it will earn me a smack on the arm. Instead, she goes for the back of my head. “That’s ten minutes of cuddling,” I say, pulling out my phone to make a note. Like I’d forget.
I watch her study a row of bath mats. If I could, I would run this scanner over Delilah, locking every feature into my personal wish list. Her golden hair—scanned with a beep. Mine. The delicate line of her neck. Beep. Mine.
I hold her gaze like a man gripping a rope as he dangles over a canyon.
What would it take to make you feel at home? Like it’s your home too?” What would it take to make you know that you’re mine?
Laughing a little, she swats at my arm. Another five minutes tonight. And she knows it too, seeing my expression shift into something slightly smug.
The man is like a pie set out in a window to cool, and I want to take a big bite.
My cheeks are two red suns, blazing with jealousy and an anger stemming from I don’t know where.
can hear my accent slipping, like it’s been let out of its cage.
sniffing the air like a puppy.
She’s like the conversation crossing guard, rerouting traffic around a massive pothole that she doesn’t want me to see.
Ella sits at the head of the table, like a tiny queen.
My heart climbs my throat like it’s a rock wall,
hope, is a small paper boat, bobbing and listing on the water. It’s cheerful with its perfectly creased corners, happily moving along. But the boat is not in a stream. It’s in the water running along the gutter, and I see the sewer drain up ahead, ready to suck it down. And are those … yellow eyes??
a duct tape negligee she made herself, complete with a little bunny tail,
She’s like a starfish, suctioned onto our bodies with a million arms.
He gives us a sheepish look over her shoulder as she tries to scale his body like a climbing wall.
She sounds like a dog that’s been kicked one too many times.
She seems like a ticking time bomb. Like Lindsay Lohan, in mom form.
“Queen of Lies! Queen of Slime! Queen of Putrescence!”
Shame tastes like charcoal and ashes in my mouth.
His chuckle is like a key, turning over some rumbling engine in my chest, starting it up.
