Grace

“And when he was being made, whoever was in charge decided to grace him with height, and thick dark hair, and . . . glutes. High, tight glutes. Frankly, it’s kind of rude and offensive if you ask me.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

“If this doesn’t win us first place, I’m firing you,” I say from the side of my mouth to Max. “Trust me, this is going to get us first place. Sherry is going to lose her mind when she gets a hold of these bodacious bods.” “Can you not say dumb shit like that?” “It’s true, though. Farm chores have done us a lot of good. Get ready to be ogled.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

“This is what a high feels like. This effervescent, light, practically airless feeling pulsing through my veins as I levitate out of bed, toe on my slippers, curtsy to that bitch Samantha, and then head down the creaky stairs, the smell of coffee leading the way. Wow.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

“From this position, I’m close enough to see tiny peach fuzz hairs on her thighs, the subtle shift of muscle under supple skin. She has a scar on her right knee that looks like it’s from childhood, freckles scattered about. I try very hard not to look at the seam of her shorts, but I fail, my attention ticking there long enough to memorize the denim swell of her pussy, how her inner thighs are extra soft the higher they go.”
― Tessa Bailey, Merry Ever After