ancientreader

“He kisses the ski-jump tip that I hate, because of the way it makes me look like some startled small mammal sticking its nose out of a burrow. It’s been called cute, but that doesn’t make me more likely to forgive its effect on my profile. I’m thirty, which is around the age when ‘cute’ begins to look a little Baby Jane Hudson.”
― Jess Whitecroft, Burn Me

“Because he would leave. Oliver felt sure of that. You couldn’t plant a tumbleweed and expect it to yield grapes, no matter how perfect the terroir. The summer was slithering away and in a month or so it would be time for harvest. Then fall would turn the fields to fire and when the leaves fell they would travel halfway around the world to cold, pearly-gray Paris. And then what?”
― Jess Whitecroft, The James Dean Vintage

“I know getting Vegas married on cocaine is probably not the best start to a marriage”
― Jess Whitecroft, The James Dean Vintage

“Good lord, Henry. You’re almost as strange a creature as me. Perhaps stranger, because you look so wholesome and brown and bonny, like a pretty ploughboy. Whereas nobody could ever mistake me for anything but what I am.” “And what are you?” “I’m a thief,” said Jem. “And a whore. A molly. A mary-anne. That’s what they used to call us back in London, us boys who dressed as girls and called one another sister.”
― Jess Whitecroft, Reckless