Shannon > Recent Status Updates

The figure in the road made no attempt to get out of the way. At the last moment, he raised his head, and I recognized Emmitt's face in the glare of the headlights. His eyes met mine, and I'll never forget the small smile that curved his lips.

That's not creepy or anything.

Oberon's thoughts returned and a flood of questions filled my mind.

: (

Oberon was ready to kill just about anything that moved. He'd been trying to intimidate Flidais's stags and found that they were not scared of him in the least, and it was practically making him rabid.
he told them.
they taunted him. Oh ho!

Most old souls I know think the attraction of modernity rests on clever ideas like indoor plumbing and sunglasses. But for me, the true attraction of America is that it's practically godless.

Sometimes I forget what I look like and I do something out of character, such as sing shepherd tunes in Aramaic while I'm waiting in line at Starbucks, but the nice bit about living in urban America is that people tend to either ignore eccentrics or move to the suburbs to escape them.

There are many perks to living for twenty-one centuries, and foremost among them is bearing witness to the rare birth of genius. [...] Someone shrugs off the weight of his cultural traditions, ignores the baleful stares of authority, and does something his countrymen think to be completely batshit insane. Of those, Galileo was my personal favorite. Van Gogh comes in second, but he really was batshit insane.

Irish Pronunciation Guide

Let it be known from the beginning that readers are free to pronounce the names in this book however they see fit. It's supposed to be a good time, so I do not wish to steal anyone's marshmallows by telling them they're "saying it wrong." However, for those readers who place a premium on accuracy, I have provided an informal guide ...

Kevin Hearne, I love you for this.

But Ian and I are grown-up people-he is twenty-seven, Isabella tells me, which puts him two years younger than I. I am not a virginal debutante sheltering behind her mama's skirts, and he is not a dark villain. We are simply a widow and a bachelor of the same age enjoying each other's company.

Ian cannot do something so simple as hold a woman's hand. He moves his thumb up my wrist and under my glove, finding points that shoot wild heat through my body. He caresses the inside of my palm with soft fingers, and then he threads his fingers through mine and holds hard, as though teaching me that my hand belongs there with his.

"And why the devil do you drag Mrs. Barrington into every conversation?"

THANK YOU. It was bugging me too.

Fellows asked Beth to marry him? What the deuce?!

While she held her skirts bunched in her hands, Ian scraped a curve-backed chair in front of her and sat down.

Lol, I love how he pulled up a chair, you know, in case he's down there for a long time.

He'd marry her for a very basic reason: to have her with him every night, every day, every afternoon, and every time in between.

Ian wanted her under his body, his heat meeting hers, to hear her gasp when he fitted himself inside her. He needed the oblivion of coupling with her until they both dissolved with the passion of it.

I like that verb - coupling. :D

"I don't take kindly to blackmail, either. I will take your warning as a concern for my safety, and we'll speak no more of the matter."
"Just so we understand each other, Mrs. Ackerley."
"You may go now, and we don't understand each other at all."
Fellows dramatically shoved open the pocket doors, only to find himself facing the wall that was Ian Mackenzie.

Awww, snap!

Beth warmed. "My lord, I do believe you are the most flattering man of my acquaintance."
Ian paused, his expression unreadable. "I state truths. You are perfect as you are. I want to see you bare, and I wish to kiss your cunny."

O_O

He kissed her like a lover, as if she were his courtesan. She imagined glittering, overly sensual ladies melting like ice on a hot sidewalk when Ian touched them. He feathered kisses onto Beth's cheekbones. His breath was hot, and she felt her body loosening, flowing like water.
"I shouldn't let you do this," she whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because I think you could break my heart."

"I learned it when I was eleven," he said.
"Quite a prodigy. I don't think I'd even seen a piano when I was eleven."
Beth leaned on the piano and smiled at him. "I'm certain your teachers were impressed."
"No. I was beaten for it."

Yikes.

Ian glanced at Curry's drawing and the lists. "Is this all?"
"Is it all?" Curry demanded of the air. "I drag myself across the continent of Europe, traveling in trains and musty cabs to be his eyes and ears, and he says, 'Is this all'? A little sympathy wouldn't be amiss, guv. What I put up with, working for you."

Lol, I like Curry.

Ian's thoughts strayed to Lily lying dead in her sitting room, her scissors through her heart. Curry had remained in London at Ian's request, and Ian expected his report any moment.

Wait, what? Did he actually kill the prostitute?

"Are you his model?" Beth didn't really think so, but this was Paris. Even the most respectable Englishwomen were known to throw propriety to the wind once they set foot on its avenues.
The lady glanced around and sat down next to Beth in the very spot Lord Mac had occupied yesterday. "No, my dear, I am not his model. I am very unfortunately his wife."

Heh, I like Mac's wife already.

Hmm. What does the inspector have against Ian?

"You make no sense, my lord. If you don't care about my fortune or whether I love you, why on earth do you wish to marry me?"

Ian reached for the curl again as though he couldn't stop himself. "Because I want to bed you."

"Have I got this right? You want me to come to your bed, but because I was once a respectable married lady, you must marry me in order to get me there?"

It's bothering me that she isn't pissed

I'm on my way home and I have a notebook full of scribbles that I need to translate into status updates: prepare for the deluge! Here's a link to all of my updates if they start to disappear into the ether.

"Bringing in lovers as deputies won't help your reputation, Blake." I sighed. "I know, Marshal Clark, but neither of them is just a pretty package. They'll be an asset to the case, or we wouldn't have flown them in." "They better be more than a booty call, Blake." Anita and Co. - I can't take you seriously when you're ok with a woman talking to you like this, but you go apeshit when a man says the same sort of thing.

I just read four pages of physical descriptions of her 6 bodyguards - their hair color - and how long or short it is plus how it's styled, eye color, skin color, height, how they stand, how much muscle they have, what clothing they're wearing ... Lord help me.

I finally have a deeper understanding of Bernardo's character, now that I know he can parallel park.