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349 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 16, 2007
“I told you, Ms. Lane, never believe anything’s dead—”
“—I know, I know, until you’ve ‘burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them,’
“I couldn’t tell the difference between the two of you anymore!” he roared.
I smashed my fist into his face. Lies roll off us. It’s the truths we work hardest to silence. “Then you weren’t looking hard enough! I’m the one with boobs!”
“I know you’re the one with boobs! They’re in my fucking face every fucking time I turn around!”
“Maybe you need to get a grip on your libido, Barrons!”
“Fuck you, Ms. Lane!”
“You just try. I’ll kick the shit out of you!”
“You think you could?”
“Bring it on.”
He grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt, and dragged me up against him until our noses touched. “I’ll bring it on, Ms. Lane. But remember you asked for it. So don’t even think about trying to tap out on the mat and quit the fight.”
“You hear anybody crying ‘Uncle’ here, Barrons? I don’t.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“One day you may kiss a man you can’t breathe without, and find breadth is of little consequence.”
“The first promise we had to make ….. was that under no circumstances would we ever let either of you set foot in Ireland.”
”You don’t sound Scottish.”
“You don’t sound Irish. Yet here you are, policing Ireland. But then the English have been trying to cram their laws down their neighbour’s throats for centuries, haven’t they inspector.”
She’s my daughter, you prick and if you’re thinking about your prick when you’re looking at her, I’ll rip it off and hang you by it.”
If he’d been any other man and I’d been any other girl, I’d have called the narrowing of his heavy-lidded eyes lust. But he was Barrons and I was Mac, and a blossoming of lust was about as likely as orchids blooming in Antartica.
I almost broke into a rousing, emotional “Danny Boy” and I didn’t even know the words.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
YOUR JOY CAN FILL YOU ONLY AS DEEPLY AS YOUR SORROW HAS CARVED YOU
It's a strange new world out there and the rules have changed: It's every princess for herself.Ive discovered why I've been sucked into this series. I can't predict or classify the characters. In a world where literary characters are painfully formulaic, Karen Marie Moning is blazing her own wild road with this series and I'm just happy to be taken along for the ride.
I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn’t deserve white, and I was sick of black.Mac is beginning to undergo a through mental and physical transformation. On the physical side, she's turned into black-ops Barbie by her handler.
Barrons has something the rest of us don't have. I don't know what it is, but I feel it all the time, especially when we're standing close. Beneath the expensive clothes, unplaceable accent, and cultured veneer, there's something that never crawled all the way out of the swamp. It didn't want to. It likes it there.I have my predictions about who and what I think Barrons is, but I won't post them here because I don't want any of you lovely readers to confirm or deny my suspicions. I'd like for the reveal of Barrons to play out naturally as the author intended.
"Hope is a critical thing. Without it, we are nothing. Hope shapes the will. The will shapes the world. I might have been suffering a dearth of hope but I had a few things left: will, desperation in spades, and a chance."
"Being touched by Jericho Barrons with kindness makes you feel like you must be the most special person in the world. It's like walking up to the biggest, most savage lion in the jungle, lying down, placing your head in its mouth and, rather than taking your life, it licks you and purrs."
"Question: When you're one of the few people who can do something to fix a problem, just how responsible does that make you for it?
Answer: It's how you choose to answer that question that defines you."
❓What intentions and goals do Barrons / V’lane, the "death-by-sex" fae / the Lord Master / Rowena / the Druids have?
❓What exactly does the Sinsar Dubh, that super evil book of black magic everyone covets, do?
❓And again the mystery remains: What/who is Barrons? (And what is the Lord Master, by the by?)