Nora Night Quotes

I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep beside you each night,” Patch told me gravely. “I want to take care of you, cherish you, and love you in a way no other man ever could. I want to spoil you — every kiss, every touch, every thought, they all belong to you. I’ll make you happy. Every day, I’ll make you happy.

I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

I had fun last night," I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. "I'm officially in love with your sheets." "That the only thing you're in love with?" "Nope. Your mattress, too." Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. "My bed's an open invitation.

Helmer: I would gladly work night and day for you. Nora- bear sorrow and want for your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honor for the one he loves. Nora: It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done.

This isn’t about the Ravens. This is about you. This is about everything it took you to get to this point, everything it cost you, and everyone who laughed when you dared to dream of something big and bright. You’re here tonight because you refused to give up and refused to give in. You’re here where they all said you’d never be, and no one can say you haven’t earned the right to play this game. “All eyes are on you. It’s time to show them what you’re made of. There’s no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you’ve got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don’t know how to die quietly. Win because you don’t know how to lose. This king’s ruled long enough—it’s time to tear his castle down.

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void. - You've Got Mail

All eyes are on you. It's time to show them what you're made of. There's no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you've got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don't know how to die quietly. Win because you don't know how to lose. This king's ruled long enough—it's time to tear his castle down.

Love doesna always mean burning flashes o' passion. Sometimes, it's jus' the warmth o' yer hearts as they beat yer day together." ~Old Woman Nora to her three wee granddaughters on a cold winter's night.

My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also. You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over to me with a whore’s glow in your slumberous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover’s fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling’s cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly. Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.

Better, Cilla thought, to be alone on a quiet night than to be alone in a crowd. Much better.

His thoughts should have kept him up all night, but with his friends this close Neil couldn't worry about anything.

Kevin was silent for an endless minute, then said, "You should be Court." It was barely a whisper, but it cut Neil to the bone. It was a resentful goodbye to the bright future Kevin had wanted for Neil. Kevin recruited Neil because he believed in Neil's potential. He brought him to the Foxes intending to make a star athlete out of him. Despite his condescending attitude and his dismissals of Neil's best efforts Kevin honestly expected Neil to make the national team after graduation. Now Kevin knew it was all for naught; Neil would be dead by May. "Will you still teach me?" Neil asked. Kevin was quiet again, but not for long this time. "Every night.

He was the son of this bitchy book reviewer. Totally blasted my first book. Called all my lovely kinksters ‘sick’ and ‘abusive.’ So I got my payback by sickly abusing her youngest all night long.” “And you felt guilty about that?” “Not the sex. The note I sent Mom the next day.” “You sent his mother a note after you seduced her son? What did it say?” “It said...” Nora began, and paused for a breath. Not one of her prouder moments. “It said, ‘Your son gave me five stars last night. And five fingers.’” “You’re smiling.” “I’m trying so hard to feel bad about it. I swear to God I am.

What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said

My idea of a perfect day is a frozen custard at Shake Shack and a walk in the park. (Followed by a Lactaid.) My idea of a perfect night is a good play and dinner at Orso. (But no garlic, or I won't be able to sleep.) The other day I found a bakery that bakes my favorite childhood cake, and it was everything I remembered: it made my week.

Simple game—he’d fill a wineglass with one of his expensive reds and set it on the edge of the table. Then he would fuck me. Hard.” Nora grinned as Wesley flinched. “If I thrashed too much, or fought him and knocked the glass off…then the wine wasn’t the only red that we spilled that night.

He ended up in the dead center of the room, with Andrew on one side of him and Matt on the other. His thoughts should have kept him up all night, but with his friends this close Neil couldn't worry about anything. Neil studied Andrew's face until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He dreamed of facing his father on an Exy court, and in his dream the Foxes won.

Neil" might be an easily-spooked runaway, and "Nathaniel" was a hunted young man, but "Abram" was the one shielded from and untouched by his father's bloody business. Neil would pull on every murder he'd seen and every endless, desperate night, and he'd face Riko unflinching. It was the least he could do. It was all he could do.

Tis a sad day when ye ha' t' pinch yerself t' see if ye're awake or in th' midst o' a night terror. 'Tis a really sad day when ye have t' pinch yerself twice." Old woman Nora to her three wee granddaughters on a cold winter's night

Neil didn't know what the last straw was to break Kevin's chain, but apparently last night's spectacle wasn't born of drunken grandeur. Kevin had committed; there was no going back. He faced Castle Evermore now like it was just another worthless stop on his way to glory.

We found a table. Nora said: "She's pretty." "If you like them like that." She grinned at me. "You got types?" "Only you, darling - lanky brunettes with wicked jaws." "And how about the red-head you wandered off with at Quinns' last night?" "That's silly," I said. "She just wanted to show me some French etchings.

Michael, this is an order from your mistress. Tell me what you want. Now.” “I want Griffin.” The words came out immediately. She had trained him too well. “I want Griffin so much it hurts. I love him, Nora. I have never felt anything like this before. And it’s absolutely stupid because he’s rich and he’s perfect and amazing and I’m a nobody. I’m a nobody, and I’m in love with someone I can’t be with. He’s so beautiful. I can’t stop looking at him, I can’t stop thinking about him. I dream about him at night. And he’s the first thing I think about when I wake up. And I want to touch him so much. I want to touch his face and that fucking perfect hair of his. And his lips and his chest and his arms— and I think about those arms around me, and it’s humiliating how much I want that. And, God, I want to live in his bed. I want to spend the rest of my life underneath him. I want to feel him on top of me and inside me. And I want submit to him. I want to go down on my knees in front of him. I want to call him sir and wear his collar and kiss his fucking feet if he told me to. And I want to walk down the busiest street in New York with him holding hands so the entire world can see us together and know that I belong to him. I love Griffin, Nora. I’m in love with him. And I can’t be with him. But that’s… that’s it.” Michael turned his head and buried it a little deeper into the cleft of Nora’s neck and shoulder. He wanted to stay there so he wouldn’t have to look her or anyone in the eyes ever again. “You won’t tell him, will you?” “She doesn’t have to.

Neil didn't care how many hearts they broke that night. They'd beaten USC. When the Trojans lost to the Ravens next week they'd be eliminated from championships. The Foxes were going to finals, and that was the only thing that mattered. -

Torvald: I would gladly work night and day for you, Nora--bear sorrow and want for your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honour for the one he loves. Nora: But hundreds of thousands of women have done!

I want you to close your eyes and think about why you're here tonight. Don't tell me 'revenge' because you've already gotten it just by being here tonight. This isn't about Riko anymore. This isn't about the Ravens. This is about everything it took you to get to this point, everything it cost you, and everyone who laughed when you dared to dream of something big and bright. You're here tonight because you refused to give up and refused to give in. You're here where they all said you'd never be, and no one can say you haven't earned the right to play this game. All eyes are on you. It's time to show them what you're made of. There's no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you've got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don't know how to die quietly. Win because you don't know how to lose. This king's ruled long enough—it's time to tear his castle down.

There is no syllabus for life that outlines the steps you need to take to graduate to the next event. This life itself is the lesson and the test and there is no dean’s list and no gold stars. There is just the sum of your relationships and your actions, measured by how you feel when you lie down to go to sleep at night, and how many people heart your tweets. I

If I was home alone at night, I cooked myself an entire meal from one of these cookbooks. Then I sat down in front of the television set and ate it. I felt very brave and plucky as I ate my perfect dinner. Okay, I didn’t have a date, but at least I wasn’t one of those lonely women who sat home with a pathetic container of yogurt.

No one's said a word to them since they said we couldn't see you." Nathaniel's heart skipped a beat. The heat that gnawed at his chest was an ugly mix of gratitude and shame. He tried to speak but had to clear his throat before trying again. "But why? I've done nothing but lie to them. I willingly put them all in danger so I could play a little longer. They got hurt last night because of me. Why would they protect me now?" "You are a Fox," Andrew said, like it was that simple, and maybe it was. Nathaniel dropped his eyes and worked his jaw, fighting for a center he was quickly losing hold of.

The bad things that happen to you don’t have to mean anything at all. -Nora Halliday

I can give you my number," Marissa said. Neil didn't remember asking for it at any point that night. "What for?

Grown-ups get lonely at night, and they like to have someone to sleep with. Like Mom and Daddy do. I have my bear," she continued, referring to her favorite stuffed animal. "So I don't get lonely.

Ah, lassies, be sure ye make good decisions, firm and fast. Those who don’t know what they want get what they deserve. OLD WOMAN NORA OF LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT

Neil Josten, good morning. I suppose you've already heard the good news? As of eleven o'clock last night, your name is the third-highest search string for NCAA Exy strikers. That puts you right after Riko and Kevin.

Men," he said as he left. "I hate them. I've always hated them. You wonder why I always hang around with women and never with men, it's because men do things like this." He waved his hand vaguely at me and my stomach and jogged off into the night.

You never text good night.” “It’s not a real good one when you’re somewhere else.

There’s someone in town asking for directions to Bhaile Anois,” she said. “He checked in late last night at the inn.” Any and Dan exchanged uneasy glances. “What does he look like?” Amy asked. Fiona narrowed her eyes. “Sneaky, for certain,” she said. “And he’s quite a waster. Good for nothin’ but complaining. Nora over at the inn said he’s never satisfied with the temperature if his tea, and he asked for a cashmere throw in his room.” Any and Dan exchanged another glance. “IAN,” they said together, and sighed. “You know the eejit?” Fiona asked. “The eejit is our cousin,” Amy said. “Distant cousin,” Dan added. “Very, very distant.

The sky is dense with light, so many stars crowded against one another, it looks like the night is too small for them. How will they get out? I imagine they will hold hands to become morning.

I'm wanting the hell out of you. Day and night." Her voice was throaty now, dark with need. "I guess that makes it handy, since I want the hell out of you too." "It doesn't scare you?" "Nothing about you and me scares me." "And what if I said I want you to let me do anything I want to you? Everything?" Her heart fluttered to her throat, but her eyes stayed steady. "I'd say who's stopping you?

How was he supposed to let Wymack lock the door every night with both of them under the same roof? He couldn't possibly sleep here; every time Wymack breathed Neil would wake up and wonder who was after him.

Now if we're finished jousting over sex-" "Darling,I haven't even picked up my lance." "That's a very weak double entendre." She had him there. "It's early.why don't you tell me why i'm having breakfast with you." "I was up all night." The comment that occurred to him was not only weak,but crude.He let it pass.

You disgust me." "Like you have room to talk," Cathy said. "You're as much a whore as I am." Dan grabbed the hem of her shirt with both hands as she turned, in one easy move she peeled her tee and sports bra off and gestured at her bare chest. "Oh my god, you see these? They're called breasts. Does this make me a whore? This?" Dan jerked a hand between them, and Cathy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "This is what I do. I strip. I dance. I work a stage five nights a week. I give lap dances to creeps who can't get enough action on their own. But I don't let them touch me and I still make enough money to keep us afloat. Fuck you! I'm seventeen! I'm too young to be your mother!" "No one asked you to be my mother..." "I asked you to be mine. Thanks for failing so spectacularly at it.

Bring her back,hell,Grant thought, dragging a hand through his hair. He'd beg,plead,grovel, whatever it took to make her give him another chance. It was her fault, he decided with a quick switch back to fury. Her fault, that he was acting like a maniac. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in over two weeks.And the solitude he'd always prized was threatening to smother him.If he didn't find her soon, he'd lose what was left of his mind.

Neil stared back at him, suddenly lost. He was fluent in two languages, nearly there in a third, and could string together some useful survival phrases in a half-dozen more. But with the whole truth bared between them Neil didn't have the right words to say. "You should have thrown my file away," Neil said at last. "You should have walked away when I threw your contract back in your face. But you took a chance on me and you brought me here. You saved my life. Three times," Neil said, "you've saved my life. I can't just say 'thank you' for that." "You don't have to," Wymack said. "I brought you here, but you saved yourself. You're the one who decided to stay. You're the one who stopped being afraid long enough to realize you could get a grip here and a foothold there. You found your own way." "If anything," Wymack continued when Neil tried to protest, "I should be thanking you. You told us last night you intended to end the year dead or in federal custody. You could have shut everyone and everything out and worried about yourself this year. Instead you agreed to help Dan fix this team. You're saving the two I thought we couldn't reach, and you're a living example for Kevin to follow. He never used to watch you," Wymack said, "but he's had eyes on you since December trying to figure out how you stand your ground.

She's bucktoothed to an unfortunate degree.

Looking back on one’s life, you see that love was the answer to everything. I love you, Nora. I always will. And that we will have forever.

He remembered the weight and warmth of her burrowed against his side; he remembered her wide-eyed and unblinking stare as he read her stories late into the night. He could almost remember the sound of her voice as she begged him for one more chapter, but louder in his thoughts was the crack of his mother’s belt against bare skin when she realized overheard them.

In the end, Nora, there’s only time. All we have is time…and even if this wasn’t happening, we still don’t ever have much…no one does. We only have the moment we’re in. We have right now.

I would gladly work night and day for you, Nora—bear sorrow and want for your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honour for the one he loves. Nora. It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done.

Nora, biting her lip, pointed at the small end table on my right, where there was a black-and-white photograph in an antique silver frame. It was Olivia standing with her husband, Knightly, probably some twenty years ago. They had their arms around each other, posing beside an antique Bentley in front of a colossal country manor. They looked happy, but, of course, that didn't say much. Everyone smiles for a photograph.

If I was home alone at night, I cooked myself an entire meal from one of these cookbooks. Then I sat down in front of the television set and ate it. I felt very brave and plucky as I ate my perfect dinner. Okay, I didn’t have a date, but at least I wasn’t one of those lonely women who sat home with a pathetic container of yogurt. Eating an entire meal for four that I had cooked for myself was probably equally pathetic, but that never crossed my mind. I

Good night, Keeley." "Good night, Brian. Thanks for the ride." Adelia waited until the men were out, then turned to her daughter. "Keeley, I never would've thought it of you. You're tormenting the poor man." "There's nothing poor about that man." Delighted with herself, Keeley broke off a piece of bread and crunched down on it. "And tormenting him is so rewarding." "Well,there's not a woman with blood in her could argue with that. Mind you don't hurt him, darling.

Maybe she was really good at improv. I couldn't be certain she was nineteen or that her name really was Nora Halliday. Maybe she was like one of those sweaters with an innocent little thread hanging off of it: One pull, the whole thing unraveled.

Look,I'll pay you for a cup of coffee and the use of this-" she thumped a hand on the sofa and a soft plume of dust rose up "-thing for the night." "I don't take in lodgers." "And you'd probably kick a sick dog if he got in your way," she added evenly.

I met Zach’s wife today.” “Ah, the once and future Mrs. Easton. What did you think of her?” “I think he’ll go back to her.” Søren nodded. “That was inevitable.” Nora swallowed. “And last night meant nothing.” “I’m sure your night together meant a great deal to him. More than you may ever know. The same wind that blows us off course can turn and carry us home.” “She is his home. I could see that in her eyes. She’s perfect, Søren.” “Perfect for him perhaps. To me, Eleanor, it is you who is flawless.” Nora’s heart beat heavy in her chest. Søren’s love never ceased to humble her. “I’m as flawed as it gets.” “You are human. And that is the better part of your beauty. But you always knew your editor longed for his wife more than anything. This can’t be a surprise to you. What else?

You've a sentimental streak along with that iron,Keeley." "Yes,I do.And a latent romantic one." "Is that so?" he murmured, a little surprised when she turned and ran her hands up his chest. "Apparently.I didn't think you for riding to my rescue last night." "I don't recall riding anywhere." His lips twitched as she backed him out of the box. "In a manner of speaking.You cut a bully down to size for me.I was upset and worried about the gelding, so I didn't really think about it at the time.But I did later,and I wanted to thank you." "Well, you're welcome." "I haven't finished thanking you." She bit lightly on his bottom lip, heard his quick indrawn breath. "If that's what you have in mind, you could finish thanking me up in my bedroom." "Why don't I just show you what I have in mind? Right here." She had his shirt unbuttoned before he realized they were standing in an empty stall, freshly bedded with hay. "Here?" He laughed, taking both her hands to tug her out again. "I don't think so." "Here." She countered his move by ramming his back against the side wall. "I know so." "Don't be ridiculous." His lungs were clogged, and his mind insisted on following suit. "Anyone could come along?" "Live dangerously." She pulled the stall door shut behind them. "I have been,since I first set eyes on you.

A star dawns in the night. Life through life, blood through blood to shine its light. Through love he was given the gift of birth, and from breath to death will walk the earth. The other gift comes through blood and bone, and is for him to take and own. Charm of the moon, power of the sun. Never forgetting an it harm done.

watching kevin going at it in the middle of the night, fierce and merciless, was almost enough that neil forgave him. kevin was more demanding of himself than he was of anyone around him. he set his standards impossibly high and tried for them with everything he had, and he didn’t understand why others wouldn’t do the same. - narrator

May Lacey, wisps of thin grey hair appearing from under her hat, her scarf still around her neck, sat opposite Nora in the back room and began to talk. After a while, the boys went upstairs; Conor, when Nora called him, was too shy to come down and say good night, but soon Donal came and sat in the room with them, carefully studying May Lacey, saying nothing.

Don't you know that the less you tell someone, the more they want to know? You're better off to make something up than to say nothing at all." "I'm the youngest of twelve children of two South African missionaries," he said with such ease,she very nearly believed him. "When I was six,I wandered into the jungle and was taken in by a pride of lions.I still have a pechant for zebra meat.Then when I was eightteen,I was captured by hunters and sold to a circus.For five years I was the star of the sideshow." "The Lion Boy," Gennie put in. "Naturally.One night during a storm the tent caught fire.In the confusion I escaped.Living off the land, I wandered the country-stealing a few chickens now and again.Eventually an old hermit took me in after I'd saved him from a grizzly." "With your bare hands," Gennie added. "I'm telling the story," he reminded her. "He taught me to read and write. On his deathbead he told me where he'd buried his life savings-a quarter million in gold bullion. After giving him the Viking funeral he'd requested, I had to decide whether to be a stockbroker or go back to the wilderness." "So you decided against Wall Street, came here, and began to collect stamps." "That's about it." "Well," Gennie said after a moment. "With a boring story like that, I can see why you keep it to yourself." "You asked," Grant pointed out. "You might have made something up." "No imagination." She laughed then and leaned her head on his shoulder. "No,I can see you have a very literal mind.

You’re dreaming. That world is about as real as a Disney fairy tale. You might have lived like a princess, but most people don’t. Normal people suffer. They hurt, they die, and they lose their loved ones. And they hurt each other. They tear at each other like the savage predators they are. There is no light without darkness, Nora; the night ultimately catches up with us all.

Hello." Her mood deflated as if she'd been pricked with a pin. "Alan." "Shelby." She struggled not to be moved by the quiet,serious tone that should never have moved her.She liked men with a laugh in their voice. "Alan, this has to stop." "Does it? It hasn't even started." "Alan-" She tried to remember her decision to be firm. "I mean it. You have to stop sending me things. You're only wasting your time." "I have a bit to spare," he said mildly. "How was your week?" "Busy.Listen,I-" "I missed you." The simple statement threw the rest of her lecture into oblivion. "Alan, don't -" "Everyday," he continued. "Every night. Have you been to Boston, Shelby?" "Uh...yes," she managed, busy fighting off the weakness creeping into her. Helplessly she stared up at the balloons. How could she fight something so insubstantial it floated? "I'd like to take you there in the fall, when it smells of damp leaves and smoke." Shelby told herself her heart was not fluttering. "Alan, I didn't call to talk about Boston.Now,to put it in very simple terms,I want you to stop calling me, I want you to stop dropping by, and -" Her voice began to rise in frustration as she pictured him listening with that patient, serious smile and calm eyes. "I want you to stop sending me balloons and pigs and everything! Is that clear?" "Perfectly.Spend the day with me." Did the man ever stop being patient? She couldn't abide patient men. "For God's sake, Alan!" "We'll call it an experimental outing," he suggested in the same even tone. "Not a date." "No!" she said, barely choking back a laugh. Couldn't abide it, she tried to remember.She preferred the flashy, the freewheeling. "No,no,no!" "Not bureaucratic enough." His voice was so calm,so...so senatorial, she decided, she wanted to scream. But the scream bubbled perilously close to another laugh. "All right, let me think-a standard daytime expedition for furthering amiable relations between opposing clans." "You're trying to be charming again," Shelby muttered. "Am I succeeding?

Her soul! Her name! Her eyes! They seem to me like strange beautiful blue wild-flowers growing in some tangled, rain-drenched hedge. And I have felt her soul tremble beside mine, and have spoken her name softly to the night, and have wept to see the beauty of the world passing like a dream behind her eyes. — James Joyce, from a love letter to (of) Nora Barnacle, Selected Joyce Letters, ed. Richard Ellmann (Viking Press, 1975)

Three fractured ribs. Sprained LCL. Twisted ankle. Broken nose. That’s most of it.’ That’s most of it. Jeremy’s chest ached with tender grief. It was a heat normally reserved for game nights against their most violent opponents, a niggling sense of helplessness as people repeatedly tried to hurt a team that just wanted to have a good time. Jeremy powered his phone off before he could ask Kevin ‘Why?’ A reason wouldn’t take back what they’d done.

As he listened to them, Neil realized he was happy. It was such an unexpected and unfamiliar feeling he lost track of the conversation for a minute. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this included or safe. It was nice but dangerous. Someone with a past like his, whose very survival depended on secrecy and lies, couldn't afford to let his guard down. But as Nicky laughed and leaned closer to talk about one of Neil's goals, Neil thought maybe he'd be okay just for a night.

Two breads, left to rise overnight, had burst out of their pans like dancehall girls leaning over the rail. The sight of them sent a bolt of panic through Nora. She had mixed them last night in the grip of optimism, still listening for Emmett's wheels on the drive -- still counting on all the things water would allow, a long drink and laundry, perhaps even a bath -- and now here they sat: two bloated mistakes that had brought the entire household not one, but two, cups closer to the bottom of the bucket.

Before I go,I'd like to tell you something." Her voice was cool over flowing vowels. "It isn't often one finds one's first impression was so killingly accurate.The first night I met you,I thought you were a rude, arrogant man with no redeeming qualities." The wind blew her hair across her eyes and with a toss of her head she sent it flying back so that she could keep her icy gaze on his. "It's very gratifying to learn just how right I was...and to be able to dislike you so intensely." Chin high, Gennie turned and walked to her car.

But the first time I saw you. Rio. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn’t fit in any rooms. You were talking with Nora and June, happy and animated and fully alive, a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access, and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You weren’t even a president’s son yet, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire. And then I was a careless fool, and I fell in love with you anyway. When you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it? Sometimes, even now, I still can’t.

we can’t get through this year with this little misunderstanding between us, so we’ll take a night off and fix it.” ‘fix’ was a strange choice of words. neil knew one of them would have to break for them to get along, and he was pretty sure andrew understood that too. it was obvious andrew expected him to be the first to give ground. neil knew he should. it was past time to concede. but neil wanted to prove him wrong, no matter how stupid it was. “if i go, promise me you’ll never touch anything of mine ever again.” “so possessive.” “of course i am. everything i own fits in one bag.

In the passage of their lives together every object in the garden, every item in the house, every word they spoke, attested to their mutual love, the combining of their humuours. ... When the time came that Nora was alone most of the night and part of the day, she suffered from the personality of the house, the punishment of those who collect their lives together. Unconsciously at first, she went about disturbing nothing; then she became aware that her soft and careful movements were the outcome of an unreasoning fear - if she disarranged anything Robin might become confused - might lose the scent of home.

your team is ranked first? congratulations and big deal. maintaining a top position is far easier than starting over from the gutters. kevin is doing that right now. he’s facing entirely new schools and learning to play with his less dominant hand. when he masters it, and he will, he’ll be better than you could ever have made him. do you know why? it’s not just his natural talent. it’s because he’s with us. there are only ten foxes this year. that’s one sub for every position. think about it. last night we played blackenridge. they have twenty-seven people on their roster. they can burn through players as fast as they want because they have a pile of replacements. we don’t have that luxury. we have to hold our ground on our own.” “you didn’t hold your ground, you lost. your school is the laughingstock of the ncaa. you’re a team with no concept of teamwork.” “lucky for you. if we were a unified front, you wouldn’t have a chance against us.” “you cannot last and your unfounded arrogance is offensive to everyone who actually earned a spot in first class. everyone knows the only reason palmetto qualified for this division is because of your coach.” “funny, i’m pretty sure that’s how edgar allan qualified.” - neil & riko

This is perfect!" Gennie shouted over the motor as Grant's boat cut through the sea. "It feels like we could go all the way to Europe." He laughed and ruffled her wind-tossed hair. "If you'd mentioned it before, I'd have put in a full tank of gas." "Oh, don't be pracitcal-imagine it," she insisted. "We could be at sea for days and days." "And nights." He bent over to catch the lobe of her ear between his teeth. "Full-mooned, shark-infested nights." She gave a low laugh and slid her hands up his chest. "Who'll protect whom?" "We Scots are too tough.Sharks probably prefer more tender-" his tongue dipped into her ear "-French delicacies.

I could come down for a couple of days, Daniel,but I'd like to bring someone." "Someone?" Daniel's senses sharpened. He leaned forward with the cigar smoldering in his hand. "Who might this someone be?" Recognizing the tone, Grant crunched o a corn chip. "An artist I know who's doing some painting in New England, in Winty Point at the moment. I think she'd be interested in your house." She, Daniel thought with an irrepressible grin.Just because he'd managed to comfortably establish his children didn't mean he had to give up the satisfying hobby of matchmaking. Young people needed to be guided in such matters-or shoved along.And Grant-though he was a Campbell-was by way of being family... "An artist...aye,that's interesting. Always room for one more,son. Bring her along. An artist," he repeated, tapping out his cigar. "Young and pretty, too, I'm sure." "She's nearly seventy," Grant countered easily,crossing his ankles as he leaned against the wall. "A little dumpy, has a face like a frog.Her paintings are timeless, tremendous emotional content and physicality.I'm crazy about her." He paused, imagining Daniel's wide face turning a deep puce. "Genuine emotion transcends age and physical beauty, don't you agree?" Daniel choked, then found his voice. The boy needed help,a great deal of help. "You come early Friday,son. We'll need some time to talk." He stared hard the bookshelf across the room. "Seventy, you say?" "Close.But then true sensuality is ageless. Why just last night she and I-" "No,don't tell me," Daniel interrupted hastily. "We'll have a long talk when you get here. A long talk," he added after a deep breath. "Has Shelby-No, never mind," he decided. "Friday," Daniel said in a firmer tone. "We'll see about all this on Friday." "We'll be there." Grant hung up, then leaning against the doorjamb, laughed until he hurt. That should keep the old boy on his toes until Friday, Grant thought. Still grinning, he headed for the stairs. He'd work until dark-until Gennie.

The girl in the Four Seasons coat check was eating handfuls of colored jelly beans and reading a thin yellow paperback. I’d read in the witness report in Ashley’s police file that the coat-check girl’s name was Nora Halliday and she was nineteen. Every time a party of diners arrived—midwestern tourists, finance dudes, a couple so elderly they moved like they were doing a form of tai chi—she whisked off her black-rimmed eyeglasses, hid the book, and with a cheerful “Good evening!” took their coats. After they moved upstairs to the restaurant, she put her glasses back on, brought out the paperback, and started reading again, hunched over the counter of the stall.

Brian closed the condition book, pressed his fingers to his tired eyes. Like Paddy, he wasn't quite sure he trusted the computer, but he was willing to fiddle with it a bit. Three times a week he spent an hour trying to figure the damn thing out ith the notion that eventually he could use it to generate his charts. Graphics, they called it, he thought, shifting to give the machine a suspicious glare.Timesaving and efficient, if you believed all the hype. Well,tonight he was to damn tired to spend an hour trying to be timesaving and efficient. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a week. Which had nothing to do with his job, he admitted. And everything to do with his boss's daughter.

He needs to be talked to." "This is funny, but I know how to talk, too." Brian swore under his breath. "He prefers singing." "Excuse me?" "I said,he prefers singing." "Oh." Keeley tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Any particular tune? Wait, let me guess. Finnegan's Wake?" Brian''s steely-eyed stare had her laughing until she had to lean weakly against the gelding.The horse responded by twisting his head and trying to sniff her pockets for apples. "It's a quick tune," Brian said coolly, "and he likes hearing his name." "I know the chorus." Gamely Keeley struggled to swallow another giggle. "But I'm not sure I know all the words.There are several verses as I recall." "Do the best you can," he muttered and strode off.His lips twitched as he heard her launch into the song about the Dubliner who had a tippling way. When he reached Betty's box, he shook his head. "I should've known. If there's not a Grant one place, there's a Grant in another until you're tripping over them." Travis gave Betty a last pat on the shoulder. "Is that Keeley I hear singing?" "She's being sarcastic, but as long as the job's done. She's dug in her heels about grooming Finnegan." "She comes by it naturally.The hard head as well as the skill." "Never had so many owners breathing down my neck.We don't need them, do we, darling?" Brian laid his hands on Beetty's cheek, and she shook her head, then nibbled his hair. "Damn horse has a crush on you." "She may be your lady, sir, but she's my own true love.Aren't you beautiful, my heart?" He stroked, sliding into the Gaelic that had Betty's ears pricked and her body shifting restlessly. "She likes being excited before a race," Brian murmured. "What do you call it-pumped up like your American football players.Which is a sport that eludes me altogether as they're gathered into circles discussing things most of the time instead of getting on with it." "I heard you won the pool on last Monday nights game," Travis commented. "Betting's the only thing about your football I do understand." Brian gathered her reins. "I'll walk her around a bit before we take her down. She likes to parade.You and your missus will want to stay close to the winner's circle." Travis grinned at him. "We'll be watching from the rail." "Let's go show off." Brian led Betty out.

She'd gone and let her hair loose, he thought. Why did she have to do that? It made his hands hurt, actually hurt with wanting to slide into it. "That's good." She stepped in, shut the door. And because it seemed too perfect not to, audibly flipped the lock. Seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw was incredibly satisfying. He was a drowning man, and had just gone under the first time. "Keeley, I've had a long day here.I was just about to-" "Have a nightcap," she finished. She'd spotted the teapot and the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. "I wouldn't mind one myself." She breezed past him to flip off the burner under the now sputtering kettle. She'd put on different perfume, he thought viciously. Put it on fresh, too, just to torment him. He was damn sure of it.It snagged his libido like a fish-hook. "I'm not really fixed for company just now." "I don't think I qualify as company." Competently she warmed the pot, measured out the tea and poured the boiling water in. "I certainly won't be after we're lovers." He went under the second time without even the chance to gulp in air. "We're not lovers." "That's about to change." She set the lid on the pot, turned. "How long do you like it to steep?" "I like it strong, so it'll take some time. You should go on home now." "I like it strong, too." Amazing, she thought,she didn't feel nervous at all. "And if it's going to take some time, we can have it afterward." "This isn't the way for this." He said it more to himself than her. "This is backward, or twisted.I can't get my mind around it. no,just stay back over there and let me think a minute." But she was already moving toward him, a siren's smile on her lips. "If you'd rather seduce me, go ahead." "That's exactly what I'm not going to do." Thought the night was cool and his windows were open to it, he felt sweat slither down his back. "If I'd known the way things were, I'd never have started this." That mouth of his, she thought. She really had to have that mouth. "Now we both know the way things are, and I intend to finish it.It's my choice." His blood was already swimming. Hot and fast. "You don't know anything, which is the whole flaming problem." "Are you afraid of innocence?" "Damn right." "It doesn't stop you from wanting me. Put your hands on me,Brian." She took his wrist,pressed his hand to her breast. "I want your hands on me." The boots clattered to the floor as he went under for the third time.

The Lawrence cottage's about three quarters of a mile up on the left. You can't miss the turnoff unless you're hiking through a storm in the middle of the night with only a flashlight." Gennie swallowed a chuckle. Don't let him have any redeeming qualities, she pleaded. Let me remember him as a rude, nasty man who just happens to be fatally sexy. "I'll keep that in mind." "And I wouldn't mention that you'd spent the night at Windy Point Station," he added easily as he slipped the toolbox back into place. "I have a reputation to protect." This time she bit her lip to hold back a smile. "Oh?" "Yeah." Grant turned back, leaning against the truck a moment as he looked at her again. "The villagers think I'm odd. I'd slip a couple notches if they found out I hadn't just shoved you back outside and locked the door." This time she did smile-but only a little. "You have my word,no one will hear from me what a Good Samaritan you are. If anyone should happen to ask, I'll tell them you're rude, disagreeable and generally nasty." "I'd appreciate it.

Gennie looked over her shoulder as a Mercedes pulled to a halt beside them. The driver was in shadows, so that she had only the impression of dark, masculine looks while the passenger rolled down her window. A cap of wild red hair surrounding an angular face poked out the opening. The woman leaned her arms on the base of the window and grinned appealingly. "You people lost?" Grant sent her a narrow-eyed glare, then astonished Gennie by reaching out and twisting her nose between his first two fingers. "Scram." "Some people just aren't worth helping," the woman stated before she gave a haughty toss of her head and disappeared back inside. The Mercedes purred discreetly, then disappeared around the first curve. "Grant!" Torn between amusement and disbelief, Gennie stared at him. "Even for you that was unbelievably rude." "Can't stand busybodies," he said easily as he started the car agian. She let out a gusty sigh as she flopped back against the cushions. "You certainly made that clear anough. I'm beginning to think it was a miracle you didn't just slam the door in my face that first night." "It was a weak moment.

You look a bit tired,love; haven't you been sleeping well?" "I've been sleeping just fine," she lied. "I was out late last night." Deliberately she turned to him. "On a date." Alan controlled the swift surge of jealousy. Her ability to push the right buttons to get under his skin was no longer a surprise.He met the simmering gray eyes briefly. "Have a good time?" "I had a marvelous time. David's a musician, very senstive.Very passionate," she added with relish. "I'm crazy about him." David might have been surprised, as he was engaged to one of Shelby's closest friends, but she doubted the subject would come up again. "As a matter of fact," she continued with sudden inspiration, "he's coming by to pick me up at seven.So, I'd appreciate it if you'd just turn around and take me home." Instead of obliging as she hoped or raging as she expected, Alan glanced at his watch. "That's too bad.I doubt we'll be back by then." While Shelby sat in stony silence he pulled up to the curb. "Better put on your jacket; we'll have to walk half a block." When she neither moved nor spoke, he leaned across her as if to open the door. His mouth brushed over her ear. "Unless you'd like to stay in the car and neck.

It was his fault.She could put the blame for this entirely on Brian Donnelly's shoudlers.If he hadn't been so insufferable,if he hadn't been there being insufferable when Chad had called, she wouldn't have agreed to go out to dinner.And she wouldn't have spent nearly four hours being bored brainless when she could've been doing something more useful. Like watching paint dry. There was nothing wrong with Chad, really.If you only had,say,half a brain, no real interest outside of the cut of this year's designer jacket and were thrilled by a rip-roaring debate over the proper way to serve a triple latte,he was the perfect companion. Unfortunately,she didn't gualify on any of those levels. Right now he was droning on about the painting he'd bought at a recent art show. No,not the painting,Keeley thought wearily. A discussion of the painting,of art,might have been the medical miracle that prevented her from slipping into a coma.But Chad was discoursing-no other word for it-on The Investment. He had the windows up and the air conditioning clasting as they drove. It was a perfectly beautiful night, she mused, but putting the windows down meant Chad's hair would be mussed. Couldn't have that. At least she didn't have to attempt conversation. Chad preferred monologues. What he wanted was an attractive companion of the right family and tax bracket who dressed well and would sit quietly while he pontificated on the narrow areas of his interest. Keeley was fully aware he'd decided she fit the bill,and now she'd only encouraged him by agreeing to this endlessly tedious date.

He curled his fingers around the lip of the pot, and under the sick gelding they began a vicious little tug-of-war. He would have laughed, was on the point of it, when he looked at her face and saw that her eyes were wet. He let go of the pot so abruptly, Keeley fell back on her butt. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "I'm applying a non-irritating blister to a knee spavin.Now go away and let me get on with it.." "There's no reason to start that up. None at all." Panic jingled straight to his head, nearly made him dizzy. "This is no place for crying." "I'm upset.It's my stable.I can cry when and where I choose." "All right,all right,all right." Desperately he dug into his pockets for a bandanna. "Here, just blow your nose or something." "Just go to hell or something." Rather grandly, she turned her shoulder on him and continued to apply the blister. "Keeley,I'm sorry." He wasn't sure for exactly what,but that wasn't here nor there. "Dry your eyes now, a ghra, and we'll make this lad comfortable for the night." "Don't take that placating tone with me. I'm not a child or a sick horse." Brian dragged his hands through his hair, gave it one good yank. "Which tone would you prefer?" "An honest one." Satisfied the blister was properly applied,she rose. "But I'm afraid the derisive one you've used since we got here fits that category. In your opinion,I'm spoiled, stubborn and too proud to accept help." Though the tears appeared to have passed, he thought it wise to be cautious. "That's pretty close to the truth," he agreed, getting to his feet. "But it's an interesting mixture, and I've grown fond of it.

Old Woman Nora of Loch Lomond To her three wee Grandaughters one cold night.

Fitzgerald could take care of herself. Chapter 3 For the third morning in a row, Maggie was awakened by the sound of men and machinery outside her windows.

Arthur and Julie and Mark and Rachel. The Siegels and the Feldmans. It’s not just that we were best friends—we dated each other. We went steady. That’s one of the things that happens when you become a couple: you date other couples. We saw each other every Saturday night and every Sunday night, and we had a standing engagement for New Year’s Eve. Our marriages were tied together.

It pulled at her, as such scenes often did, and she found herself leaving the scent of coffee, grabbing her Nikon, and rushing out barefoot into the chilly night to photograph the deserted street. It soothed her as nothing else could. With a camera in her hand and an image in her mind, she could forget everything else.

You drag us all out of bed at two in the morning, you’ve got a reason.” “You kill somebody? Because if we’ve got to dispose of a body this time of night, we’d better get started.

We’ll have a ton of fun tracking down whatever insane shit we did last night. A regular Nick and Nora Charles, that’s us. Except without the insane amount of drinking and the murder mystery. Well. Without one of those things.

I thought he waited for you at the side door every night, then walked you back at dawn because you were holding a secret canasta tournament. You mean you’re having sex? I’m shocked.

Women curl up with books, guys stretch out

NORA AND LIBBY’S ULTIMATE READING LIST Incense and Sensibility by Sonali Dev The Roughest Draft by Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegemund-Broka Yinka, Where Is Your Huzband? by Lizzie Damilola Blackburn Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala A Special Place for Women by Laura Hankin A Thorn in the Saddle by Rebekah Weatherspoon Just Last Night by Mhairi McFarlane An Extraordinary Union by Alyssa Cole The Editor by Steven Rowley The Siren by Katherine St. John A Lot Like Adiós by Alexis Daria Verity by Colleen Hoover The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang Portrait of a Scotsman by Evie Dunmore The Fastest Way to Fall by Denise Williams So We Meet Again by Suzanne Park By the Book by Jasmine Guillory Payback’s A Witch by Lana Harper A Week to Be Wicked by Tessa Dare

May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door.

Garys droning on about how many hours they billed back in their day. And Nora wants to scream at them in the break room, “Things were different!” They billed for spending the night at the print shop, waiting for closing documents to be spat out and manually compiled. They billed the hours they slept on a plane traveling to in-person meetings. They counted the time spent driving to any number of legal libraries for archaic case law research that has now gone completely online, all while chitchatting on the road. Chitchat is now obsolete. In contrast, for every six-minute increment of their time billed, Nora and her peers sit hunched over computers. Meetings happen on-screen. She takes calls on the evening commute. Her email chimes just before bedtime. The volume of work she can handle in a day has more than doubled since Gary was a young attorney, and yet somehow Nora’s work ethic is the butt of every senior partner’s joke. Millennials, as a punchline, stands on its own.

Dad had gone ballistic when Ruby got suspended from school for smoking, but not Nora. Her mother had picked Ruby up from the principal’s office and driven her to the state park at the tip of the island. She’d dragged Ruby down to the secluded patch of beach that overlooked Haro Strait and the distant glitter of downtown Victoria. It had been exactly three in the afternoon, and the gray whales had been migrating past them in a spouting, splashing row. Nora had been wearing her good dress, the one she saved for parent–teacher conferences, but she had plopped down cross-legged on the sand. Ruby had stood there, waiting to be bawled out, her chin stuck out, her arms crossed. Instead, Nora had reached into her pocket and pulled out the joint that had been found in Ruby’s locker. Amazingly, she had put it in her mouth and lit up, taking a deep toke, then she had held it out to Ruby. Stunned, Ruby had sat down by her mother and taken the joint. They’d smoked the whole damn thing together, and all the while, neither of them had spoken. Gradually, night had fallen; across the water, the sparkling white city lights had come on. Her mother had chosen that minute to say what she’d come to say. “Do you notice anything different about Victoria?” Ruby had found it difficult to focus. “It looks farther away,” she had said, giggling. “It is farther away. That’s the thing about drugs. When you use them, everything you want in life is farther away.” Nora had turned to her. “How cool is it to do something that anyone with a match can do? Cool is becoming an astronaut…or a comedian…or a scientist who cures cancer. Lopez Island is exactly what you think it is—a tiny blip on a map. But the world is out there, Ruby, even if you haven’t seen it. Don’t throw your chances away. We don’t get as many of them as we need. Right now you can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. You can become so damned famous that they’ll have a parade for you when you come home for your high-school reunion…or you can keep screwing up and failing your classes and you can snip away the ends of your choices until finally you end up with that crowd who hangs out at Zeke’s Diner, smoking cigarettes and talking about high-school football games that ended twenty years ago.” She had stood up and brushed off her dress, then looked down at Ruby. “It’s your choice. Your life. I’m your mother, not your warden.” Ruby remembered that she’d been shaking as she’d stood up. That’s how deeply her mother’s words had reached. Very softly, she’d said, “I love you, Mom.

Would it be normal if she slipped some rosemary and crystals under Marco’s pillow to ensure he had a peaceful night’s sleep? Her normal, she decided, so she’d see to that.

Nora was always in movement because idleness didn’t suit her. In the quiet lived the worry, the loneliness, the fear that on some level, she’d let her brother down.

Her honest answer was, yes, this library was a shelter for anyone seeking knowledge, information, or connection. Like Marlene, like Nora. A place she wanted to share with other lost souls, whether they had a zip code or not.

One of these nights there will be a photo of him that reveals a trace of malice or, better, heartache on his face, and it will all make sense to me.

years on

He brought her no flowers, but she remembered he’d planted a willow tree. He gave her no smooth, clever phrases, but she remembered the look she’d sometimes catch in his eyes. He wasn’t a poet, he wasn’t a romantic, but that look, that one long, intense look, said more than most women ever heard.

All the nightmares that had ever plagued a woman alone in the dark loomed in her mind.