Rachel Amber Quotes

She has beautiful eyes,” he says softly, like he’s lost to memory. “They’re brown and green and amber, like every color of every season. I’ve looked everywhere for eyes like hers, and nothing has ever been able to compare.

...and then I’m spiraling again. In the light, his freckles are almost glowing, his hair is a golden amber. Everything about him is softer nearly to the point of appearing blurry, like I cant tell who this new version of Neil McNair is, leaving me more uncertain than ever.

His smile fades into something sadder. “She has beautiful eyes,” he says softly, like he’s lost to memory. “They’re brown and green and amber, like every color of every season. I’ve looked everywhere for eyes like hers, and nothing has ever been able to compare.

Thank God, he half smiles at that. “Only the best for Rowan Roth,” he says, and then I’m spiraling again. In the light, his freckles are almost glowing, his hair a golden amber. Everything about him is softer nearly to the point of appearing blurry, like I can’t quite tell who this new version of Neil McNair is, leaving me more uncertain than ever.

To the east, the cloud tore open and a low belt of polished silver light broke through. Harold stood and watched as the mass of gray split again and again, revealing new colors: blue, burnt amber, peach, green, and crimson. Then the cloud became suffused with a dulled pink, as if those vibrant colors had bled through, diluting as they met. He couldn’t move. He wanted to witness every change. The light on the land was gold; even his skin was warm with it.

version of Amber.

We ran that company together, Amber,

I'm standing so close I can smell him, something familiar in the warmth of his skin--- the faintest whiff of his cologne with traces of warm amber and woody, resinous cedar and an underlying herbaceous, peppery note of olive oil that seems to be a part of his essence. I lean closer, my nose brushing his skin, and he pulls back enough to look at me incredulously. "Are you sniffing me?" I giggle, half-embarrassed at being caught out. "Sorry, you smell delicious," I tell him a little flirtatiously. "Oh, do I?" He watches me, intrigued. "What do I smell like?" "Like warm honey and the sticky sap of a cedar tree.

He smells like amber and cedar overlaid by sun-warmed soil and almost-ripe olives. In a word, delicious.