Tis The Season For Revenge Quotes

What brings joy should never be embarrassing

And he’s right: I am too much. I am too much for him because he always should have deserved less.

To all the girls who knew Elle was always too good for Warner. And for all the girls who were told they were “too much.” Let him go find less.

My sister taught me many things, but the most important was one she showed me rather than told me: never to let the assholes see you fall apart.

Your own experience is not less because mine was more.

When we turn left, he switches sides, making sure he’s on the side of the street and I’m toward the buildings.

To empathize with someone, you don’t need to have lived the same story.

Realizing that you survived on scraps of affection and convinced yourself it was a whole meal can be the most eye-opening, humbling experience in the world.

What brings joy should never be embarrassing,

What brings you joy, Damien?” she asks, her voice low and soft. “Right now? It’s standing right in front of me.

But a soulmate doesn’t work like that. A soulmate isn’t supposed to be easy or one-sided. It’s a balance—a give and take.

It’s not just makeup. It’s never just makeup. It’s confidence, a badge of honor, a shield from the world.

Boys might not, baby. But men? Men love to make a woman scream their name while their head is between her legs.

You are, rubia. I see it every time I’m with you. I don’t need kids or anything else for that matter to be happy with you. It’s just you. You make me happy. I’ll do what it takes to prove it to you.

And then he bought me coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, drove me all the way to Long Island during 8 am traffic in downtown New York City, walked me up ten floors to my apartment and kissed me at the door, and made me promise to see him on Friday, at the latest.

Why bother, you know? Found a fucking perfect one. Why mess with that?

But because they are good friends—the best friends—I know they trust me with my relationships, and if I tell them I’m happy, then they’re happy.

You consume me. I don’t know how you did it, but I have fallen madly, deeply, in love with you.

We’re taking this day by day. But day by day, with an eye to the future.

It’s just you. You make me happy. I’ll do what it takes to prove it to you.

Richard is annoyed with me for not making him dumping me easy?

I can’t do this, Abbie. I need to be more serious about my future. You were fun, but I can’t settle for fun.

Yeah, I like that,” he says. “Your heartbeat is there. Like the feel of it on my palm. I’ve never met anyone so alive, Abigail,” he says.

You’re getting it. I told you I’m falling, and I’m taking you with me.

Now it means that no matter how much they fight, how many mistakes they make, they always fit. She’s always going to be his other half.

I’m telling you I’m having a shit day. A long fucking day. I’m telling you I can’t go out, but I really fucking want to see you. I’m asking you to be at my place when I get home.

It was never about extravagance. It was about feeling like an equal. Feeling cherished. Feeling appreciated.

You’re starting to mean a lot to me, Abigail,” he says, and because I’ve shelved the smart part of me temporarily, I just smile to myself. “Yeah, Damien.

Revenge?” I ask, but the word rolls off my tongue like butter. I love the way it feels.

Hey Reader! Thank you so much for signing up to get a sneak peek of Tis the Season for Revenge! Christmas is my favorite time of year, and I thrive off of fun, feel-good Christmas movies and books! I’m so excited to have one of my own! Tis the Season for Revenge contains mentions of cheating, verbal, physical, and financial abuse. Please always put yourself first

And though I smile as he kisses my temple before he walks us out, making sure to grab my jacket on the way, I can’t help but feel like this is a terrible decision. But I’m out of time. The clock hit midnight and I didn’t confess and now my fairy tale will crumble around me. And whatever happens next, I deserve it because I played a good man to get revenge on a shit one who didn’t even deserve that effort.

Baby, you were never leaving without me tonight. I needed air. I went for a walk. I was headed back when you found me.” My mouth drops open, and his hand tightens just a hair at the look. “You’re getting it. I told you I’m falling, and I’m taking you with me.

I don’t share, Abigail. We agreed that this might not be serious, that we’re both not looking for that right now, but I don’t share. I’m a very possessive man. What’s mine is mine.” Her tongue reaches out, tapping against her pink lips, and just barely, the faintest brush touches my lip. Fuck, I want this woman.

You’re not listening, naranja.” His voice made me pause. Not angry, but firm. The words he was saying, he wanted me to hear, to understand. “I’m telling you I’m having a shit day. A long fucking day. I’m telling you I can’t go out, but I really fucking want to see you. I’m asking you to be at my place when I get home.

A relationship is like the law. It needs balance. If it’s out of balance, if one person sees themselves as less valuable, if another sees themselves as more valuable, the balance isn’t there.” His dark eyes are boring into mine with his words, and any words I could say are stuck in my chest. “You are not less than me. I am not less than you. We are humans who do what we can to help people.

Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven; And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd: A villain kills my father; and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven. O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought, 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged, To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No! Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; At gaming, swearing, or about some act That has no relish of salvation in't; Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: This physic but prolongs thy sickly days

But Damien just laughs, tipping his head back. He finds me . . . funny.

The truth is, I’m falling for Damien Martinez, and I am so wholly fucked because I don’t think there’s an easy way out of this.

My heart stops with his words, but he keeps talking. “You consume me. I don’t know how you did it, but I have fallen madly, deeply, in love with you. Every moment of every day is consumed by thoughts of you, planning the future, dying to be with you.

I’d rather be a Marilyn over a Jackie any day.

Fuck him! Because the reality is, he wasn’t enough. And he’s right: I am too much. I am too much for him because he always should have deserved less.

What scumbag saw this perfect specimen of a woman and decided he didn’t want that?

I did a lot of dumb shit to try and fit what I thought would be his perfect woman.

I changed things I loved about myself because of a piece of shit man who thought I was too much.

Who the fuck decides if someone is good enough, anyway? Sure, there are people who just don’t fit with you, but you don’t drag it out for four fucking years.

Is it okay if I kiss you, Abigail?

A body that I’d overworked and underfed for years to fit some standard I thought would get me my dream future.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a short man. Nothing at all. The issue becomes when the man puts so much thought into how tall he is that it starts to impact who he’s with.

You are my sun and my moon and I will be yours. You completely consume me.

Who the fuck is this man?

I don’t like sweat. It’s . . . inconvenient. And it’s not good for my skin or my hair.

He turns to me. “See? It’s not just makeup, rubia.” God, he gets it, doesn’t he? It’s not just makeup. It’s never just makeup. It’s confidence, a badge of honor, a shield from the world.

Go. Clean up. Then give me some sunshine before you go to bed, yeah?” Give me some sunshine. Jeeze. I like that, giving someone sunshine.

Just, you know. You’re a full 14 years older than me. It must be hard, keeping up.

Until then, you’re going to take my cock like a good girl, yeah?

I want to give everything to a man and let him consume me. I want to fall so hard that I don’t know where up is. I want to be selfish, and I want to be his and his alone. I don’t want to share. I’m like my mom, because I think a small part of me would resent a child for taking that possibility from me.

He’s kind of a Chad. You know, a male Karen?

He’s kind of a Chad. You know, a male Karen? Shit. I’ve been dating a fucking Chad for four years. And I was planning to marry this asshole?!

Like many people who talk to me, I can tell he regrets asking questions.

I’m standing in the corner, intentionally avoiding everyone and swiping on a dating app I downloaded this morning. The only explanation for the decision I can give is lately, life has been . . . blah.

He thought it made him better than others, like a person who reads non-fiction not because they enjoy it, but because they like to brag about it.

Do you know how hard it is to find hot shoes with a two-inch heel?

I want to be selfish, and I want to be his and his alone. I don’t want to share. I’m like my mom, because I think a small part of me would resent a child for taking that possibility from me.

It doesn’t matter at the end of the day. To empathize with someone, you don’t need to have lived the same story.

I’m recovering from four years of living in a dreamland that was really a nightmare, and I’m learning how to live with that knowledge. Learning how to be me again. Who “me” even is.

I can’t show you affection in front of my friends, Abbie,” Richard once told me when we were fighting in the car after a night out. “It’s weak. And I’m not a weak man.

A relationship is like the law. It needs balance. If it’s out of balance, if one person sees themselves as less valuable, if another sees themselves as more valuable, the balance isn’t there.” His dark eyes are boring into mine with his words, and any words I could say are stuck in my chest.

Good,” I whisper against her lips. “I don’t share.

A relationship is like the law. It needs balance. If it’s out of balance, if one person sees themselves as less valuable, if another sees themselves as more valuable, the balance isn’t there.” His dark eyes are boring into mine with his words, and any words I could say are stuck in my chest. “You are not less than me. I am not less than you. We are humans who do what we can to help people.” Silence. I don’t respond. I don’t . . . This man was supposed to be an ass. At best, a nice guy who was a little stuck-up and into himself. I could handle that. I could handle a man who has a bit of a superiority complex, especially if he could fuck me into tomorrow and help me get my revenge. A no brainer, really. But this? A man who is kind and caring and understanding and can fuck me into tomorrow? I don’t know what to do with it. So I just say, “Oh.” Like an idiot. And for some reason, Damien doesn’t find my loss of words annoying or stupid. Instead, he just smiles at me and shakes his head like he finds me sweet. “Yeah, oh.” He leans forward again, pressing his lips against mine. “I want you to stay the night. Here, with me.” “Damien, that’s sweet, but I really am a crazy sleeper.” “Are you saying that because you don’t want to spend the night here or with me? Or are you saying that because you’re worried about my sleep quality?” He says it with a smile. I scrunch my nose but don’t answer. His eyebrow raises, and the smile spreads. We’re in a standoff. “Your funeral,” I say in a mumble. “If I kick you in the balls in my sleep and you can’t walk straight tomorrow, not my fault.” Damien just smiles, pressing his lips to mine again, but not in that soft, sweet way. “Yeah, well, let’s see if I can tire you out. Help you sleep well. Maybe we can make it so you’re the one who can’t walk straight tomorrow,” he says, then his lips move to my neck, licking and sucking a path down. And you know what? I sleep soundly all night in Damien’s bed, his leg hitched up over my hip, keeping me pinned in place the entire time. TWELVE November 7 -Abbie- “He took you there?!” Cam says, her voice going up at least three octaves with the words. It’s the day after my date with Damien. This morning my internal clock woke me up at seven, and I attempted to roll out of his fancy ass bed and dress in my clothes from the night before quietly, needing to be at the store by 10 and knowing I needed to get home, change, and be ready for work in three hours. His arm, still weighed down with the nicest Rolex I’ve seen, was

Yeah, I like that,” he says. “Your heartbeat is there. Like the feel of it on my palm. I’ve never met anyone so alive, Abigail,

It’s Abbie, please, I usually say. Abbie is a fun name. A sweet name. Abbie is sparkles and pink and sunshine. But on his lips? I could let it pass. On his lips, it feels seductive and exotic.

That’s life, Abigail. That’s how you play the fucking game. It’s why you’ll never get anywhere in life, doing fucking shitty makeup like some high school dropout.” He turns to me now fully, rage and anger in his eyes.

The man bought me flowers. He bought me flowers on his way home from work after a terribly long day, stopping at some random bodega on the street because . . . what? He wanted to surprise me? He was thinking of me?

And I was planning to marry this asshole?!

Ma’am, are you okay? Did he . . . do anything to you?” I don’t even look back at him when I answer. “He broke my heart.

God, it really is a fucked up kind of fun to make this asshole uncomfortable.

I still can’t believe you went brunette for a man whose nickname is Dick,

I’m thinking of walking into a room of people Damien spends every day with, smiling on his arm, and him bringing me because he wants me there.

This tells me everything I need to know. The way your pulse is panicked. The look in your eyes right now. The way you’re holding me, the way you ran. Though, naranja, you try running into traffic like that again, I’m spanking you when we get home.

Say yes and we’ll forever be completely consumed by each other. We’ll be the cool aunt and uncle, and we’ll travel and explore, and you will be mine and mine alone. I am absolutely wild about you. You are my sun and my moon

I’ve never met anyone so alive, Abigail,” he says.

I told you I’m falling, and I’m taking you with me.

I know you are. You spoke about it at dinner, and I saw it. You help people feel their best. That’s admirable. Better than I do, most days.

Love you, Abs.

She loves surprises, I’ve learned. Not big extravagant things, but little ones. Texts to say hi or bringing home shit flowers from a bodega. A date that she doesn’t know the end of. She’s simple, my Abigail.

Flurries now always remind me of one person, of a kiss at Rockefeller Plaza with a gorgeous woman. A kiss that, sometimes, I think changed the entire direction of my life.

You’re a damn liar, Abigail Amelia Keller. You want big and you want sparkle and you want extravagance. Not in price, but in love and adoration. And right here, right now, I’m promising to spend the rest of my life giving you that. Say yes and I’ll make you feel loved and cherished and appreciated until my last breath. Say yes and I’ll help you paint the world pink. Say yes and we’ll forever be completely consumed by each other.

Will there be a next time?” I ask, testing my luck. He smiles. “Things go my way, baby, there will be.” And I smile back because I like how confidently he says it.

Una relación es como la ley. Necesita equilibrio. Si está desequilibrada, si una persona se ve a si misma como menos valiosa, si otra se ve como más valiosa, no hay equilibrio.

You deserve revenge,” Cami says, a dark smile in her eyes. I sit down. “Revenge?” I ask, but the word rolls off my tongue like butter. I love the way it feels.

My mom was weak. A man left her, and it destroyed her life. But did she take it out on that man, my father? No. She took it out on Hannah and me and made our lives freaking miserable as children. I am not weak.

You were . . . Malibu Barbie. Now you’re Barbara Bush.” “Barbara Bush is an honorable woman. She did . . . good stuff.” “She was boring and dowdy. You are not that.

But today, I feel like a tourist, wandering the city as it begins its holiday transformation, a gorgeous woman on my arm.

And fuck, is she gorgeous. All hourglass curves wrapped in a tight pink dress, sky-high heels, and loose blond curls down her back. The office all jokes that I have a type, and to be honest, I do. And Abigail Keller is my fucking type.

I don’t share, Abigail. We agreed that this might not be serious, that we’re both not looking for that right now, but I don’t share. I’m a very possessive man. What’s mine is mine.

No, I’ve just secured the world’s best revenge if I can make it happen. “I’m gonna fuck his boss,” I say, the smile on my face the most genuine thing I’ve felt since the miserable day Richard Bartholomew Benson walked into my life.

That’s my dirty whore.

Give me some sunshine. Jeeze. I like that, giving someone sunshine. So I agree.

I want her. I want everything with her, from her. I want this woman more than I’ve wanted anything in some time.

I did a lot of dumb shit to try and fit what I thought would be his perfect woman. I changed things I loved about myself because of a piece of shit man who thought I was too much. Too much for him. Too much for the life he wanted. Too much for some boring fucking lawyers. Too much to spend his life with. And you know what? Fuck that.