Mustread Quotes

“I love you Bonnie. So much that I hurt with it. And I hate it, and I love it, and I want it to go away, and i want it to stay forever....”
― Amy Harmon, Infinity + One

“Santa Fe’s night usually held a scatter of voices, a stray laugh, a dog bark; tonight the silence carried weight, like the city itself was holding its breath.”
― D.L. Maddox, Stolen

“This thing we have, it hurts, he continued. But the pain is almost sweet because it means YOU happened. We happened. And I can't regret that, no matter how little or how long I get to tag along with you and pretend that I don't hate having people recognize me or take pictures or having people whisper about my record--
" Your record?"
" My criminal record, Bonnie, Nothing platinum there. I'm an ex-con, and starting over and building a new life where I can put it behind me, I'm building a new life where it will never be behind me, and for you, its worth it. It's easy math.”
― Amy Harmon, Infinity + One

“Sometimes funny is all you've got.”
― Amy Harmon, Infinity + One

“Her grief was now doubled by his grief. She wondered how many heartbreaks a child so young could endure.”
― Dean Koontz, The Forbidden Door

“My vengeance was of a different kind. It bore no offense and no ill towards injustice. It had no emotion. Blood and Death. That's all it was." - Celeste- ALL LIGHT WILL FALL”
― Almney King, All Light Will Fall

“Boston?” He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Sure ain’t easy for a lady of your stature to find your bearings here, is it?”
“True enough,” she agreed. “Life in these parts is completely different from anything I’ve been used to, but I enjoy being here, and I dare say I’ve settled in well so far.”
Indeed, she had found herself reveling in her newly claimed independence and freedom—far from the suffocating etiquette and constricting social obligations she had suffered under all her life in Boston. Far from the prevailing opinion in the East that women of her stature, as Rénier had put it, were destined to adorn the arm of a wealthy, distinguished gentleman and find their fulfilment in being the perfect lady, wife, and hostess, always gentle, obedient, and dutiful, never complaining about their unjust fate.
Those were the ideals on which she had been raised: the pillars of a social order where a woman was little more than a decorative accessory, expected to do as she was told. In a world where obligation and appearance meant everything, and one’s own desires and longings had no place.
Oh, how her heart had rebelled against those rigid forms, against that gilded cage in which a woman of the upper class was confined, when all she longed for was self⁠-determination, independence, and—adventure.
But she had left it all behind.
Once and for all. And she thanked God for it with all her heart.”
― Melanie Nova, The Avant-gardiste: Breaking Barriers

“How could some white men so willfully and selfishly shatter all efforts for peace? And why did men always have to make war?
Was honor truly worth more than life itself? More than love, more than family, more than anything at all?
Painful memories of Frederick, her late husband, tugged at her heart. As much as she had mourned him, there had been times when she had resented him for going to war so willingly and enthusiastically, leaving her behind to raise Willie all by herself, at the mercy of his vitriolic mother in Boston.
“But what of their families?” The words burst out of her. “Their wives and children? It’s always the weak, the helpless who pay the price for you men believing you cannot settle your disputes any other way.” She shot him a displeased look. “You think yourselves so brave, strong, and invincible with your guns as you crave glory and honor! You go to war as if it were a game, an amusing adventure! But you don’t waste much thought on those you leave behind, unprotected and without prospects for their future in case you don’t return.”
Surprised by her outburst, Rénier stared at her.
“You’re right, Madame,” he then conceded. “It’s the women and children who pay the price. But they’d suffer just the same if their fathers, husbands, and brothers surrendered without a fight and resigned themselves to their fate.”
― Melanie Nova, The Avant-gardiste: Breaking Barriers

“That’s right,” she said firmly. “I’ll be joining you for the round-up.”
Joe stared at her for a moment, perplexed, then huffed a snort.
“Oh no, you won’t! Women have no business there! You can watch when we’re brandin’ the calves and cuttin’ the young bulls after the roundup, but you’re definitely not comin’ along.” His tone was sharp and decisive.
Katherine clasped her hands in her lap with studied casualness. Reluctance stirred within her, yet she had, of course, been prepared for pushback.
“Well, I’m well aware of how demanding and arduous it will be,” she admitted calmly, “but as I am the proprietor of this ranch, I shall most certainly take part in all the roundups from now on.”
Joe kept his gaze locked on her as he slowly moved closer, his posture intimidating. His glare brought back uncomfortable memories of the day he had thrown her into the horse trough.
“And as the one in charge of the whole fuckin’ shebang,” he said pointedly, “I’m tellin’ ya to stay!”
She jutted out her chin in defiance. “That’s not your decision to make, Joe.”
Glowering down at her, he stopped in front of the armchair, then bent over and slammed his fist onto the armrest, making her shrink back against the backrest with shock. Katherine felt the impact reverberate through the entire chair.
“Yes, it is, Kate,” he snarled, anger and discontent etched into his hard features as he braced his hands on the armrests. “And I won’t have it. You’re stayin’!”
She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch as he gritted his teeth. Alarming memories washed over her—of Danny standing bent over her the day before the fall roundup, just as Joe was now.
And now, as then, she felt trapped.
But she could not allow herself to show any weakness. She had to stand up to him without wavering.
After all, did he really think he had authority over her?
“You can forbid your wife to come along, but as sure as rain, you won’t forbid me,” she managed to retort in a tone of reprimand. “I have every right to it.”
Joe’s dark eyes narrowed on her, boring into hers.
“Dammit, woman, are you so desperate to tempt fate, huh? Roundin’ up cattle is dangerous business! Hundreds of agitated beeves are runnin’ all over the place, rammin’ their fuckin’ horns into your thighs, raisin’ up tons of dust so ya can hardly see a hand in front of your face. If your horse throws ya, you’ll be trampled to death in a flash.” His face drew so close that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “I ain’t takin’ ya along, Kate! No chance! ’Tis far too unsafe. You ain’t goin’, and that’s final.”
All of a sudden, anger blazed through her like a wildfire. She fought to keep her composure, every nerve on edge, but she was so furious she could have struck him.
How did he dare talk to her like that?
She didn’t need his stupid permission to go! The ranch was hers. The cattle were hers. No man had the right to forbid her anything! Those days were over—once and for all!
“You can’t make me stay and you sure won’t,” she bit out, her hands balling into fists.
His expression grew even harder and darker. “Trust me, Kate, I can. And if I have to rope ya like a fuckin’ calf, tie ya to your bed, and board up your door, I’ll do it. You’d better not tempt me!”
― Melanie Nova, The Avant-gardiste: Breaking Barriers

“Y’know, seein’ ya in that blanket reminds me of a cute, li’l tradition among the Sioux,” he remarked, the calculating glint in his eyes setting her on edge even more. “It serves a very special purpose for ’em.”
Katherine bit back a scoff.
“To keep themselves warm?” she asked with a sarcastic undertone.
Joe chuckled softly. He pushed away from the door and sauntered closer, his dark gaze riveted on hers. The predatory expression in his eyes sent a nervous flutter through her chest.
“When a young brave chooses himself a bride,” he said, “he wraps himself in such a blanket and waits patiently in front of her father’s tepee for her to come out . . . even if it takes hours. Well, eventually, she’ll have to fetch water from the river or collect some firewood.” He shot her a cocky grin that suggested that she wouldn’t like the moral of the story. “Then—he quickly cuts her off so she can’t escape ’im and pulls the blanket around ’em both, so he can talk to her in private, protected from pryin’ eyes.”
He stopped right in front of her, grabbing the edges of her blanket and trapping her beneath it as he pulled her to him.
“Wrapped up like that,” he continued, lowering his voice as if imparting a secret, “they stand together and talk, while ev’ryone else in the village knows from then on that the warrior’s courtin’ that girl. If she don’t want ’im, she slips out of the blanket and runs away—but if she likes ’im, she stays . . . and meets ’im again and again, in the shelter of his blanket. Until she finally becomes his wife.”
Thunderstruck, Katherine stared up at him, hardly daring to breathe. His face hovered inches from hers, the light of the kerosene lamp casting flickering shadows across his ruggedly handsome features. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he must hear it.”
― Melanie Nova, The Avant-gardiste: Breaking Barriers

“But you know, you worry way too much and allow things to take up far too much real estate in your brain. My advice to you, my sweetheart, would be to get out of your own head and stop overthinking everything so much. And this is not just coming from the man who loves you. I'm speaking as a musician, as your music director, and someone who has taken more trips around the sun than you have. Take it from me, there will always be something to beat yourself up over, and as a performer, you'll come to realize that you'll always have detractors: people who will either look down their noses at you and criticize you because they think they're better than you, or people who will be jealous of you because they know you're better than them. You've already encountered that type with Simone, and I'm sure you've come across it at Carnegie Mellon or in your various regional theatre experience at some point as well. So you might as well just live your life, do the best you can, and stop worrying so much or it will eat you alive. Worrying is like paying interest on a loan you haven't taken out yet.”
That's How You Know by Julie Simmons (Chapter 12)”
― Julie Simmons, That's How You Know

“Well, I definitely don't need to make a birthday wish,” said Charles, “because my wish already came true. But I can think of something you can do to make my day special,” he said with a seductive grin, burrowing his face into the curve of her neck and leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way to her earlobe.
“Well, you get that every day,” she joked.
Charles looked her directly in the eyes and grew serious. “Yes, I do, and every day it's a gift. Every day you give me the gift of your body, your soul and your love, and there's no greater gift you could ever give me. Tori, you are my gift,” he said lovingly.
That's How You Know by Julie Simmons (Chapter 14)”
― Julie Simmons, That's How You Know

“I've never been this deliriously happy in my entire life. Tori, you are the sun, moon and stars in my world,” he said, gazing into her big beautiful eyes. Falling in love with her had made him feel more alive than he had in years, and he realized even more acutely what had been missing in his life.
“And you are mine,” she echoed, and they made love again. Afterward, she let out a contented sigh as she lay encircled in his arms, her head resting on his chest as she drifted off to sleep to the beating of his heart.
That's How You Know by Julie Simmons (Chapter 14)”
― Julie Simmons, That's How You Know

“What is the feeling one gets when held in the loving arms of a loving mother: comfort and warmth? The child so held will experience and register physical sensations, such as comfort and warmth, yes? There is more to the experience, however. The child cradled in Mother’s loving attention receives the subliminal impulse of security and stability that all is right with the world, and they are home safe. Feeling at home, safe in the right world, has nothing to do with the physical sensations as much as it speaks to the very core of our needs. Satisfying our needs for safety and security elicits from us a peace of mind that transcends all physical sensations and renders us into a higher dimension or vibrational level, if you want to call it as such. Why is the crying baby comforted and quieted when cuddled by a loving mother? And raising that question to the next relevant level, I ask, “How would one feel when wrapped within a loving angel’s wing?”
― Wayne Cesaro