Our last impression of her as she turned the corner was that smile, flung backward like a handful of flowers.
Wallace StegnerAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: February 18, 1909
- Died: April 13, 1993
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Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments. Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches. Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
William Shakespeare
That had been her plan, he decided. The devious witch. She’d planted the seed in his brain, stirred up his loins, as he was only a man, after all, and now she could torment him just by being in the same vicinity.
Well, two could play this game.
Rather than waiting for Darcy to pick up the orders, he carried them out himself. Just to show Brenna O’Toole that she didn’t trouble him in the least.
The perverse creature didn’t even glance his way as he swung into the pub and wound his way through...
Nora Roberts