The parody of a smile became a snarl. His face flushed dark and ugly.
River's End
__________________
When you learn someone you trusted did something bad, fear affects how you perceive their appearance too.
The parody of a smile became a snarl. His face flushed dark and ugly.
River's End
__________________
When you learn someone you trusted did something bad, fear affects how you perceive their appearance too.
There the path ended, and there stood the stones, a perfect circle, graduated in size from one on each side no higher than Riley’s waist to the king stone, taller than two men.
They stood, quiet gray, under the strong afternoon sun, swimming in a shallow sea of mist.
“Not as massive as Stonehenge, but more symmetrical,” Riley observed. “I bet when I measure them, each set is precisely the same in height and width, and an exact ratio.”
The archaeologist led the way, moved straight up, laid a hand on a stone. Pulled it back. “Did you hear that?”
“It . . . grumbled,” Sawyer said.
“No, it sang!”
Island of Glass
______________
“…the only certainty about Stonehenge is that
the ancient secret it conceals is a formidable one.”
______________
“Last year
I went to Ireland for the solstice,” he told her.
“There’s a
small stone dance there, in County Cork. It’s more intimate than Stonehenge.
The sky stays light until nearly ten, and when it begins to fade, toward the
end of the longest day, the stones sing.”
Face
The Fire
Royce
Cameron parked his Jeep behind a spiffy little classic Spitfire convertible in
flaming red.
The kind of
car and color, he mused, that screamed out: “Officer, another speeding ticket
here, please!”
Laura @ The MacGregor Brides
_______________________
It’s time to put some of the more persistent myths about car colors and models to the test.
_______________________
"And
watch your speed. The traffic cops just love to nail pretty boys like you in
their hot cars."
I don't know about you but I have "just the right time" with some (re) readings of Nora Roberts' Books.
At this time of the year - I find myself tired of people (hence wanting to move to the country; to that almost off-the-grid country), wishful of Summer days (while enjoying these first hints of Spring), craving gardening like crazy (but in that creator-like role) - I see myself pulled for "Night Moves". And Dream...
π
If she stood very still, if she closed her eyes and didn’t move, she could hear the music all around her. Not birdsong but the ruffle of air through branches and tiny leaves. If she concentrated, she could hear the faint trickle of the narrow creek that ran along the other side of the lane. The quality of silence was rich, flowing over her like a symphony.
π
There was just enough breeze to carry a hint of spring to her. Far back in the woods a bird she couldn’t see sang out as though it would never stop.
π
Louella ran a hand over the front of her purse as if she were wiping something away. “I used to have a rock garden. Sweet William and azure Adams. There was wisteria beneath my bedroom window, and roses, red roses, climbing on a trellis.”
Night Moves
ππππππππππππ
My Best Friend Ola gifted me this book for Christmas:
She says that The Louvre Heist inspired her purchase:
And inspired me to re-read Three Fates:
Couldn't wait for everyone to go to bed so I could spend time with Nora Roberts' most amazing characters ever created.
I hope you had a Glorious Christmas filled with Joy and Love!
Yours,
Teresa