My mother was a children's librarian. I remember when traditional stories were revised for modern audiences until they bore only a nodding… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“My mother raised her eyebrow, and murmured, “And to think I was always worried that you didn’t have any friends. I suppose… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
His voice was soft and sweet as molasses; but my mother once told me that you had to trust that the first… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
His brother maintained that what sent people backing away was neither his size nor his mother's blood, but solely the expression on… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
Love thy enemies, it says in the scriptures. My foster mother always added, "At the very least, you will be polite to… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
Mercy," said my mother thoughtfully, "you never told me your werewolf neighbor was quite that hot. — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
My foster mother always laughed and said it was his reputation for knowing everything that allowed for him to appear infallible: all… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“His favorite saying was, 'Interdum feror cupidine partium magnarum europe vincendarum." "'Sometimes I have the urge to conquer large parts of Europe'?" Boyd said,… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“I break things, a lot of things, but I don’t want one of them to be you.” — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
He was obviously dead. But since he was a vampire that wasn't as hopless a thing as it might have been. — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“want to. Adam wasn’t angry. He wouldn’t hurt me. I let him pull the power of his pack over me like a warm” — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“I promise I won't spank you," he told me, his voice rough and low as he added, "not unless you ask me to." I… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“I paused to pat the truck’s hood gently in apology when someone put his hand on my shoulder. I grabbed the hand and rotated… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
In this dream, I wasn’t a coyote shapeshifter trying to hold a werewolf, I was Coyote’s almost daughter, and I had all the strength… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
“She hit us,” the woman shrieked. That was the gist of it anyway. There were a lot of unladylike words that began with “F,”… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
Charles was most comfortable by himself or, if that wasn't possible, with his pack in the wild. Talking for hours in a crowded auditorium… — Patricia Briggs Copy Share Image
