“You are my country, Desdemona.” Yearning, harsh and poignant, and she felt herself swaying toward him. “My Egypt. My hot, harrowing desert and my cool, verdant Nile, infinitely lovely and unfathomable and sustaining.” — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
You are my country, Desdemona. ... My Egypt. My hot, harrowing desert and my cool, verdant Nile, infinitely lovely and unfathomable and sustaining. — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
“[S]he hardly deserved to be labeled a witch.' 'I find it hard to believe anyone could take such a thing seriously. This isn't the… — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
“You can’t carry me out your front door in the middle of the day and drop me on the sidewalk!” “I wasn’t going to.” He sounded offended. “I was going to carry you to your cab.” “That’s worse!” she exclaimed, drawing a confused look from him. Good heavens, one would think he’d no idea how one got rid of a… — Connie Brockway Copy Share
“I love you,” she whispered, gazing up into his pale gray eyes. He smiled crookedly, for a moment looking at her with a dazzled… — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
She clutched the train ticket tighter and waited for the sense of escape to come over her as it had a dozen times before,… — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
“Beverly?” she said. “Lady Evelyn.” “Are you a confirmed misogynist or am I special?” His smile was sublime. “My appreciation of the fairer sex… — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
“It looks fine, Beverly.” “I grow faint at such praise.” “Don’t let it go to your head. We still have, what? Another six rooms to ready before the wedding guests arrive?” “Yes,” Beverly replied. “WE have six rooms left to arrange. After which WE will have to make haste to see that the kitchen is well stocked for the arrival… — Connie Brockway Copy Share
“Avery?" she whispered. He gathered her closer, his eyes still closed. "Avery?" "Shh." His voice was low and infinitely sad. "Hush. Tomorrow's waiting outside this door. It's crouching there in an ocean of words and uncertainties. But it's not here yet and we are. Lily. Lillian. Love. I'm begging you. Let me love you again. Let me love you all… — Connie Brockway Copy Share
“Marry me,” he said, searching her eyes for some sign, some indication of how to proceed. Her gaze held his. His heart beat in his chest like a drum. “Why should I?” she asked, her voice hushed and oddly hopeful and terribly vulnerable. He swallowed, feeling lost and uncertain. “Well,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “I’ve got a few… — Connie Brockway Copy Share
She'd stood by that creed. No softness, because the world wasn't soft; lots of laughter, because if you were in on the joke, the… — Connie Brockway Copy Share Image
“He stood staring down at her a second before raking his hand through his hair. “What the devil am I—Damnation!” “Probably,” Evelyn agreed. He glanced down, clearly startled. “Oh,” she said caustically, “your comment was rhetorical rather than prophetic.” A surprised smile danced momentarily on his lean face. “Impudent,” he said. “Imprudent,” she rejoined. “Gads! Quite a mouth you have… — Connie Brockway Copy Share