65 Seekers
89 Finders

I Read Words Other People Write

UF, UF, UF. PNR, HR, Sci-Fi, finding a bit more YA that I enjoy. Mystery, crime, detective shit. Have recently figured out I'm not really a contemporary romance gal. I like smut but am not really into erotica. Oh, did I mention UF?

Currently reading

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty
Anne Rice, A.N. Roquelaure
Fate's Edge
Ilona Andrews
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
J.K. Rowling
The Iron Queen
Julie Kagawa
Red Seas Under Red Skies
Scott Lynch

Broken Harbor

Broken Harbor  - Tana French I just want to list some quotes from the book. Tana French is a fantastic writer, tense, subtle, dramatic. She worms under your skin and makes you feel gray and foggy.

Page 11 "Probably he was thinking what a boring bollix I was. Plenty of people think the same thing. All of them are teenagers, mentally if not physically. Only teenagers think boring is bad. Adults, grown men and women who've been around the block a few times, know that boring is a gift straight from God. Life has more than enough excitement up its sleeve, ready to hit you with as soon as you're not looking, without you adding to the drama. If Richie didn't know that already, he was about to find out."

Page 104 - "I looked out over the water, into the night that was coming in on the tide, and I felt nothing at all. The beach looked like something I had seen in an old film, once upon a time; that hotheaded boy felt like a character from some book I had read and given away in childhood. Only, somewhere far inside my spine and deep in the palms of my hands, something hummed; like a sound too low to hear, like a warning, like a cello string when a tuning fork strikes the perfect tone to call it awake."

Page 385 - "There have been so many of them. Run-down rooms in tiny mountain-country stations, smelling of mold and feet; sitting rooms crammed with flowered upholstery, simpering holy cards, all the shining medals of respectability; council-flat kitchens where the baby whined through a bottle of Cooke and the ashtray overflowed onto the cereal-crusted table; our own interview rooms, still as sanctuaries, so familiar that blindfolded I could have put my hand on that piece of graffiti, that crack in the wall. They are rooms where I have come eye to eye with a killer and said, You. You did this."