81
" David started up the wheeled stairs to the upper floors with his sword at the ready. He expected to encounter Blackadder warriors, protecting the lady of the castle. But there were none on the stairs and none guarding the door on the first floor.
Damn it. She must have escaped. He gritted his teeth as he envisioned the lady’s guards leading her through the tunnel.
He was about to open the chamber door to make sure it was empty when Brian, one of his best men, came down the stairs.
“Laird, I checked all the chambers while ye were in the hall,” he said.
David’s jaw ached from clenching it.
“There’s one door on the floor just above us that wouldn’t open with the latch,” Brian said. “Shall I break it down?”
David waved him aside and pulled the ax from his belt as he raced up the stairs.
“Open it!” he shouted and pounded on the door.
He did not wait. She could be escaping through a secret door this very moment. Three hard whacks with his ax, and the door split. He kicked it until it swung open, then stepped through.
At his first sight of the woman, his feet became fixed to the floor. He felt strange, and his vision was distorted, as if as if he had swallowed a magical potion that narrowed his sight. He could see nothing in the room but her.
She was extraordinarily lovely, with violet eyes, pale skin, and shining black hair. But there was something about her, something beyond her beauty, that held him captive. She was young, much younger than he expected, and her features and form were delicate, in marked contrast to the violent emotion in her eyes.
David knew to the depths of his soul that a brute like him should not be the man to claim this fragile flower, even while the word mine beat in his head like a drum. He had no notion of how long he stood staring at her before he became aware that she held a sword. It was longer still before he noticed the two wee lasses peeking out from behind her like frightened kittens.
Anger boiled up in his chest. Every Blackadder man in the castle who could still draw breath should have been here, standing between him and their lady. Instead, she faced him alone with a sword she could barely lift with both hands.
It was a brave, but ridiculous gesture.
There was no defense against him. "
― Margaret Mallory , Captured by a Laird (The Douglas Legacy, #1)
84
" During voir dire, the interviews for jury selection, each person is asked under oath about their experience with the criminal justice system, as defendant or victim, but usually not even the most elementary effort is made to corroborate those claims. One ADA [Associate District Attorney] told me about inheriting a murder case, after the first jury deadlocked. He checked the raps for the jurors and found that four had criminal records. None of those jurors were prosecuted. Nor was it policy to prosecute defense witnesses who were demonstrably lying--by providing false alibis, for example--because, as another ADA told me, if they win the case, they don't bother, and if they lose, " it looks like sour grapes." A cop told me about a brawl at court one day, when he saw court officers tackle a man who tried to escape from the Grand Jury. An undercover was testifying about a buy when the juror recognized him as someone he had sold to. Another cop told me about locking up a woman for buying crack, who begged for a Desk Appearance Ticket, because she had to get back to court, for jury duty--she was the forewoman on a Narcotics case, of course. The worst part about these stories is that when I told them to various ADAs, none were at all surprised; most of those I'd worked with I respected, but the institutionalized expectations were abysmal. They were too used to losing and it showed in how they played the game. "
94
" Grace was screwed. Royally screwed. As in, her career was over. Finished. Finite.
She turned on the windshield wipers and slowed the car as she drove through the rain in the mountains. With a renewed grip on the steering wheel, she sent a quick prayer that the rain would stop.
A little sprinkle she could handle. A storm...well, that was another matter entirely.
She puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. If only she was in Scotland for a holiday, but that wasn’t the case at all. In a last-ditch effort to give her muse a good swift kick in the pants, Grace decided to travel to Scotland.
All her friends thought she had lost her mind. Her editor thought it was just one more excuse in a very long line of them as to why she hadn’t turned the book in.
Grace wished she knew the reason the words just stopped coming. One day they were there, and the next...gone, vanished.
Poof!
Writing wasn’t just her career. It was her life. Because within the words and pages she was able to write about heroines who had relationships she would never have. It was the sad truth, but it was the truth.
Grace accepted her lot...in a way. She might realize the string of miserable dates were complete misses and admit that.
However, the stories running through her head allowed her to dream as far as she could, and encounter men and adventures sitting behind a computer never would.
Not being able to find the words anymore was like having someone steal her soul.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the rain stopped and she was able to turn off her windshield wipers. In the two hours since she checked into the B&B, it hadn’t stopped raining.
Rain was a part of being in Scotland, and she was pushing herself with her fear of storms to be out in it as well. It proved how far she would go to find her soul again. She needed to write, to sink into another world where she could find happiness and a love that lasted forever.
Now she was armed with her laptop and steely determination. She would find her muse again. Just as soon as she found the right place. The scenery along the highway was stunning, but the noise of the passing vehicles would be too much.
Grace needed somewhere off the beaten path. Somewhere she could pretend she was the only person left in the world. "
― Donna Grant , Dragon King (Dark Kings #6.5; Dark World #20.5)
97
" Cooper waited for me to shut the door then he cupped the back of my head and leaned down to give me a soft kiss. His tongue explored my mouth for a second then he pulled back and smiled. “You look sexy. Awake too.”
“You look sexy too,” I said like a dork.
Cooper laughed then stepped back and raised his arms. “What specifically do you like?”
My face had to be bright red because it was on fire as I lowered my gaze and smiled grudgingly.
“I like your shoes,” I said, laughing. “That’s what makes you stand out.”
Laughing harder, Cooper rolled back on his heels and checked out his black boots. “Yeah, I can see that,” he muttered, grinning at me. “Anything else?”
“Uh, that tattoo right there,” I said, pointing to his forearm.
“The ‘I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die’ tattoo? Are you a big Cash fan or do you like murder?”
“Cash fan.”
Cooper touched my chin then lifted my gaze to meet his. “You had no idea what it said, did you?”
“No, I just thought it was cute.”
“Cute?” he said, kissing me quickly before sighing dramatically. “It’s like pulling teeth with you. "
― Bijou Hunter , Damaged and the Beast (Damaged, #1)
98
" Brooke stared in surprise. “You brought me lunch?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
She checked out the label on the bag. “DMK is twenty minutes from here.”
“I was in that neighborhood, and now I’m here,” he said in exasperation. “Seriously, woman, you are impossible to feed.” He strode over and set the bag on her desk. “One cheeseburger with spicy chipotle ketchup and a side of sweet potato fries—chosen specifically for a certain spicy and sweet girl I know—and a green dill pickle for your eyes. So there.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Brooke studied him. “You seem very ornery right now.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he huffed. “Just . . . eat your Brooke Burger. Stop asking so many questions. Sometimes a guy just wants to buy a girl lunch. Any objections to that? Good. Enjoy your Sunday, Ms. Parker.”
He strode out of her office, gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
Brooke stared at the doorway and blinked. "
― Julie James , Love Irresistibly (FBI/US Attorney, #4)
100
" Somatic Symptoms:
People with Complex PTSD often have medical unexplained physical symptoms such as abdominal pains, headaches, joint and muscle pain, stomach problems, and elimination problems. These people are sometimes most unfortunately mislabeled as hypochondriacs or as exaggerating their physical problems. But these problems are real, even though they may not be related to a specific physical diagnosis. Some dissociative parts are stuck in the past experiences that involved pain may intrude such that a person experiences unexplained pain or other physical symptoms. And more generally, chronic stress affects the body in all kinds of ways, just as it does the mind. In fact, the mind and body cannot be separated. Unfortunately, the connection between current physical symptoms and past traumatizing events is not always so clear to either the individual or the physician, at least for a while. At the same time we know that people who have suffered from serious medical, problems. It is therefore very important that you have physical problems checked out, to make sure you do not have a problem from which you need medical help. "
― , Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation: Skills Training for Patients and Therapists
