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Quote by Max Sheridan Knightley

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Max Sheridan Knightley

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“Her smile was brittle. "Well, I know Kieran's achieving something if someone like you is willing to be in a relationship with him." "Someone like me?" She gestured to me from head to toe. "Respectable. Elegantly dressed, if a little flamboyant with color. Beautiful manners, well-spoken. Clearly you listened to your parents when they told you how to behave." I choked back a snort at the thought of my biological father being Mr. Manners. The sheer audacity of it. "Kieran probably hasn't told you about all the times we had to get him out of trouble," she continued. I blinked, confused. "No." She ticked off on her fingers as she spoke. "He skipped classes, he stole money out of my wallet, he crashed our cars more than once. Not to mention the drinking, my God. He couldn't hold his liquor at all. We were so ashamed." I held back my eye roll. It was like having a conversation with a steamroller. As she continued to list Kieran's crimes, I realized that she relished this monologue, all the ways he'd done them wrong. Like she never wanted him to grow up because then she'd have to stop being a martyr. "But anyway, that's all in the past. Finally, he's become who we always wanted him to be, and we can hold our heads up." The thought of being a source of pride to these snobby, plastic people made me want to drink ten flutes of prosecco, climb onto their dining room table, and do Amy Winehouse karaoke, Diane's advice about polish and presentation be damned. But all I needed to shock them was the truth. "I haven't seen my father in over twenty years," I began. "As far as I know he's still the lead singer of the second-best hair metal band in Spokane. My mother's salary was for keeping herself in clothes and boyfriends. Sometimes I had to break into my piggy bank so that I could by Cup O' Noodles at 7-Eleven for my brother and me. I've made a good life in spite of my parents, not because of them. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with your son. I knew he was a survivor, too. But thank you for the compliments. Now, if you'll excuse me.”

PresumptionComplex TraumaBad ParentingTruth BombChild TraumaBelittlement
Book:The Slowest Burn
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“Alberto was a good for nothing pisellino." Nonna puts her hand to her chest, looking shocked and delighted. "Violetta," she says, "no, is it true?" Nicolo makes a little choking sound. He looks mortified. I'm confused. "Did Violetta just call your grandfather a little pea?" I whisper, struggling to translate the words in my head. Nicolo is flushing a dull red beneath his golden olive tan. "It um... doesn't mean little pea," he murmurs, leaning close to my chair. "In Italian it is an insult for a man's private parts, calling them very small, like little peas." My eyes widen in astonishment. At this point in the evening I'm not sure anything else could surprise me. "It's true." Violetta sniffs and holds up her fingers several inches apart. "And his manhood, like a baby zucchina." Nonna looks immensely satisfied by this information. "Well," she says. "Well, God bless Carlo. He was a good man and there were no baby zucchine in our house, I can tell you. Only grandi zucchine." Nicolo clears his throat. "Your grandchildren are standing right here!" he reminds them.”

InsultingBelittlementItalian Saying
Book:The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake
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“You can't get under my skin." We'll see about that. "Maybe not under it, but I've been on top of it before." He pursed his lips, but the corner of his eye twitched. "I've thought long and hard about this moment, about you and me." I carefully let the words pour from my lips like honey until he grew red-faced, bothered. "Especially about that time we broke your bed." And he missed. Ouch, outer ring. I scoffed. "Still struggling to hit your mark, I see.”

DartsEnemies To Lovers RomanceVerbal SaltSexual InnuendoBelittlement
Book:Second Time's a Charm
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“Like, where's he really from?" Eden crumples the napkin in her fist, her skin prickling. "Excuse me?" "Oh, you know what I mean. Is he Korean or Japanese?" A flicker of annoyance makes Eden work her jaw. "What's it matter?" "He just looks so much like that guy from that K-pop group." She snaps her fingers, straining her two brain cells for a name. "Taehung? Or Mingyu? I guess it would be alright if he's Chinese, too, but..." "You need to piss off," Eden snaps, slowly rising from her seat. "Right now." "What's your problem?" "Look, I'm going to give you the benefit of a doubt here and say that you're clearly too sauced to be thinking straight, but what you're saying is... Yeah, just ew." "I just want to know more about him." "Then how about asking for his name first?" "You're making this weird." "You handled that all on your own when you asked where he was really from.”

RacistDefendingVerbal Sparring
Book:Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love
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“I appreciated the text you sent me. I didn't even know that site existed. Riveting reading." "Wasn't it, though? You really can get a sense about people when you hear from those closest to them." "I couldn't agree more. In my experience, you can get a better sense by viewing them in their natural habitat." He glanced around the kitchen and dining room in my habitat. Game on. I lowered my tone. "For a real education, you should have showed up early, Deputy Douche." He gave a bark of laughter, drawing the attention of the whole room. "Javy, please. No need to be so formal." "Javy," I cooed. "Best be careful." I put my hand to cover my lips away from the others, all secret-agent like. "When becoming too comfortable with your prey, you can get a false sense of security and become devoured in seconds, never to be seen again.”

Verbal SparringEnemies Closer
Book:Southern Sass and a Crispy Corpse
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