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Quote by Karen Marie Moning

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The Fever Series 7-Book Bundle: Darkfever, Bloodfever, Faefever, Dreamfever, Shadowfever, Iced, Burned

This comprehensive bundle includes all seven novels of The Fever Series. The series is known for its richly developed world, complex characters, and a blend of romance and fantasy. The protagonist, a young woman, discovers her connection to the fey and becomes entangled in a web of magic and danger. The books delve into themes of destiny, love, and the struggle between human and fey worlds. The collection is a must-read for fans of the genre who enjoy a mix of romance and fantasy with a touch of the supernatural. more

Author

Karen Marie Moning
Karen Marie Moning

Karen Marie Moning, born on November 1, 1964, is a renowned fantasy author known for her unique magical worlds and complex character relationships. Her most famous work is the 'Ice and Fire' series. more

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“I turned around slowly, and looked up at him. He stiffened and sucked in a shallow breath. After a moment, he touched my cheek. "Such naked pain," he whispered. I turned my face into his palm and closed my eyes. His fingers threaded into my hair, cupped my head, and brushed the brand. It heated at his touch. His hand tightened at the base of my skull and squeezed, and he raised me slowly to my tiptoes. I opened my eyes and it was my turn to inhale sharply. Not human. Oh, no, not this man. "Never show it to me again." His face was cold, hard, his voice colder.”

“I felt the electricity of his body behind me as he reached around me and took the card from my hand. He didn't move away, and I battled the urge to lean back into him, seeking the comfort of his strength. Would he wrap his arms around me? Make me feel safe, if only for a moment, and if only a delusion?”

“-and nobody’s getting laid!” I practically shouted. “You think I don’t know that?” He shifted his body beneath me, making me painfully aware of something. Two somethings, in fact, one of which was how far up my short skirt was. The other wasn’t my problem. I wriggled, to shimmy my hem down, but his expression perished the thought. When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn’t even bother trying.”

“But why had he always felt so strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought so much about it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if it did not matter, and if this little town, and the immortal hills around it, was not the only home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that one day men come home again.”