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Quote by Amanda Elliot

“I'm just not a glitter person," I was telling her as she led me back out into the main space, but the words stopped short when she shoved me in front of the mirrors and there I was, glittering at angle after angle. I almost didn't recognize myself. The dress was another simple A-line in shape, gathered at the bust and flowing past my waist to the floor. Its sleeves were loops that circled around my upper arms, baring my shoulders so that my hair could tumble over them or be tied up high to showcase the elegant flow of my throat into my clavicle, which I'd only just now realized was elegant. The dress was black--- my favorite color--- and covered with tiny chips of what must have been rhinestones, small and subtle and scattered enough where I didn't glow like a disco ball under the lights but instead shimmered whenever I moved. I looked like a princess of the night sky.”

Quote by Amanda Elliot

Book:Love You a Latke
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Love You a Latke

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Amanda Elliot

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“The lass was sleeping and the realization made him smile. He liked that she trusted him so much. He also liked the way she cuddled into him as she did. He liked the heat of her body against his own too. And he liked her smell. Every time her hair whipped into his face, he got a whiff of wildflowers and spring rain. It made him want to duck his head and inhale her scent more fully, and when she sighed and shifted against him again, Conall did. He lowered his head until his nose brushed against her hair, inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as her aroma overwhelmed him, sweet and fresh despite the hours of travel. He wanted to run his hands through her glorious hair and bury his face in the soft tresses while continually inhaling.”

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“She didn't eat meat and hadn't for some time. Rescuing, mending and befriending a wee bird with a broken wing had made it impossible for her to eat the meat of flying creatures, and helping Edmund, the stable master at MacFarlane, mend a bull with a broken leg and then having it follow her everywhere like a dog had added beef to the list of things she wouldn't eat either. By the time Claray was fifteen years old, there wasn't any meat she could bring herself to consume. She'd explained this quietly to Conall and, much to her relief, while he'd looked surprised, he hadn't raised a fuss, and she'd then gone into the woods to find wild berries, mushrooms, wood sorrel and elderflower to munch on to ease her hunger.”

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“Why did ye ask to ride with Hamish?" Conall growled as she decided the baby fox was fine and let it sleep. "Do ye no' like riding with me?" Claray debated making up something that would be less embarrassing to her, but felt her earlier behavior had already put her soul in jeopardy. Lying didn't seem the way to help save it. Humiliating as it was, she supposed she'd have to tell him the truth. "I like riding with ye very much." "Then why ask to ride with Hamish?" "Because I like riding with ye very much," she repeated simply, and then her voice going husky, she admitted, "And I liked yer kisses and caresses in the river. I ken I responded most wantonly to them and have given ye a disgust o' me. I apologize fer that, m'laird, but much as I ken these feelings and desires and me own behavior will surely land me in hell, I can no' stop wanting ye, and would no doubt act the very same way did ye touch or kiss me like that again." She paused to take a breath after blurting that all out, and then added, "So it did seem better to ride with Hamish, who seems nice but does no' make me tingle with just a glance and threaten me soul with damnation by his very existence.”

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“Dear God, at this point, she would be on her knees for a month or more doing penance for the way he made her feel and what she'd let him do both by the river and just now. If she was forced to marry the man and suffer that kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure every single night... Claray shivered at the thought. Part of her reaction was alarm for her poor soul. But a good portion of it had nothing to do with her soul, and everything to do with her body's response to the man. Just the thought of his kisses and touching her every night sent tingles racing through her body that had her wishing he'd kiss and caress her again.”

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“She'd then rushed to embrace the wolf as if he were a long-lost friend. And that's what the horse and wolf were acting like too. Both were licking at her like they were mother cats cleaning a kitten who'd returned after being missing. Conall had reined in at once, and had heard the other men catch up as he dismounted, but had then simply stood staring at his wife and the beasts until Roderick had joined him and spoke. "I guess I win the bet," Roderick commented now, and when the words brought Conall's blank gaze back to him, he shrugged. "Hamish thought the next animal would be a dormouse or pine marten, Payton thought a wildcat, but I bet on a wolf." He grinned, something else he rarely did, and pointed out, "It's a wolf.”

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“Lovey immediately straightened next to her, his ears pulling back as he squinted at him, and then going straight up when Conall continued forward. When he then bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, Claray tightened her fingers in the fur at the back of his neck in warning, then turned to bare her teeth and growl at the wolf in return. Lovey didn't look happy, but he did relax a little. Though she noticed he stood a little taller, puffed out his chest and went back to squinting suspiciously at Conall too. "Wife?" Claray turned to him in question. "Aye, husband?" "Ye just growled at the wolf," he pointed out. "Aye," she agreed, and smiled at him. " 'Tis what he understands.”

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“Curious now, she glanced to its contents and this time did squeal with delight when she saw all the cages holding the furry friends she'd rescued, mended and adopted over the years. At least, the ones that hadn't been released back to the wild: Osborn the three-legged goat, Lowrans the blind wildcat, Grisell the baby cow who couldn't walk when she first saw her and now could but was still quite wobbly on her feet, and of course Brodie the bunny, and her earless little fox.”

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“I have trouble thinkin' o' ye as Bryson," she admitted apologetically. "Ye seem more a Conall to me." "Why?" he asked with interest as he moved a pawn on the board. "Weeell." She drew out the word and then pointed out, "Conall means strong wolf." "And ye like wolves," he teased. Claray glanced to where Lovey was asleep on the bed next to them with Squeak curled up on his back, and smiled faintly. "Aye. I do." Turning back to him, she admitted, "But ye also do seem strong to me. And as a mercenary ye were known as the Wolf. So, it just seems to suit.”

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“A man needed a clear mind to fight his foe, not one distracted with thoughts of whether the fishpond might please his wife. Or who found himself mooning about how she was a hard worker, and so kind-hearted. Or thinking on how her laugh was high and full of joy and made him want to smile. Or daydreaming on how sweet her kisses were, and how good it felt to bury his cock in her warm body. Or wondering whether she might care for him as he'd come to realize he cared for her.”

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