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Quote by Allegra Goodman

“She had no idea how George delighted in her funny ways, or watched her through the window as she stood outside, finishing an apple or nibbling sunflower seeds. She did not register his glances, his quick inventory of her clothes, his pleasure in her face and wrists. She did not know his heart.”

Quote by Allegra Goodman

Work

The Cookbook Collector

This book explores the life of an individual deeply fascinated by the culinary history encapsulated in vintage cookbooks. The story delves into the collector's personal journey, intertwining his obsession with the art of cooking and the stories behind each book he acquires. more

Author

Allegra Goodman
Allegra Goodman

Allegra Goodman is an American author born in 1967. Her works span various literary genres, including novels, short story collections, and children's literature. Goodman's writing often explores moral dilemmas, social justice, and the complexities of human behavior. more

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“You're rather good at this, aren't you?" And she didn't just mean his reading of Gerrard. Vane's grin converted to a rakish smile. "I'm rather good at lots of things." His voice had lowered to a rumbling purr. He leaned closer. Patience tried, very hard, to ignore the vise slowly closing about her chest. She kept her eyes on his, drawing ever nearer, determined that she wouldn't- absolutely would not- allow her gaze to drop to his lips. As her heartbeat deepened, she raised one brow challengingly. "Such as?" By the time Patience reached that conclusion, she was utterly breathless- and utterly enthralled by the heady feelings slowly spiraling through her. Vane's confident possession of her lips, her mouth, left her giddy- pleasurably so. His hard lips moved on hers, and she softened, not just her lips, but every muscle, every limb. Slow heat washed through her, a tide of simple delight that seemed to have no greater meaning, no deeper import. It was all pleasure, simple pleasure. With a mental sigh, she lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. He shifted closer. Patience thrilled to the slow surge of his tongue against hers. Boldly, she returned the caress, the muscles beneath her hands tensed. Emboldened, she let her lips firm against his, and reveled in his immediate response. Hard transmuted to harder; lips, muscles, all became more definite, more sharply defined. It was fascinating- she became softer- he became harder. And behind his hardness came heat- a heat they both shared. It rose like a fever, turning the swirling pleasure hot. Beyond the caress of his lips, he hadn't touched her, yet every nerve in her body was heating, simmering with sensation. The warm tide spread, swelled; the temperature increased. And she was flushed, restless- wanting.”

“Gasping desperately, she clenched her hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep. His lips firmed, he suckled gently- Patience felt the earth quake. The heat of his mouth shocked her- the wet sweep of his tongue scalded her. She gave a strangled cry. That sound, keenly feminine, acutely evocative, caught and focused Vane's attention. Focused every hunter's instinct. Desire heightened, need escalated. His demons turned frenzied- her siren's song lured them on. Urged him on. Compulsion swelled- tense, turbulent, powerful. Desire seethed hotly. He drew a ragged breath- And remembered- all he'd nearly forgotten, all her wild responses had driven from his mind. This was one seduction he had to, need to, manage perfectly- this time, there was meaning beyond the act. Seducing Patience Debbington was too important to rush- conquering her senses, her body, was only the first step. He didn't want her just once- he wanted her for a lifetime. Dragging in a shuddering breath, Vane caught hold of his reins and hauled his impulses up short. Something in him wailed with frustration. He shut his mind to the relentless pounding of his arousal. And set himself to soothe hers. He knew how. There were planes of warm desire on which women could float, neither driven, nor quiescent, but simply buoyed on a sea of pleasure. With hands and lips, mouth and tongue, he soothed her fever flesh, took the sting from her aches, the edge from her passion, and eased her into that pleasured sea. Patience was beyond understanding- all she knew was the peace, the calm, the profound pleasure that welled and washed through her. Content, she flowed with the tide, letting her senses stretch. The whirling that had disoriented her slowed; her mind steadied. Full consciousness, when it came, was no shock; the continuing touch of Vane's hands, the artful caress of his lips, his tongue, were familiar- no threat.”

“BLACK AND WHITE I was born into A religion of Light, But with so many other Religions and Philosophies, How do I know which ONE Is right? Is it not My birthright To seek out the light? To find Truth After surveying all the proof, Am I supposed To love Or fight? And why do all those who Try to guide me, Always start by dividing And multiplying me – From what they consider Wrong or right? I thought, There were no walls For whoever beams truth and light. And how can one speak on Light's behalf, lf all they do Is act black, But talk WHITE?”

“Where indeed is the happiness in this worldly life? These are illusory beliefs. That is why ‘we’ openly say that, “The happiness that you seek cannot be found in ‘this’ (worldly life). Happiness is in the Self (Atma).” ‘We’ have tasted that happiness, ‘we’ have experienced it. That is why ‘we’ tell everyone, “Come on ‘this side’ (of the Self), there is no happiness on the ‘other side’ (in worldly life)!”