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Quote by Erin La Rosa

“Why don't you take your broom and ride off on the local coven meeting?" He ran a hand through his unfairly thick hair. "Back in five!" "That would be great for the show's ratings. All alone, you'd rock that demo of viewers who love watching paint dry." Nina smirked, happy to have the last dig before they went on-air.”

Quote by Erin La Rosa

Book:For Butter or Worse
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For Butter or Worse

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Erin La Rosa

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“I know you're not familiar with what a real restaurant is like, but the front door isn't usually located in the alley," she snapped. He clicked his tongue before responding. "See, for a moment I was wondering if I'd made a mistake coming here. But I'd hate to miss this witty repartee." "It's not repartee if I'm the only one with wit." She straightened, like one of those exotic birds she'd seen in an episode of Planet Earth when they wanted to intimidate predators. "Why do you look like an extra from SVU?" Leo pulled down the hood and took off his sunglasses. "Did you know there are paparazzi outside your restaurant? I'm surprised they're willing to drive this far east." He shook his head to himself. "Why have a restaurant in Silver Lake? It's like the Brooklyn of LA . Shouldn't you be in West Hollywood, where the real money is?" "If I'd known there was a portal from hell located so close by I would've reconsidered the location." Less than a minute in Leo's presence, and she'd slipped back into insult mode as easily as popping dark chocolate into her mouth. The taste of knocking him down a peg was as sweet as always.”

LocationEnemies To Lovers RomanceThrowing ShadeSweet RevengeOverpowered
Book:For Butter or Worse
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“Chloe talked Clare through the information she needed to hack into the system and guided her screen by screen. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and her laptop screen lit up with lines of white code. "I'm in," Chloe said after five stressful minutes. "It wasn't that secure at all." "I'm looking at the screen, but I don't see anything," Clare said over the video chat. "Where are the files?" "I didn't give you access. I gave me access." Chloe shot me a sly grin. "You and Vito can meet us here and Simi can share what we find." Clare's lips pressed into a thin line. "I didn't think subterfuge was your style." "You never made an effort to get to know me," Chloe said. "Never trust a hacker." "My mom is the bomb." Olivia pumped her fist. "I'm going to be a hacker just like her." "You can be a white-hat hacker and help people," Chloe replied. "If I ever catch you doing black-hat hacking like this, I'll take your phone away forever.”

Throwing ShadeHacker
Book:'Til Heist Do Us Part
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“The worst part of this obscenity, this shameless visibility, is the forced participation, this automatic complicity of the spectator who has been blackmailed into participating. And it is this which is the clearest objective of the operation: the servitude of the victims, but a voluntary servitude, one in which the victims rejoice from the pain and shame which they are made to suffer. The complete participation of a society in its fundamental mechanism: interactive exclusion - it doesn’t get better than that! Decided all together and consumed with enthusiasm.”

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Book:Telemorphosis
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“I have to let go of all comparison, all rivalry and competition, and surrender to the Father’s love. This requires a leap of faith because I have little experience of non-comparing love. I can only remain in the resentful complaint that results from my comparisons. In the light of God I can finally see my neighbor as my brother, as the one who belongs as much to God as I do. But outside of God’s house, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, lovers and friends become rivals and even enemies; each perpetually plagued by jealousies, suspicions, and resentments.”

LoveGodFaithSpiritualityTheologyRivalryParablesProdigal SonComparisonsResentfulness
Book:The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming
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“Las dos buenas hermanas La Lujuria y la Muerte son dos amables muchachas, pródigas en besos y ricas en salud, cuyo vientre siempre virgen y cubierto de harapos pese al cultivo eterno, jamás fructificó. Al poeta siniestro, enemigo de las familias, favorito del infierno, cortesano de rentas escasas, tumbas y burdeles muestran bajo sus enramadas un lecho que nunca frecuentó el remordimiento. Y la caja de muerto y la alcoba fecundas en blasfemias por turno nos ofrecen, como dos buenas hermanas, terribles placeres y espantosas dulzuras. Lujuria de brazos inmundos, ¿cuándo quieres enterrarme? Y tú, Muerte, su rival en atractivos, ¿cuándo vendrás a injertar en sus mirtos infectos tus oscuros cipreses?”

MuertePoesiaLujuria
Book:Les Fleurs Du Mal
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