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Quote by Jamie McGuire

“I need another drink!” I said as a second attempt to change the subject. “Shots!” America yelled. Shepley rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. That’s what you need, another shot.”

Quote by Jamie McGuire

Work

Beautiful Disaster

In this emotionally charged romance, the protagonist navigates a complex relationship marked by passion and chaos. The novel delves into the psychological depths of the characters, offering a raw and unfiltered portrayal of their struggles and the transformative power of love. more

Author

Jamie McGuire
Jamie McGuire

Jamie McGuire is an American author born on November 6, 1978. She is known for her romantic novels, particularly the Beautiful Lies series, which has gained a large following and was adapted into a film. McGuire's works are celebrated for their emotional depth and complex character relationships. more

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“Two applesauce shots, please." I gaped at her. "Shots? God, what are we, in college?" She moved her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. "No, we don't have to be in college to have what I'm sure"- she looked at the bartender- "will be a fantastically prepared, perhaps overflowing shot." He laughed with a shake of his head. "You got it." "It's delicious," she said to me, "Goldschlager and something else. I don't remember. But it totally tastes like applesauce." "Why would anyone want to drink applesauce?" But I was already wondering if it could be reduced to a glaze for pork chops, and made a mental note to find out what was in it.”

“What are those?" Ryker asked. On the table were three large shot glasses, filled with vodka and topped with a spurt of whipped cream and sprinkles. "Pancakes." I took one of the glasses, ready to knock it back. "Dani, those are not pancakes," Ryker said, leaning forward to smell them. "That is vodka." "Potato pancakes," I said, and I knocked mine back. "Don't judge a family tradition, it's a long story and you can't tell me I don't need a shot or three after what I went through." He didn't looked impressed. "You drink as much as Gavin.”

“Just as people are born, live a time, and die by diseases or old age, in the same way republics are formed, flower a few centuries, and perish finally by the audacity of a citizen, or by the weapons of their enemies. All has their period; all empires, and largest monarchies even, have only so much time: the republics feel continually that this time will arrive, and they look at any too-powerful family as the carriers of a disease which will give them the blow of death.”

“This latest shift didn’t really matter all that much: Republic, Empire, it was six to one, half a dozen to the other. It meant little to the average person struggling to make a life. Either form of government could make the mag-levs run on time, and both stepped on individual rights far more than they should. As far as Atour was concerned, the best government was that which governed least. Something a step or two above anarchy would be ideal. Now there was a power-hungry Emperor running things. Both history and personal experience had taught Atour that in as little as a few years, or as much as a few centuries, there would come evolution - or revolution - and this, too, would pass. The new rulers would start out full of promise and hope and good intentions, and gradually settle into mediocrity. A benevolent but inept king was as bad as a despot.”

“We are speaking from our own lived experiences and quoting from our pain, tears, scars, and grief. You are disrespecting us, undermining us, and gaslighting us, trying to rewrite our history by quoting an online satire written by a morally bankrupt person who distorts our reality, because their masters were the ones profiting from our loss.”

“If he doesn’t come out soon and tell us what’s going on, I am going in there.” A rush of relief flooded Harper at the sound of Drea in the hallway. “As much as you think she loves you, shortcake, she loves him a bit more. Give them a minute.” Trent laughed. Harper opened her eyes and looked at him. “My money is on Drea,” she whispered. “Can you get your stupid frigging arms off me?” Drea and Cujo burst through the door. Cujo’s arms were wrapped tightly around Drea’s middle, and the angle she was bending his fingers back to release his grip had to hurt. “I tried to stop her but it’s like getting a feral cat into a shoe box.” Cujo let out a grunt and let Drea go. Harper looked from Cujo to Drea, desperate to bury the laugh she could feel brewing.”