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Quote by Lorraine Heath

“Austin could do little more than stare at the woman. "It's a prairie dog," he reminded her. Cautiously, she brushed her fingers over its head. "It's just a baby. Please help her." Dee was looking at him with so much hope in her big brown eyes that he couldn't do what he knew needed to be done. He slipped his gun into his holster. Thank God, she was married to his brother and not to him. Dallas could break her heart. Austin wouldn't.”

Quote by Lorraine Heath

Book:Texas Glory
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Texas Glory

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Author

Lorraine Heath
Lorraine Heath

Lorraine Heath is a renowned American romance novel author, born in 1954. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won her a large fan base. more

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“I had done something wrong. I shouldn't have shown him. But he had known, hadn't he? What had I done? I retreated quickly down the aisle, pushing my way through the double doors into the porch, where I swiped one of my eyes dry. For a long moment I stood in the dim room, looking blankly at the flyers for bake sales and Bible studies on the noticeboard. Then I heard him shout, "Damn you! Why?" I looked through the clear glass of the porch doors to see if he spoke to some barely seen faerie. But to my eyes, there was no one there but Luke and God.”

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“Hey, buddy. Are you ready to swim with Joshua? And eat hot dogs?” Brady nodded. “Hot dogs! Thew’s a pawty in my tummy!” He giggled and grinned at me. I rolled my eyes and set him down on the floor. “You’re going to make me sing it back?” He nodded, bouncing. I rubbed my hand over my stomach. “So yummy, so yummy.” He fell back onto his bottom and rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter. “No more YoGabbaGabba, li’l man. It makes Dee’s brain crazy.”

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“That's the second reporter to call me 'boyish.'" "Boyish is nice," Dee offers. He tips his head towards her. "I'm nineteen. I'm not boyish." "It's your hair," I tell him without glancing up from the magazine, and Dee laughs. "My hair?" he asks, incredulous. "What's wrong with my hair?" "Nothing. But you had it that way when you were younger, right? During the Finch Four years?" He frowns. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know." "Yeah," Dee says. "You did. Same haircut. Kind of almost shaggy." "Shaggy?" "Yeah." I gesture near his ear. "It sort of starts to curl right here. The look is a little..." Dee and I both study his face for a moment. "...boyish," Dee decides. We both giggle, and Matt's eyes widen as if we've betrayed him. "Girls are mean! I'm bailing out of this bus at the next rest stop." "Unlikely," I tell him.”

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“If you love her, let her know; if you are not sure about her, let her go. If you love him, it will show; if you are not sure about him, let him go. Waste no time attaching to detach...only grasp what you desire to hold to - otherwise, why even reach for what you've no need to cherish in your hold? This is folly, this is not the action of the wise and the old. Cease reaching for what tempts and reach for what rewards lest your hands continue to callous from your relentless need to reach for what most assuredly burns.”

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“Deep spirit scanning,” Eisfanger says. His voice has a strange resonance to it, like I’m hearing him through a bad phone connection. “Don’t worry, it’s completely safe. Well, mostly.” “Mostly?” “Side effects have been documented,” he admits. “In a very small percentage of cases. Less than two percent.” “What kind of side effects?” Suddenly I’m feeling nauseous. Feels like the ants are crawling around inside me now, which is exactly as disturbing as it sounds. “Memory loss. Synesthesia. And occasionally … vestigial growths.” “So I could forget my own name, start smelling purple everywhere and have an extra nipple sprout from my forehead?”

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