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Quote by Jamie Carie

“Then he, too, collapsed to his knees in the grass. His heart rushed so in his chest, he thought he might die. Eyes closed, he saw his life, all the events leading to this moment. He saw his mother, glowing and smiling down at him, so very pleased. He saw himself as a child playing in a stream, with his shirt and socks hidden on the bank so he wouldn't be caught. He saw his father, Ivor, a stern face glaring down at him. But then he saw beyond the face into his father's eyes- and saw Ivor as a frightened little boy. And then he saw 'her.' Serena. A bright light illuminated her face and then faded, and he saw her as warm and living and real. He could almost reach out and touch her. But she vanished, replaced in his mind's eyes by the coal miners and the filthy wretchedness of the children, of Robbie- And suddenly, Drake knew. His mission was as clear as if God had spoken it aloud. In those few moments, everything fell into place: the man he had tried to be and the man he was created to be. It was as though a key were turned, a locked-up place opened, and all the people, all the events that led to this moment suddenly made sense as never before. Throwing his eyes open, he gulped in air. The preacher was praying for the souls of all those in the audience, and Drake grasped hold of that prayer with all that he had. 'Yes.' The word resounded within him. 'Yes! Yes!' His spirit soared, his hands lifted toward heaven without any fear or shame. 'Save me, Lord Jesus. Save me, too!' God's response came, swift and sure, and Drake had never felt so light... so alive. So deeply, deeply loved.”

Quote by Jamie Carie

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The Duchess and the Dragon

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Jamie Carie

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“Then I think-" she paused, and he could see her battle sudden tears of her own- "that I am ready to love the dragon again." He shook his head. "No... no more dragons, I promise." She cupped his face in between her hands. "Oh Drake, do you not see? You will always have a little of the dragon in you, and you should. It will aid you in your mission to change some of the atrocities of our world. And what lies between you and me... it no longer matters. For you see, dragon or no, I have become a knight." She smiled through her tears. "Your petit chevalier, in truth. I first protected the dragon, but God has tamed him. And I have always loved him. So breathe on, and make your fire. For I am not afraid." They cried together then, staring into each other's eyes. It was the end of one thing and the beginning of another. And Drake had no doubt. The love between them had been tested, purified by God's fire, even as the smith refines his silver. And now... it was ready to be poured forth, molded into their story.”

“That's when she saw his gaze drift downward, alighting on the heart-shaped pendant clasped around her neck. "You're wearing it," he said, his words carrying a wondering tone. Reaching up, she fingered the amethysts, then smoothed her thumb over the flat piece of porcelain in the center with its tiny painted garden. "Yes. Because I realize now that it was given in love." "It was, even if I was too blind to know it at the time. Something else for which I must beg your forgiveness." "It's yours." She laid her palm on his chest near his heart. "Did you really carry the pendant around with you when we were apart?" "Constantly. It made me feel closer to you. Strange, I suppose, considering you wore it for such a brief time." "Not so strange," she reassured. "I kept a handkerchief of yours, though I never planned to tell you that." Leaning near, he pressed his lips to hers. "Besotted. The pair of us." "Definitely.”

“Signor Renzo's lodge stood on a grassy knoll near the crest of the hill. It was a modest place, just a low stone hut, before which stretched a woven ceiling of vines. My dinner was cooked on an open fire by the table. This was no banquet, but what the cook called a pique-nique, a meal for hunters to take outdoors. After Renzo had chosen two fat ducklings from his larder, he spitted them over the fire. Then he made a dish of buttery rice crowned with speckled discs of truffle that tasted powerfully of God's own earth. 'Come sit with me,' I begged, for I did not like him to wait on me. So together we sat beneath the vines as I savored each morsel and guessed at the subtle flavorings. 'Wild garlic?' I asked, and he lifted his brows in surprise as he ate. 'And a herb,' I added, 'sage?' 'For a woman, you have excellent taste.' For a woman, indeed! I made a play of stabbing him with my knife. It was most pleasant to eat our pique-nique and drink the red wine, which they make so strong in that region that they call it black or nero. I asked him to speak of himself, and between a trial of little dishes of wild leaves, chestnut fritters, and raisin cake, Signor Renzo told me he was born in the city and had worked at a pastry's cook shop as a boy, where he soon discovered that good foods mixed with ingenious hands made people happy and free with their purses.”

“Lou recovered some foie gras, duck confit, and assorted veggies and herbs. As she grabbed the items, a menu started bubbling to the surface: foie gras ravioli with a cherry-sage cream sauce, crispy goat cheese medallions on mixed greens with a simple vinaigrette, pan-fried duck confit, and duck-fat-roasted new potatoes with more of the cherry-sage cream sauce. For dessert, a chocolate souffle with coconut crisps.”

“The expensive wine coated my throat with warm notes of fig and vanilla. Mozzarella melted like cream on my tongue and a jumble of lacy and tubular wild mushrooms lent an earthy heartiness to a glistening plate of homemade pappardelle.The dessert- my litmus test for any restaurant, of course- was a flourless chocolate cake so dense and rich that most people would have put down their forks, happily satiated, after a few bites. But Jake knew to untangle his hand from mine when the waiter set the two plates down on the table. Within minutes, I'd finished my entire slice. 'Be still,' I thought, 'o heart of mine,' when I looked up to see that Jake had also scraped his plate clean. 'Finally,' I thought, grinning at him, not caring that my teeth were probably stained a lovely shade of dark chocolate. 'A real man.”