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Quote by Casey McQuiston

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Casey McQuiston

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“On March 12, 2015, the AIM Development Company, that deals in scrap metal, met to discuss demolishing the now defunct Verso Paper Mill in Bucksport, located at the head of Penobscot Bay. The paper mill was first built by the Maine Seaboard Paper Company in 1930. Demolition of the mill is expected to be completed in 2016. However, company representatives and town officials did not discuss what AIM might do with the 250-acre waterfront site once the demolition work is complete. Originally it was believed that a recycling facility, using the deep-water port access to export salvaged metals, would be the most likely thing to be built on this site; however this plan has now been scrapped. In 1980 this mill employed more than 1,350 workers and was the largest employer in Bucksport, a town of about 5,000 residents. The demolition and removal took much longer than anyone expected and as salvage crews continued working, a fire broke out on March 19, 2017. Apparently the fire erupted at about 8:30 a,m. as workers using cutting torches, cut into the metal exterior wall of the mill. Spreading to the roof of the building, it was debated as to the feasibility of allowing the fire to destroy the remaining structure. Considering the safety involved firefighters from Bucksport and surrounding towns extinguished the fire. It is expected that the remaining remnants will be demolished by the middle of 2017 in fact the company has open rail cars in position, waiting to remove whatever is left of the mill.”

“His lips were sweet and gentle. As their mouths moved softly against each other, her heart swelled. Oh, this... this was divine. His tongue gently pushed against her lips as if it wanted to gain entry. She had assumed that this would've been a quick, obligatory lips-only kiss, but she was pleasantly surprised she was wrong. She wanted more, more of him, more of his heat. She opened her mouth for him, and damn. He tasted like the rum from the ponche, and he smelled like freshly chopped firewood. Adrenaline pulsed through her body as he explored her mouth and pressed his hard body against her soft one.”

“Lovely..." he murmured in an enticing baritone that skittered across her nerve endings and induced her abdomen to clench in response. The peculiar salutation snapped her into action, and she whirled to face him. Nervously, she clutched at the towel, desperately striving to shield herself, but his probing examination slithered over her like a tangible caress, lingering on her lips, her breasts, the juncture between her thighs.”

“His lips grazed her earlobe---deliberately, she was sure---his hand rested on the small of her back, and she was overwhelmed by having him so near. With all the attention leveled their way, they were awkwardly conspicuous in a fashion she hated, so she deigned to act as normally as possible. She gripped the mallet, but just when she would have attempted her initial swing, Mr. Stevens reached around her, effectively trapping her in the circle of his arms. "Permit me to instruct you," he said, and chills sped down her spine. "The game goes like this." Warm and magnetic, the entire front of his body was flattened against the back of hers, and she could feel the solid plane of his chest, the curve of his abdomen as he arched over her, the strength of his legs as he balanced her between them. His groin was directly against her posterior, and the sensation produced an exhilarating swirl of butterflies that cascaded through her stomach. Wrapping her small hands in his large ones, he controlled the arc of the stick as it landed with a firm thump, and their ball careened down the hillside. "Very nice," he murmured, though she was quite sure he wasn't referring to the ball or the swing at all.”

“Whoa, Tornado. Where’s the fire?” She should’ve said, “In the stove,” just to be annoying. But that would only be half-true. Because the fire was right here, between them. In the air, popping like static. In his eyes, gone dark and intense. Her breath caught when she realized he was still holding her arms. “I was gonna shower. You’re all fresh, and I probably smell like trail dirt and river water.” “You smell amazing.” He spoke low, and she gave in to desire, her body arching toward him. “Like always.” Finn’s hands fisted in the hem of her hoodie, and he tugged her closer, bringing their hips together. She gasped. “Like a garden after a thunderstorm.”