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Quote by Evie James

“5. Dr. Thorin’s voice lingered in my ears. Deep and resonant, the timbre had flowed down my spine and into my most intimate places. It had a panty-melting quality that was impossible to ignore. I found myself thinking absurdly that he could read the dictionary aloud, and I would be utterly enraptured, hanging on every syllable. Damn, his voice alone was auditory erotica, sending a thrill through me that was both unexpected and unsettling.”

Quote by Evie James

Book:Night Shift
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Work

Night Shift

This book delves into the experiences of individuals who labor during the night, offering a glimpse into their unique challenges and personal stories. more

Author

Evie James

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“This isn’t about your pleasure; it’s about mine,” I hissed in her ear. “Tonight, you’re gonna need a safe word. Say it now!” Samantha’s legs were shaking, but even so, she turned her head and gave me a coy little smile, daring me to unleash my worst. That was when I realized I’d been a pawn to her queen in this game of hers since the moment I’d given her unfettered access to my world—fuuuck! “Say it now, Samantha!” I threatened. She inhaled deeply, wincing in pain, and hissed out, “As you wish.” Those three tantalizing words hung in the air between us, causing my dick to jerk to attention. A red haze fell over my vision, and I lost all control.”

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Book:Night Shift
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“I understood so much more about who he was, about the walls he had built and the reasons he’d built them. This was a pivotal moment because I finally understood the depth of Atticus’s emotional scars and now realized why the bond that had formed between us was so strong. It had been forged in the crucible of shared pain.”

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Book:Night Shift
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“The Author To Her Book Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth did'st by my side remain, Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad exposed to public view, Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge, Where errors were not lessened (all may judge). At thy return my blushing was not small, My rambling brat (in print) should mother call. I cast thee by as one unfit for light, The visage was so irksome in my sight, Yet being mine own, at length affection would Thy blemishes amend, if so I could. I washed thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw. I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet. In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun cloth, i' th' house I find. In this array, 'mongst vulgars may'st thou roam. In critic's hands, beware thou dost not come, And take thy way where yet thou art not known. If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none; And for thy mother, she alas is poor, Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.”

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Book:The Works of Anne Bradstreet
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