Tammara Webber is an American New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon bestseller novelist.
Now don't laugh 'cause I just might be. . . the soft curve in your hardline. (from the song "Hardliners" by Holcombe Waller)
Please touch me. I need you to touch me.
People rarely said what they thought, or revealed how they felt. No one was honest.
It isn't fair how I doubt him, and I wonder if he'll ever gather that my loss of faith extends further than I'd ever known it would, severing lines of trust and leveling my confidence like a city-flattening tornado.
She's the ulimate heroine, strong-willed and independent, intelligent, loyal, but at the same time, she's not flawless, she's not above mistakes, or falling in love.
He stuck the pencil over his ear, looking unconvinced. "Mmm. What position would you be the most comfortable for you?" I couldn't say aloud the answers that popped into my head at that question, but the flush that spread across my face like wildfire gave me away. He caught his lower lip in his teeth, and I was sure it was to contain a laugh. Most comfortable position? What about with my head stuck under a pillow?
I’ve been thinking about that proof I spoke of last time – that you’re where you’re supposed to be. And it occurred to me, can you prove you’d be better off somewhere else? If you’d have left the state, your relationship would have ended still. Maybe you’d have even blamed yourself, not knowing that it was doomed because of him, either way. Instead, you’re here. You got dumped, skipped class, and met the best econ tutor at the university! Who knows, maybe I’ll make you fall in love with economics.
I used to think of two people in love like that. Like puzzle pieces, fitting together. But it's not like that at all. Love pulls a part of you out, and it pulls a part of him - like taffy, stretching but not separating. The tendrils of each one wrap around the other, until they meld together. One, but not quite. Separate, but not quite.
Really, he could have just punched me in the stomach, because my brain refused to comprehend the words he was saying. A physical assault, it might have understood.
He laughed, and the sound reduced the pain of every sore place on my body to the dullest ache.
I don't know why it's so hard for me to say those three words. Most guys throw it around like breath, like bait.
I could never be afraid of you.
That’s what faith is, right?’ he says. ‘Believing in what can’t be known? Fall into my arms, Dori. I’ll catch you, every time, and I won’t let go.
I’d always disparaged the games people played in pursuit of love - or the next hook up. The whole thing was a competition to see who could get how far, and I could never figure out if there was more luck or skill involved, or some unknowable combination of the two. People rarely said what they thought, or revealed how they felt. No one was honest.
I’ve come to ask how you do it. How you feel what I know you’re feeling and then walk away like that.
First, this is a great job, and i'm excited about it. " "Second, i'm ambitious, but i can succeed almost everywhere. " "What I can't do anywhere is be with you. " "Choosing to be with you isn't a difficult decision, Jacqueline. It's easy. Incredibly easy.
Alcohol removes inhibitions. It doesn't trigger criminal violence where there was none before.
Brooke?” I puff out a sigh. “For chrissake, Reid, who do you think it is? And haven’t you put me into your contacts yet?” “Yeah. . . It just says Satan, though, and I forgot I’d assigned that title to you.
His hands reached for me, gripping my hipbones and pulling me forward. he stared down at me, his voice low. "There are some things I will make time for, Jacqueline.
When you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.