(Yet Another) Reader’s Choice

Here’s mine:

You go through life expecting paper cuts. You go through life learning from knife wounds. You go through life surviving the rest.

www.anniearcane.com/book/hart-broken

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A little rough

Here’s mine:

A sharp jolt of pain shoots through my chest. I cough and pant and whimper all at once. My left arm is burning so fucking bad. My hand tingles and goes numb.

He slips a finger under the waistband of my panties and slowly travels north, making me tense in anticipation. Twisting the lace around his fist, he yanks them aside so damn hard my feet come off the ground. The tip of his dick is inside before I’ve even regained my balance. There’s no warning. He impales me into the trunk a second later.

www.anniearcane.com/book/sinful-silence

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Mad as hell

Here’s mine:

I am pissed.

Absolutely mother-fucking livid.

I might deserve to die for what I did to him, but I don’t deserve this.

The world isn’t well defined. Lines are normally blurry. Boundaries aren’t typically clear. Right isn’t always good and good isn’t always just. Wrong isn’t necessarily bad and bad is rarely objective, if ever. The majority of choices aren’t black-and-white. Most decisions exist only in grayscale.

Except this.

No man, woman, or child deserves this.

He knows that better than anyone.

www.anniearcane.com/book/sinful-silence

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Not good

Here’s mine:

She crumbled into my arms.

Along with her trust in me. Her faith in us. Her belief in forever.

It all fucking crumbled into my arms.

www.anniearcane.com/book/hart-of-mine

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It makes my heart ache

Here’s mine:

I don’t stop him. I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair of me. Instead, I hold perfectly still as he snorts a second line from my skin.

He needs this. He’s not just numbing the pain. He’s numbing life.

Because no matter how hard he tries, he’s never been good at dying.

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Work in progress

Here’s mine:

A wry grin tugs at his lips.

And fuck me, but that tiny movement makes my breath catch. I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry or deck him a good one. Because I forgot how human he looks up close.

I forgot the Devil has dimples.

www.anniearcane.com/book/sinful-silence

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(Another) Reader’s Choice

Here’s mine:

She was a goddamn sorceress, converting acres upon acres of emotional wasteland into sheer paradise. Transforming fifty-foot walls into wide open doors by way of pure magic. Providing me shelter from the storm of my own creation. My own stubbornness. My own self-sabotage.

www.anniearcane.com/book/hart-mine

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