Writes thoughtful stories about strong, intelligent and complex females and sexy men that fall in love with them.
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Quotes from The Swallow by Isabelle Joshua:
He's a target; this is a mission....
He stops walking and grasps both of my hands to stop me. He narrows his eyes at me. "You’ve never been tickled? Ever?” His lips curl in a wickedly sexy smile. “You’re a tickle…virgin?” I nod and tilt my head down, looking demure. He makes it sound so erotic. I finally find my voice. “It wasn’t a virginity I ever focused on.”
I take a deep breath and let him tilt my shoulders back. I gaze up, and he peers down at me. He kisses my eyes, my mouth—deeply, sensually—stirring my depths. He undresses me as he blesses my skin with his kisses. "Lay down,” he directs. I’m bare, vulnerable, open, and full of love.
“Ah, I love this; I love...your mouth on me.” He feels so good. Ah. His fingers replace his tongue. My emotions bubble up to the surface, screaming for release. I want to tell him how I feel. My eyes gloss with tears. I love him. I love you. I love you. Alex, I love you.
I want to have my friend back, so I need to set him straight. I am by his side and he looks up to see me. I speak before he can say anything. “Are you talking to me yet? Because I don’t believe you’re justified in your anger. I get to make my own decision about the relationships that I may or may not have. And I can choose at what pace I have that relationship. If you don’t like it, then tough. You’re happy—you have Bethany. Let me find my own happiness. You can’t tell me what to do about this. I have to make up my own mind. Okay?”
I feel a strong hand caress my inner elbow and his lips at my ear. “You look good dancing.” I turn and Alex and I share the same breathing space. It’s hard to keep my eyes away from his mouth. “Really? I didn’t realize you saw me.” He narrows his eyes briefly. “I see you.”
Quotes from The Bluebird by Isabelle Joshua:
Rachel moans, “Great. Well, he’s not the only one sexually frustrated.”
I laugh. “Well, then get over these issues so you both can be relieved.”
“How’s Alex?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“I’m sure fine,” I say defensively. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”
“Really? I thought he made a nightly appearance.”
“Rachel, those dreams aren’t him. It’s my f’ed up brain replaying my memories as a form of torture...
Excerpt from The Bluebird, click here.