Diana Holquist
The Official Bio
I love to write. That’s pretty much all I do. Ask my family about the undone laundry, the un-bought groceries, and the fact that I rarely find time to get dressed in the morning. Actually, if you train your family right, they won’t notice any of these things. "Popcorn for dinner again, mom! Cool," say my filthy children. God bless them, they don’t know what panty hose are.
Oh, my poor husband.
Anyway, it took me a long time to figure out WHAT to write. So I spent years writing ads, brochures, and company reports. If I had to give advice to anyone--which, thankfully, I don’t--it would be that if you want to write books, start now. In fact, get the heck off this website and do it.
(First, throw your TV out the window. Good. Now write.)
Are you still here?
Okay, then you must be a pure reader (or my mother). Good for you. No money in writing. Best to have a real job.
What else do you want to know about me? I love kids. I love cats. I love chocolate. (Not necessarily in that order.) I live just outside of Philadelphia with kids and cats and my dear husband.
“Whatever he had found, it made him a better person. Maybe that's what love was, finding the person who brings out the best in you and eliminates the worst.”
“She had built a safe world where love didn't matter—and now she had nothing but stuff.”
“Jasmine believes in a prophecy that says she is destined to love a man named Josh Toby. Okay, fine. He could believe that. Hell, he had friends who believed carbohydrates were the work of the devil. True love made sense at least. ”
“Not the title. Not the riches. Not the bravery. Not the glory. Just the man. The simple man, standing before her, looking into her eyes as if he saw just the woman. For the first time in their lives, they were truly alone.—From The Dulcet Duke”
“Whatever is wrong in the world, there is still this; there is still us. We can attack each other until we’ve reached the core, and there, no matter how violent the approach, is peace.—From The Dulcet Duke”
“He had her alone in the garden. Her moist lips. The moonlight in her eyes. A lesser man would be merely tempted. A greater man would surely resist. A man like him would indulge, and without regret. —From The Dulcet Duke”
“There comes a time in every scoundrel’s life when he catches a glimpse of what he might have been. Only if he catches it in the reflection of the right woman’s eye, is there hope for reform. —From The Dulcet Duke”
“He lifted the book from the purse. The cover sported a painting of a stunning redhead in a long, pink gown who stared out the window over rolling green hills. The cover was slightly narrower than the rest of the book, and from underneath peeked out what looked to be a second cover. He turned the page and was startled at what he saw. Another full-color painting, but this one of a shirtless man smashing the heavily bosomed redhead onto a red couch. Her clothes were torn and their torsos met violently. The man’s face was savage; the woman’s head thrown back in surrender. Sam flicked back and forth between the image of the prim, composed woman on the front cover and her ribald, passionate abandon on the inside cover. He glanced out the window to see Ally emerge onto the street below, her head held high and her gait tight and focused as she marched away, prim and composed. He flipped to the inside cover.Hot damn.”
“A woman like Ally would have to be fought for, broken down, uncovered layer by reluctant layer. And he had the feeling that every layer would reveal something fascinating, unusual, worth the fight. Deep roots, as it were, instead of plastic artifice.”