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Kristen Callihan

Kristen Callihan is an author because there is nothing else she'd rather be. She is a RITA winner and three-time nominee and winner of two RT Reviewer's Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from Publisher's Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine's Seal of Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal, best book of Spring 2012 by Publisher's Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012 by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.


“My mind is filled.''With what?' she whispered.'You. All the time. You.' He sighed. 'Daisy has taken up residence here.' Yet it was to his heart he pressed her hand, to feel its pounding. 'How to keep you safe. How to keep you out. How to keep... you.”
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“Archer's finger grazed hers. 'I feel you. As if you were connected to me by an invisible string.' He touched his chest. 'I feel you here. In my heart.”
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“The scent of book leather and lemons enveloped him, and his head went light. Books and clean woman. Had God ever divined a more perfect perfume?”
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“Billy's Adam's apple bobbed. "Don't-" The knife at his throat cut him short.Black Tom cocked a thick brow. "Don't, wha? Hurt your littl' toffer?" Rotted teeth flashed. "She mean that much ta ye, then?"Bill licked his lips quickly. His skin took on a grayish hue as sweat seeded over his high brow. "Don't piss 'er off," he managed.”
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“She ought to call him Benjamin, but it was too intimate, too soft. "My lord?" she ventured, only half serious."Good, God, no."She bit back a smile. "Husband?" she took a sip of wine.He grunted. "Are we to become Quakers?”
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“What is beauty or ugliness but a false front that prompts man to make assumptions rather than delving deeper.”
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“You're collecting pieces of me, aren't you?" His voice turned thick as warm toffee, rolling over her skin, heating it. "A bit here. A bit there. Soon you'll set me out on the table, to try and fit me back together."Ignoring the flurries plaguing her belly, she affected blandness. "I've only got the corners. But it is a start."A warm breath touched her neck. "I believe you have the centerpiece as well.”
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“Know this, there is only one truth left to me." His trembling fingertips caressed her jaw. "That I love you." He said it again, his voice broken, his arms pulling her tightly against him. "I love you. The rest is darkness."Her fingers curled around the smooth swells of his biceps. "Then let me be your light.”
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“His steps slowed to a stop. “Why?” His voice was a ghost in the quiet. “Why give me your trust when you know it is such an easy thing to break?”“Perhaps the easy giving of it will make it harder to break”
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“We are all imperfect creatures, love. I don't want perfect. I just want you.”
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“Lord above, was there a better sight than a woman flush with passion, her skin dewy and pink, her breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts?”
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“He took a quick breath, and his voice dropped. "You've no notion of the effect you have on me"The words gave a hard tug to her belly. She closed her eyes and swallowed. "If by effect, you mean finding yourself in unchartered waters, wondering whether you are coming or going...." She stared at his shirt, watching his breath hitch. "Then I fear you have the same effect on me, my lord.”
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“Their eyes met, and that spark of something hot and sharp ripped through her again. Awareness. It took a moment to realize, but that was it. She was utterly aware of him. Of the breadth of his shoulders, the deep even way he breathed, the force of his gaze. Bloody hell, but she we beset by the craving to touch him, testing the strength in those shoulders.”
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“I feel you," he said, "whether stalking me through the streets of London, or hiding behind a screen in my library.”
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“Slowly, her slim hand smoothed over the swell of his buttock, lingering there. A shocked laugh choked his throat, the sound muddled by a stifled groan that her intrigued touch elicited. The saucy little sneak thief was copping a feel. He felt inclined to turn around and let her get a handful.”
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“With the suddneness of a cat leaping upon its prey, he leaned forward and caught up her wrist. "Tread lightly, Miranda Fair." His thumb moved lightly over her fluttering pulse, as she stared with her mouth assuredly hanging open in shock, her heart beating furiously within her breast."You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil." His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her fingers glistening with pear juice. "Had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off of your fingers.”
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“His chin jutted forward in a rather pugnacious manner. "I should not have to explain myself to my wife.""And I should not have to ask for an explanation. Yet here we are.”
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