Sherrilyn Kenyon
Sherrilyn Kenyon
Sherrilyn Kenyonis a bestselling US writer. Under her own name she writes urban fantasy, and is best known for her Dark Hunter series. Under the pseudonym Kinley MacGregor she wrote historicals also with paranormal elements. Kenyon's novels have an "international following" with over 30 million copies in print in over 100 countries. Under both names, her books have appeared at the top of the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and USA Today lists, and they are frequent bestsellers in Germany,...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
CountryUnited States of America
(Unsure if she should laugh or groan, Astrid held fast to the tank before her as Zarek pushed the snowmachine to the limits. It vibrated so badly that she half-expected it to disintegrate underneath them.) Cap’n, I don’t think she’ll hold. The warp engines can’t take any more. It’s going to blow apart. (Astrid)
You know, for the record, I hate to take orders. But! I realize I'm in over my head. You have no idea how much I hate all this supernatural garbage. So I'm willing to listen to you, but you better start acting like I'm a person and not some mindless blow-up doll. (Amanda)
The strongest steel is forged by the fires of hell. It is pounded and struck repeatedly before it's plunged back into the molten fire. The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it STRENGTH. Those two thing make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it's called upon to fight.
Verbal blows cut to the soul and ate at the heart for eternity.
It's settled, then," Grace said. She turned back to Nick. "Take the Jag to the car wash and for heaven's sake clean the McDonald's Happy Meal boxes out of it." "Hey," Nick said, his face offended. "That's a low blow. Those boxes are collectibles.
If you betray me, Leta…Kill me. Be kind and don’t let me live in the shadow of your cruelty. I can’t take another blow like that. I’m not that strong. (Aiden)
Yeah. I don’t need much, and whatever else I need I’m sure I can buy since the Council knows that I am the charmed one who has to be humored lest the big bad Norseman go a Viking on their heads. (Chris)
So you guys fought some Daimons, huh? Wish I could. Wulf goes nuts if I even pick up a butter knife. (Chris)
I’m protecting her. (Wulf) From? (Chris) Daimons. (Wulf) Big bad ones. (Cassandra)
Then why can’t I bully you into procreating? (Wulf) See! I’m the only human in history to have Viking yenta of his very own. God, how I wish my father had been a fertile man. (Chris)
No, no, no. This ain’t right. I finally find a woman who’ll actually let me into her place and you bring her home for you? Oh, please tell me you brought her home for you and not for me. You didn’t pimp me out again, Wulf, did you? I swear I’ll stake you in your sleep if you did. (Chris)
You mean you don’t know? (Wulf) No. In fact, I’m thinking right now that one, if not both of us, needs to put down the crack pipe and start this night over. (Cassandra)
I just love to put a hurt on evil things. (Katra)
You know the beauty of driving one of these? (Wulf) No. (Cassandra) You can swat a Daimon like a mosquito. (Wulf) Well, since they’re both bloodsucking insects, I say go for it. (Cassandra)