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
When I was younger, I never thought there could be anything better than the glory of battle. (Sparhawk) And now? (Taryn) Now I would much rather coax a smile from your face. (Sparhawk)
You’re being remanded into Gourish custody…dead. (a Partini) ‘Cause let’s face it, dead was just easier. Or so they thought.’ (Syn)
What happened to Darling’s face? (Kiara) It got his. Repeatedly. (Syn)
Nick rubbed his hand across his face as he tried to make sense of her prattle. But that was the thing about Simi. She seldom made sense.
I swear if that's a pair of demon horns digging into my belly and stabbing me right now, Ash, I'm going to beat you after it's born." 'Cause face it, horns on the head didn't come from my side of the family or genetic code.
sasha growled low in his throat. "Send the wolf to watch them," he mocked in falsetto. His nostrils flared. "I swear Z, if I live, I'm going to rip that damned goatee off your face and stick your shaving cream in the fridge.
In the end, life makes victims of us all.
Funny how internal scars never healed. They were the souvenirs of the past.
Everyone wants someone they can hold and love. Someone who will be there to help pick up the pieces when everything falls apart. (Acheron)
You might wanna rethink that, boy. 'Cause if I'm going to get sued for offensively touching you, I'm going to make it worth my while.
I am a socially akward man-dork"-Nick
Ash sarcastically rang an invisible bell with his hand. "Ding, ding, ding. Give that boy a tropphy.
Intentions don't matter. It's the end result we're all judged by. Evil in the name of good is still evil. And when you dance with the devil, you seldom get to pick the tune.
The only vampires I've ever seen are the Goths trying to get a glimpse of Anne Rice's house, who drink strawberry sodas and tell each other it's blood.