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
The Simi gots some barbecue sauce in her bag. It kind of looks like blood if you squint at it the right way. And it don’t coagulate between your teeth like blood or give you them funky burps, not to mention it tastes a lot better too. Especially over that type A stuff. Bleh! I’d rather eat my shoes. But that O-flavored blood…yum! (She straightened and held one finger up in a gesture that strangely reminded him of Smokey the Bear.) And just remember, kids, three out of four demons all prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin. (Simi)
Cause I’m gonna put my foot so far up their butts they’re going to burp shoe leather. (Nick)
Relax, Phyra. I’d be more concerned if he were in here with my son than with my daughter. The biggest threat he poses is he might want to borrow her shoes. (Stryker)
Look, this isn’t The Mummy. It’s not like a teenaged girl’s diary could resurrect the dead or anything. It’s just the story of her innocuous life. What on earth could an ancient girl have known that would be worth killing someone over? (Tory) You’re asking me that question? People kill each other over a pair of shoes or for wearing the same jacket. (Acheron)
Why didn’t you come tell me he was heading out alone? (Kat) ’Cause he does it all the time. Didn’t think anything about it. But now that you’re here I’ll make sure and keep you updated on everything he does. That way you can cut his meat up for dinner and help him tie his shoes and use the potty, too. (Damien)
I find you irritating. (Kat) I haven’t even begun to irritate you yet. Imagine what I could do if I applied myself? (Solin) I can imagine. I can also imagine ripping your throat out and tying my shoes with your larynx. (Kat)
He didn't want the respect of people who weren’t worth wiping his nose on—people who weren't worth the spatout gum attached to the bottom of his worn-out shoes. The only respect he wanted was from himself and the people who really mattered in his life. The people who really loved and cared about him.
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)