A Quote by Angela Knight

Sylvia Day spins a gorgeous adventure in A Touch of Crimson that combines gritty, exciting storytelling with soaring lyricism. Adrian is my favorite kind of hero--an alpha male angel determined to win the heart of his heroine, Lindsay, while protecting her from his lethal enemy. Lindsay is a gutsy, likable woman with paranormal abilities of her own, as well as a dedication to protecting humanity against a race of demonic monsters. This is definitely a book for your keeper shelf.
A Touch of Crimson explodes with passion and heat. A hot, sexy angel to die for and a gutsy heroine make for one exciting read!
In 2007, Lindsay Lohan seemed to be on top of the world, a bona fide star who had her pick of acting gigs. But it wasn't long before the veneer cracked, and Lindsay's life began to shatter.
But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand.
Always man needs woman for his friend. He needs her clearer vision, her subtler insight, her softer thought, her winged soul, her pure and tender heart. Always woman needs man to be her friend. She needs the vigor of his purpose, the ardor of his will, his calmer judgment, his braver force of action, his reverence and his devotion.
According to Life & Style Weekly, 50 Cent may be working on Lindsay Lohan's next album. Finally, a match made in rap heaven. He's a convicted drug dealer who's been shot nine times, and she spent 84 minutes in prison. This is a big step for Lindsay. The last time Lindsay got near a black guy she ran over his foot.
When you were the son of evil, there was little you couldn't do, own, or kill, and yet her mortal self was an elusive trophy he could touch, but not put on his shelf. This made her rare. This made her precious. This made him...love her.
You promised you wouldn't tell her," she says, pointing at me. "What happened to protecting her?" "I changed my mind," I say. Tris laughs, harshly,"That's what you told him, that he would be protecting me? That's a pretty skillful manipulation. Well done.
Democracy maintains that government is established for the benefit of the individual, and is charged with the responsibility of protecting the individual, and is charged with the responsibility of protecting the rights of the individual and his freedom in the exercise of his abilities. Democracy is based on the conviction that man has the moral and intellectual capacity, as well as the inalienable right, to govern himself with reason and justice.
The male is just a bundle of conditioned reflexes, is incapable of a mentally free response, is tied to his early conditioning, is determined completely by his past experiences. His earliest experiences are with his mother, and he is throughout his life tied to her. It never becomes completely clear to the male that he is not part of his mother, that he is him and she is her.
You're not the first Elite Ops agent to fall in love and you won't be the last," Ian informed him (Nik). "I've watched four of you fall so far, and I'll be here to watch your commander go down fighting as well. Protecting your woman isn't your problem; it's protecting your heart.
She had fallen asleep with her head on his arm, the clockwork angel, still around her throat, resting against his shoulder just to the left of his collarbone. As she moved away, the clockwork angel slipped free and she saw to her surprise that where it had lain against his skin it had left a mark behind, no bigger than a shilling, in the shape of a pale white star.
... he broke her heart and made her crave his touch even while she was trying to figure out where to hide his body.
He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.
Beneath her cheek, his heart was thumping steadily. Definitely faster than his usual near-hibernation beat. Lifting her head, she flashed him a tight smile. “I get to you.” “Are you kidding? You own me,” he said, his voice running over her like silk.
Her eyes burned, her muscles ached, but in some strange and secret place, she was happy to finally be doing something that wasn't just protecting herself, but protecting other people, too.
Finally, here at home, in one of her first decisions as Secretary of State, she set up a private e-mail server in her basement in violation of our national security. Let's face the facts: Hillary Clinton cared more about protecting her own secrets than she cared about protecting America's secrets.
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