book-feature

Did you all notice the novel she was reading before Daryl showed up? Denim Dreams, the kind of book featuring a cover of a buff, half-naked cowboy lassoing a mustang with one hand and getting to grips with his latest love interest with the other… she set aside the book to be reunited with buff, brooding Daryl. When Carol met Daryl-what a touching scene.
—  TheGuardian
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28|7 today i 

  • went to work from 7.00-3.00
  • went to the bank 
  • then into university to sort out some finance issues 
  • popped into paperchase to waste some £££
  • made and applied a avocado mask onto my dry hair
  • sorted through one side of my desk drawer
  • tidied up my room 

and now i’m pooped, i hope your thursday has been a productive one, here’s to a less strenuous friday!!

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BOOKS I READ IN 2016: Not Your Sidekick by C.B. Lee

What makes you think I want to keep doing that? I want to be my own person, be liked for who I am, not just for copying you!

Love and First Sight: Chapter One

Vice Principal Larry Johnston extends his hand.

To clarify: I don’t see this. I hear the swish of his shirtsleeve.

“Nice to meet you, William.”

The fabric sound plays again&emdash;the hand retracting.

“I’m sorry, I guess you can’t do that now, can you? You probably want to feel my face?”

He grabs my arm and smacks my palm against his cheek, knocking me off balance so I have to step into the musk of his aftershave.

“Where do you normally start? Eyes? Nose? Mouth?”

He shifts my fingers across the front of his face with each suggestion. His skin is rough and pockmarked, like the outside of an orange.

“No, actually, I don’t do that,” I say, pulling my hand away. “I identify people based on their voices.”

“And…also…” I add. I can’t resist. “Yes?” he asks, all eager to please.

“Well, I don’t usually touch faces, but I am gifted with a heightened sense of smell that allows me to recognize a person’s pheromones, which are concentrated just below the ear, so if you wouldn’t mind … ?”

I touch my pointer finger to my nose.

His excitement drops. “Oh…you want to…smell… my ear?”

Keep reading

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Loving v. Virginia was the landmark civil rights decision by the United States Supreme Court that invalidated laws preventing inter-racial marriage. Virginia had strict anti-miscegenation laws which prohibited marriage between ‘whites’ and 'coloreds’. The couple who brought these charges to the court was Mildred and Richard Loving—a black woman and her white husband—who were sentenced to a year in prison for marrying each other. The Supreme Court overturned the Lovings’ convictions in a unanimous decision on June 12, 1967, now colloquially known as “Loving Day”.

The case has been receiving renewed attention thanks to a number of recent works. From Chronical Books, Loving V. Virginia by Patricia Hruby Powell and illustrated by Shadra Strickland is a gorgeous “documentary novel” based on the case. For younger readers, there’s The Case for Loving by Selina Alko with illustrations by the author and Sean Qualls, available from Scholastic Books. Finally, in theaters now, Loving directed by Jeff Nichols, starring Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga, who is Oscar-nominated this year for her performance.

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When someone asked me if I would be on a film about the Trolls dolls back in 2013, I said hell no! But now, I couldn’t be more proud.

One of my goals at PDI Dreamworks was to work with Kendal Cronkhite, the shining mother goddess of production designers. She would head up this project. I was still skeptical. It would take a lot of heavy lifting. I wanted to see animation incorporate a more sophisticated aesthetic, be as modern and relevant as fashion, interior and industrial design. I shared some art inspiration with Kendal, one of which was Amelie Flechais’ comics, Sayuri’s World, an incredible fiber installation artist, and Philip Vose’s grungy indie art. I was genuinely surprised when Kendal’s response was to run with it! I was stoked enough to work on a film I believe in. But it keeps getting better! I ended up hand building stop motion scrapbook sequences that weave in and out of the film. Stop motion at Dreamworks Animation? How unreal! That led to our studio’s first ever Little Golden Book and so much more. Can’t wait to share it all. Congrats to the entire team!  

Trolls comes out in theaters today! Go check it out, I dare you not to smile.

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MY NEW STATIONERY COLLECTION WITH @abramsbooks IS OUT TODAY!

  • What I Am Trying To Say To You – Book of 30 tear-out postcards
    Cards that say things that are sometimes hard or too personal or too specific to say with words alone.

  • Then & Now – Undated 12-Month Agenda w/ 6 sticker pages
    Loosely based on my Unsolicited Advice planners, but in an undated format that lets you start and stop wherever so you won’t “waste pages” if you forget about it for a week or two. Tiny reminders, sporadic art and activities and stickers to punctuate your life. Coil bound so it lies flat, in a hardcover case with an elastic closure/bookmark and a back pocket to stash your stuff.

  • Mini Notebook Set – blank, lined, graph and dot grid pages
    Notebooks for reminders, feelings, confessions, aspirations or anything else.

Find it at Amazon (prime eligible), Book Depository (free global shipping) and other book and gift stores. 

Travelling Book project

If I was to run a travelling book project, who would be interested in joining in?

Suggestions for which book we should read are also welcome!


(What is a travelling book project? A ‘travelling book project’, aside from being in dire need of a catchier name, is when a group of people get together to read one copy of a book. The book is sent from reader to reader, and participants are encouraged to annotate, highlight and write in the margin any and all comments. This should be a fun community activity, and one I hope people are interested in!)

5 Must-Read Alternate History Books

Guys! We’re only THREE weeks away from the release of Blood For Blood, Ryan Graudin’s amazing, heart-pumping sequel to Wolf By Wolf

If you haven’t heard, we have a super awesome pre-order perk for you. Pre-order Blood for Blood and submit your receipt to receive Storm After Storm—a Wolf by Wolf digital short story in Adele Wolfe’s point of view. This story is EXCLUSIVE to fans through this offer so don’t miss out! Get all the details here and brace yourself for when you get your hands on Blood for Blood on November 1st. 

But just in case you can’t wait that long, check out our list of the coolest and craziest alternate history books out there. They’re set in our universe… but with a twist. 


1. Etiquette & Espionage by Gail Carriger

What do you get when you mix Victorian England with paranormal steampunk?  The first book in the Finishing School series!  Sophronia doesn’t know what to expect when she enrolls in Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality, but she soon realizes that she’ll be learning not only how to dance and dress but also how to be the perfect spy.  Throw in robots and werewolves and you get a version of the nineteenth century that’s a little different from what you learned in history class.


2. Fallout by Todd Strasser

In 1962, everyone feared nuclear war with the Soviet Union was right around the corner.  And what if, in another world… those fears came true? When the atomic bomb drops, Scott’s family rushes into the underground shelter Scott’s dad built in their backyard. But their neighbors force their way inside too.  With tensions rising and food supplies dwindling, Scott isn’t sure they’ll make it out alive.  And if they do, he can’t help but wonder what’s waiting for them on the outside.  This is a thrilling and terrifying look into the not-so-distant past.


3. Rebel Mechanics by Shanna Swendson

It’s 1888 in a world where the Revolutionary War never happened, and the colonies are fighting for their freedom under very different circumstances. They have technology, engineered in secret.  The British have their magic.  When Verity lands a job as a governess to a wealthy family in New York, she quickly falls for one of the rebels and is pulled into the fray.  She may have the power to change the tide of the war—but at what cost?


4. The Diviners by Libba Bray

The 1920s come roaring to life in the first book in The Diviners series, where mysticism and the occult are real.  Evie O’Neill has always kept her magical abilities a secret, but when the police find a dead girl branded with a cryptic symbol, she realizes her gift could help catch the killer.  As she’s pulled into the underbelly of New York City, she’ll need new allies and all of the supernatural power she can muster to face the darkness that has awakened in this re-imagined Jazz Age.


5. Wolf By Wolf by Ryan Graudin

Okay, so maybe this is cheating. But if you haven’t read Wolf By Wolf yet, what are you waiting for?!  It’s out in paperback now!  Let’s set the stage: It’s 1956 and the Germans and Japanese have defeated the Allies in World War II.  To commemorate their victory, Hitler hosts an annual cross continental motorcycle race. For Yael, a former death camp prisoner, it’s the one way she can get close to the man who destroyed her people… and kill him.  A survivor of human experimentation, Yael has the power to skinshift and must impersonate last year’s winner, Adele Wolfe.  But can Yael bring herself to be as ruthless as she needs to be to avoid discovery and complete her mission?


So, which of these reads will you be picking up? 

Share your favorite with us on Twitter and/or tell us about another favorite alternate history book that should be on our radar!

Hail Mary, Part Two

By popular demand, a wee morning-after follow-up to my original post based on this anon prompt: 

I really liked this earlier Imagine: ‘Imagine in ep 1 they party stops to sleep for a little bit and Claire is freezing, so Jamie offers to warm her discreetly’. Would any mods be willing to continue this story or another alt point-of-view where J & C get closer, more affectionate, more sexual tension in those moments in beginning of book Outlander? Love your fanfic!! You ladies are so creative!

Catch up with Hail Mary PART ONE: 

>> Be warned: this installment is slightly more NSFW -❤️ Mod Bonnie


Part Two 

I was ice and electricity. Every cell, every muscle fiber, every neuron somehow both frozen and exploding with the same insuppressible energy.

A sound of need. Mine? His? Yes, each rising to answer the other in kind. 

Warm arms came suddenly tight around my back, lifting me, then lowering me—maddeningly slowly—down to straddle his broad thighs. A warm mouth explored mine and I struggled against warm hands that kept my hips confined, keeping me from taking what I wanted. The warm fingers gripped tight even as they dragged upward, skimming under my shift to the narrows of my waist; up still further to thumb—for the barest of tantalizing instants—the tender, yearning underflesh of my breasts. I cried out in distress to feel the mouth—that blazing, devouring mouth—leave mine and a cloud of white obscure my vision. The sound had barely left my throat, though, before it was obliterated by another, a cracking moan of startled, throbbing relief as the mouth began to worship first one nipple, then the other, then the first again. 

The breathtaking sensations fell through me like whisky in my blood, and my body begged, begged, for more, pleading out a desperate, wordless question over and over in empty thrusts and moans. I gasped as the question was suddenly and forcefully answered, just as wordlessly; gasped at the visceral relief of being filled deep with red-hot iron. We moved together, the heat of his cock stoking and then igniting me, actual flames licking outward from my womb to encircle every inch of me. I wasn’t frightened of them, far from it, for they transformed me into a Fury, all-powerful to consume. Consume, I did, riding him hard, and then harder, grinding furiously against the thumb that had the sensitive flesh above our joining glowing like a coal, sending shockwaves of heat up my spine. I began to keen, fast and urgently; then laughed darkly as I heard him begin to do the same under my power. My cries drove him, and his, me; together we roared, rising upward, and upward, and still upward into a seething conflagration of burning skin and breath and pounding blood, until—

I awoke to waves of pleasure rolling through me, my limbs quaking in the aftershocks of a rather spectacular orgasm. I closed my eyes tight at once, and exhaled, trying to savor the fleeting, pulsing sensations for as long as I might: the blood pounding between my legs; the comfort of being held by strong, warm arms; the beautiful, manly smell all around me; the unspeakable joy of being sheltered by the body that had just brought mine to compl—

My eyes snapped open.

Jesus H….

His ruddy forelocks were in his eyes, inches from mine. His head was lolled back slightly against the grain sacks, but even so nearly rested against my own. His arms were tight around me, still… and mine were around him.

Roosevelt…Christ…

I was still trying to catch my breath from the joint rigors of orgasm and the heated encounter of my dream, and couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth. Those lips…warm lips….I supposed it…had been….?

Of course it was a dream, idiot. You saw how nervous he was to touch you. He nearly soiled himself when time came to get that sopping shift off. Despite everything, I had to stifle a giggle at the memory of him, going suddenly stock-still and screwing his eyes and fists tight, looking unmistakably like a naughty child caught red-handed and steeling himself for a whipping. Thank goodness for Murtagh’s sang-froid; and, for that matter, that I was no fainting ninny, myself! While, granted, I had never before had the experience of being urgently undressed outside the realm of the boudoir, my upbringing with Uncle Lamb—to say nothing of the exigencies of six years as a combat nurse—had trained me not to fret over prudish concerns. No embarrassment to be had over matters of propriety if one dies of hypothermia while quibbling over them.  

No, it had been a dream. How could it be otherwise with those otherworldly flames that had surrounded us during our pounding, burning ecstasy? Besides, as little as I knew about Mr. McTavish’s past, I did think I knew him well enough to surmise that he was not one to seduce a lady in the night, particularly not one he had taken under his protection. 

….but God, I thought, letting my palm feel the curves of pectoral muscle beneath it, the strength of him, “our ecstasy,” my subconscious brain had just called it. It had felt so real, so immediate, so….

Guilt gripped my stomach, violent and inditing, in an attempt to distract from the other, more pleasurable tightenings occurring in my body at the thought. I was a married woman, for Christ’s sake; a happily married woman, I hastened to add. And yet, here I was, practically naked by the standards of the eighteenth century, having both spent the night in the arms of a huge, rugged Scot and enjoyed shockingly detailed dreams about having my way with him. 

E n j o y e d.

Yes, I felt guilt. Not for having the dream…but for the undeniable part of my being that wished it hadn’t been a dream at all. Even now, in the faint light of pre-dawn, that great opportunity to dismiss the foolish notions of night and revert to reality, I couldn’t deny the things I was feeling for him…the sensations that still had my body lit like a candle against his…wanting more. 

I shifted slightly to look more fully up into his face. I started a bit to see his mouth turned up in a smile. Good gracious, had he been watching me the whole time? Seen me staring at him for minutes while trying to get a bloody grip on myself? But no…he was still asleep, eyes closed and breathing steadily. The smile had been just a momentary flicker, it seemed, for his face was impassive once more. The high, elegant cheekbones; the golden stubble breaking out along his jaw; the soft movement of his breath against my forehead as he held me close and warm, even in sleep. 

A sound of tenderness escaped my throat. No, it wasn’t just lust I felt, potent as it was. This man, this fierce warrior, big and strong enough to destroy a man in battle, had cared for me through the night, holding me as carefully and gently as he would a kitten. Despite his hesitation, his evident fear of crossing the boundary of propriety, he had given me the warmth of his body, cradling me to him and chanting soft words over me. He had seen me safe.

My fingers were reaching out as if of their own accord, needing to touch him.  “Oh, you sweet lad,” I whispered, and I grinned widely to see him smile once more in sleep at the touch, the warm cheek tightening under my fingertips.

Suddenly, though, his eyes flicked open wide and met mine dead-on. My grin fell into an expression of blank shock, and I tried to adopt a casual air as I—bloody goddamn fucking fool, Beauchamp—moved my hand to my scalp to feign an itch that convinced no one. 

He was gracious enough not to call me out on this half-rate pageantry. “Did ye sleep well, Mistress?” he whispered, voice scratchy with sleep, looking down now with an expression of shy eagerness.

“Yes,” I whispered back, tucking my hair nervously back behind my ear, avoiding his eye. “Thank—thank you again, Mr. McTavish…for warming me.”

Warming me. 

The whooshing rush of melting ice. A burning tongue tracing up the lines of my neck and hollow of my ear. Our cries rising high and fierce above the roar of the fire.

AVE MARIA…GRATIA PLENA…

“And—and you?” I stammered, my voice several notes higher and my cheeks so red I thought he could surely see, even in the dim light. “Did you, erm, sleep well?”

He certainly didn’t look it. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles underneath. “Oh—oh aye—” he said, looking suddenly shifty. “Verra pleasur—pleasantly!—to—to be sure.” Good Lord, he was blushing, now, too…

Suddenly the panicked impulse to vomit came over me and I had to clench all the muscles in my body to quiet the screaming alarm bells going off in my head. My own nocturnal experience might have been a dream, and certainly I hadn’t actually ravished Mr. McTavish, but had I done something wicked to him in my sleep while having it? Frank had always said I was inclined to writhe wantonly about in sleep before initiating sex; my body’s own clarion call. Had I—?

Oh. FUCKING. Hell.

Mortified, my cheeks all pins-and-needles from anxiety, I began to jerk free my arm from where it lay pinioned behind his back, mumbling, “I should— gobacktomytent—proper clothes, you know—b-breakfast—”

Before I could extricate myself, though, his hands tightened on me, and he uttered the tiniest of sounds. I surely wouldn’t have heard it, had I not been still pressed against his chest. It was a pitiful kind of noise; a whimper? expressing, in the barest of instants, both protest…and need.  

Slowly, I looked back up into his face. The same emotions were written there, too.

“It’s…an hour or more until full dawn,” he said, voice tentative and cracking. “Ye might…stay a while longer, yet…so as not to wake the others.”

I might stay….

Shaking the image of standing stones from my vision, I saw the anxiety rushing across his features at my silence. “Christ, I dinna mean to say—not that—only if ye—”

I laid a hand on his shoulder and he stilled.

“I….wouldn’t want to wake the others,” I said quietly.

“No…” he breathed, eyes alight. 

“And…I am still a bit cold,” I whispered hoarsely. That wasn’t a lie, I told myself belligerently. It was a cold morning. It WAS.

“Well, then…” he said, voice low and deep and resonant against my skin, rippling down all the way to my fingertips. 

Just until dawn, I bargained silently with my conscience.

Slowly, I lowered myself back down to him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. I thought I heard him sigh; in contentment? It was rather hard to tell for sure, for my own sigh—escaping me subconsciously as I settled back into the warm arms and felt the warm hands pull me subtly closer against him—seemed to drown out out all other concerns. 

God, lad…the things you bloody do to me. 

…my sweet Jamie.