Patricia Briggs (born 1965) is an American writer of fantasy since 1993, and author of the Mercy Thompson urban fantasy series.
She crawled on top of him, naked and warm and soft, smelling like a miracle that had saved him from a lifetime of aloneness.
One of the oddest things about being grown-up was looking back at something you thought you knew and finding out the truth of it was completely different from what you had always believed. (Bone Crossed)
Such a small thing to cause so much trouble.
People will do amazing things to ensure their survival.
Mercy," said my mother thoughtfully, "you never told me your werewolf neighbor was quite that hot.
I am not attempting to preserve culture, or record actual events or stories. Instead I bow my head in gratitude to those storytellers who have gone before and paved a way for me play in their stomping grounds. Doubtless those who want to be offended, will - allowing me to make them happy, too, which pleases me as much as it pleases them.
Not that I'd really been planning on keeping the attack secret; it had just been an option I'd wanted to keep open if I could.
He bit the nape of my neck and I moaned.
My will broke at the sound of his voice, and my head turned with as much inevitability as a sunflower turning its face to the sun.
Maybe I should go back to teaching school about crazy people instead of being one. (Jim Alvin)
Women are the bloodthirsty sex," said Ric sadly. "We get the reputation, but it is only because the women stand behind us, and say, Kill it. Squish it.
My mother was a children's librarian. I remember when traditional stories were revised for modern audiences until they bore only a nodding acquaintance with the originals, but were released as 'authentic Indian stories' when they were, in fact, nothing of the kind.
Baking is like washing--the results are equally temporary.
There is something incredibly arousing about being wanted. I pulled my hand back and sucked in a deep breath. “Adam,” I said.
What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.
Apparently deciding Charles’s brief introduction wasn’t good enough, his brother reintroduced himself. “Dr. Samuel Cornick, elder brother and tormentor. Very nice to meet you, Anna—
Evil must always be fought.
Love is not necessary for sex.
Mine,. . . Mine is what she is.
A man learns with age, if he is lucky.