Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes

Character Quotes from Heirs of Shakazhan by Dellani Oakes

Heirs of Shakazhan front

“What if,” Marc pinched his lower lip. “What if we are just not smart enough for this. Maybe we need the children.”

“You’re joking, surely!” Vik was somewhat offended by Marc’s statement. “None of us are idiots! You make us sound like simpletons!”

Marc held up a strong, beefy hand to quell further comments. He shook his head, fighting off Vik’s anger.

“Listen! We know that Mariah and Duncan, my boys and Sadhana aren’t like normal children. Duncan’s Kahlea and Mariah might as well be. Those kids know more than we do about a lot of things. It could be that they can figure this mess out for us.”

“That’s crazy!” Vik was unrelenting. “I refuse to believe mere children could be of any help.

To him children were children. He found it impossible to consider anything else. Even though he had seen the VanLipsig children in action, he couldn’t imagine them solving a problem like this, and said so.

“Maybe that’s our problem,” Marc said, his voice betraying his barely controlled anger. “Maybe we can’t see it because we won’t let ourselves. Pride has kept even the smartest and most capable leaders from seeing the best solution. I’m perfectly willing to concede the point that our kids might just be able to see the way out of the forest, when all we are doing is running into the damn trees! Why can’t you?”

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes

Character Quotes from Savage Heart by Dellani Oakes

character-quotes-image“They aren’t all married. Meli….” Sailfish raised a meaningful eyebrow.

“True. Well, then you are very fortunate.”

“She won’t ravage me, Manuel. She’s no more the sort for that than Gabriella.”

“Ah, I see. Forgive me, I had made an assumption that belittles the lady.”

“I made the same assumption. Among my people, it is not uncommon to find comfort in the arms of a woman before marriage.”

“It is one of the things I loved most about living with your people,” Manuel laughed, clapping Sailfish on the back.

“You certainly used to take full advantage when you were younger and unmarried.”

“I did indeed. What a naughty boy I was,” he said proudly.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Amanda Thrasher, Article, author, Book Marketing, books, Cereal Authors, Fiction, Literary, publishing, Ramblings, Teens, Uncategorized, writer's life, Writing Process, YA

Yep, I’m a Plotter

Like most authors, I receive emails from aspiring writers asking about my writing process. Most are referring to being a Panster or a Plotter, and admittedly, I have been both over the years, and some want to know about the writing process as a whole.

Early in my writing career, I took the Panster path. Starting with an idea and simply running with it to see where it would eventually take me. I had a general idea of where I was going, but somehow, my characters always seemed to lead me exactly where I needed to go to finish the story. Writing off the top of my head, having no idea which direction the story would take or end up, did work for me for a few years.

As my writing evolved, that process changed for me. Why? Honestly, I have no idea. I found my self Plotting instead of just running with a storyline. Each time I came up with a potential story, I’d spend time contemplating my beginning, middle, end, plot twist, the how’s and if’s, the main character, secondary characters, and auxiliary characters. As soon as I could, I’d outline the entire story on paper, making adjustments as the scenes shifted and changed in my mind. Once I started writing the book, I continually referred back to my notes and outline, and have been doing this now for years. I’m comfortable with it, do make changes along the way, and though I’ve been known to add to it as I write (the outline), it is now the preferred way of doing things.

I don’t believe there is a right way or wrong way to write your manuscript, Panster or Plotter. I think you need to find a method that works for you; that keeps you focused, on track, and allows you to finish the project. So to answer the Panster or Plotter question, for me, I’m a Plotter.

Writers are also often asked about their rough drafts. I’m sure we all have quirky things we may or may not do, but here’s what I do. I work my manuscripts a minimum of four times before edit, and it seems like a dozen times after that between the two rounds of the edit, accepting or declining the changes and applying recommendations, reread it again, add an outside set of eyes for proofing after layout and last but not least proofing again via my editor once completed. Of course, I’m reading it over and over.

The first draft is the obvious, the rough draft. It’s super important, it’s the story, and getting it out of your head and down on paper, which can be fun, can also be an eye-opener when you read it for the second time. For this reason, I reread and correct every chapter prior to writing a new chapter. The second time that I go through the entire draft is where I add any emotion that I may have missed the first time around, and I also double check my narration for cadence and flow during this time. It’s essential to keep the story moving. Often during the first draft these things can be flat. When I’m reading the manuscript in its entirety for the third time, I’m searching for holes in the story or the timeline that may have been inadvertently missed. Did the character leave the kitchen in one scene only to find herself speaking to her boyfriend in the driveway in the next scene? What? How did she get there? When did she leave the kitchen? Usually, a simple sentence corrects the issue. Example: Sophie walked outside to greet Clay. By the fourth read, I practically know my manuscript by heart and anything that I may have missed, repetitiveness, holes, flow, anything, should jump out as I apply the final polish. At this point, the author’s eyes and mind can predetermine what is supposed to be there, and we rely heavily on our editing teams.

Once I’ve completed the above, the work is sent to my editor, who edits the work and sends it back to me to accept or decline her changes and/or recommendations. It is then sent back to her for a second round. The same process is applied, and once I approve or reject for the second time, we hit layout and proofing all over again. Things appear different once the text has been laid-out in book format and it isn’t unusual for editors and proofers to catch different things that might have been missed. Everyone involved is human, have seen the files dozens of times, and our eyes and minds already ‘know’ what is supposed to be there, and it’s amazing how many times we’ll correct something automatically in our heads and therefore it is missed on paper. To avoid this, I read the entire thing out loud. Trust me, people walk past my office and I look quite crazy talking/reading away!

It’s a process, and it does take time, but if you’re currently writing a book, forge ahead. It can be nervewracking, fun, overwhelming, exciting, intimidating, all at once. However, it’s all worth it if you have a story to tell or something to say. Eventually, you’ll find a process that works best for you; it might take a minute, it took me a while, but you’ll get there. Keep writing, have fun, and feel free to keep sending your questions. For those that aren’t aware there’s a contact page on my website. I may not always have the answers, but I’m sure I know someone who does, and I’ll just ask them. 🙂 Have a great day and continue writing!

Text Copyright © 2019 Amanda M. Thrasher

Amanda M Thrasher

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Captain Fin
author, Cereal Authors, JD Holiday, Literary, Living In The Backup Plan, Romance, writer's life

Living In The Backup Plan: Part 1

drawers and mirror 8-3-16 finishedWhy am I on a stool in this bar, Danie thought staring into her G&T in the East End London? Why she was drinking a Gin and Tonic was easy. It was the go-to drink of her favorite detective character by B. C. Beaton. And she supposed this travel to London England was too, in a way. One of the planes leaving out of Philadelphia heading away from her life was to England. Agatha Raisin’s England. Britain or Italy were the choices having ancestors from both countries.
The pub was in a centuries-old darkish building with a wooden beamed low ceiling and yet the candlelit lamps around the room gave it an attractive atmosphere. The place was crowded with thirtysomethings occupying both ends of the bar with her in the middle fitting right in being four years younger. Some of the tables had the seventies and counting ups crowd at them with a few tables sporting the in-between generations. She didn’t want to talk. Luckily the woman dressed for the kill and covered in jewelry on her left gave Danie her back as she was engaged with making a score with a guy in perfect business attired.
The large guy on her right wearing a shirt with a multi-color grid necktie tried chatting with her using an unusual line. “Where’d you get those clothes, sweetheart?”
Danie glanced down at her 1960’s ensemble; vintage white short leather jacket, Lambskin black Mod cap, black and white mini skirt and go-go boots. Bought in a retro boutique near Spitalfields Market while doing her own walking tour her guide book in hand. She was trying to obliterate her life from her mind by absorbing the amalgamation of cultures around. She had to admit, it didn’t work.
“This is the twenty-first century, sweetheart!” the man was saying, an open mouth grin on his face.”And your hair is all wrong. It’s too straight for that time frame. Are those dark roots?” he leaned in for a closer look. “Your blonde color isn’t really blonde, is it?”
Danie got rid of Mr. Notmytype when she said using a posh accent, “Piss off, dear.”
He turned away and Dannie sighed, maybe I’ll travel to the Cotswolds and buy a house like Agatha’s. That was followed by the thought she should get back to the hotel and hide out. Be alone.
Forgetting Mr. Notmytype she pictured her father as she remembered him. Then pictures of her mother going through her illness floored back followed by her brothers as she said bye to them in the courthouse. She was weary; worn out yet she felt the tears that come behind seeing all their faces once more. Danie’s body sagged as she leaned forward and put her head on her hands.
Movement next to her made Danie glance around. Mr. Notmytype was getting up and headed for the door. The two men were standing behind her talking. What was said make her glance at them?
The deep voice of one said, “Wait outside. When she leaves you go with her.”
Danie frowned, what’s that about? She eyed both men. One was thick set in a dark jacket, light pants, and a cap. The man who talked moved into the vacated stool on her right. He was in a dark suit, had a full head of dark hair going gray. From his voice Danie knew he was an American.
He turned to look at her. Danie quickly opened her purse and searched inside for a tissue. She closed her purse and wiped at her eyes with the tissue. She picked up her drink only to sit it down again.
GOD knows what will become of her two younger brothers. Forced to be divided and each moving in with a greedy aunt, their mother’s two sisters, who lied to the court. Her mother’s will giving them custody and power over both her brother’s money. They denied that they had promised their dying sister her last wish to disregard the will and let the boys stay with Danie living in their own home until they were of age and the estate would go to them directly. Danie told her mother she wouldn’t need more money than what she already had been given after the death of their father three years earlier.
Danie had run from the courthouse unable to bare the total ending of her family. It was all gone. Yes, hugs and kisses were sparse at home but that wasn’t all there is to love. There was kindness and lots of it.
A quick good-bye to the boys at the end of court she drove to Ben’s house. She ran from the hurt like escaping from an abusive lover. A place unknown to her other than what she knew from tv shows she saw and books she read. Some of them were places she’d like to see before making a final decision. All her belongings were packed in Ben’s car since he would drive Danie to the airport and sell her own car for her. He was already caring for her black lab, Reilly and would send him on to her once she found a place she could live. She was going to start over in the backup plan she had worked out.
Her brothers Skylar, age seventeen and Leland, fourteen, told her they would miss her but reassured her they would be okay since there was nothing any of them could do to change the situation. Skylar added they would think of it as a new adventure after all the sadness. They would still have their friends, a few cousins their own age and be in the same school. They were just trying to comfort her, she knew. The three of them spent the night before the final court hearing talking and making arrangements to keep in touch by texting and skyping.
Danie swiped at her eyes again, not caring that her smudged makeup was being totally swiped away.
“You’re not doing very well at drowning your sorrows,” the man now sitting in Mr. Notmytype’s seat said.
Danie looked his way. He was sitting facing her. She glanced at the half-full glass in front of her. “That’s not wise I’ve been told,” she remarked, liking the sound of her own British accent.
He kept glimpsing across the room at a table where a couple was having an engrossing conversation.”No, it’s not,” he said tilting his head to one side and meeting her brown eyes.
Danie hurriedly looked away slightly flustered and took a sipped from her drink.
“You live around here?” he was asking.
“No, I’m staying at the hotel next door,” she said darting a look his way.
But he was looking at that couple again.
“Your girlfriend? Why are you watching them?” she queried, now supposing that was the case and he was stalking the woman.
He turned to Danie and gave her a smile. “No, she’s not. I’m Joe. Joe Graydon. What’s your name?”
“Danie people call me.”
“Short for Danielle?” he pressed while once more surveying the couple across the room.
She studied his profile. “No,” she retorted, not liking his presumption. “That’s what everyone thinks! You didn’t answer my question.”
“About what?” he said transferring his gaze back to her. He scrutinized her not missing a thing.
“She’s not your girlfriend so why are you watching them?” Danie questioned, now with a strong interest.
Joe shrugged and the chuckled. “Let’s say I’m doing a job. Nothing more.”
“If your a spy you need to work on your technique,” she remarked.
His mouth fell open. “Really!”
“Unless you are trying to be obvious. Then you have it down pat. I heard cops sometimes do an open tail.”
He was looking across the room again. Danie did the same.
He said laughing out loud, “You get that phrase from a tv show?”
Danie blinked and focused on finishing her drink to cover her red face.
“I’m a detective of sorts,” Joe added and held out his hand.
There was that quick smile of his. Danie didn’t hesitate and shook his hand. This time his grin turned into a quick laugh then back to that smile that said he was listening. She stared at their interlocked hands. “I’m Geordana Torerelli.”
“Like another drink?” Joe asked.
“No, I should get back,” Danie said, taking out her wallet. She frowned thinking she didn’t really have any reason to go.
Joe was disappointed. He was enjoying the light exchange they were having. “I like your outfit. I remember…” he stopped, glancing from her to the couple and then back.
Danie looked too. The man was looking their way.
“You remember from the 1960s,” she said finishing his thought.
“Hardly,” he quipped with a raise of an eyebrow. “I was going to say I remember seeing pictures with your style of dress from then. I’m probably not much older than you.”
“Sorry. I saw your hair and…” She motioned for the bartender, to hid her screwup. She should go back to the hotel thinking she needed to be alone.
But Joe said, his money in hand, “I’ve had gray in my hair since I was sixteen. I’ll get the bill.”
“Thanks, you don’t have to,” Danie said, her emotions swirling. She did like him; his face, his great smile and the lull of his deep-set voice.
As the barman took the money Joe demanded, “Hey, what’s happened to your accent. It vanished. You’re an American or Canadian. Where are you from?”
Danie gave a little laugh. “New Jersey, USA,” she told him and looked across the room, “You aren’t watching your couple anymore. They’re leaving. You didn’t detect that!”
“You’re a funny person, I see. I saw what I needed,” he said.
Danie nodded and stood. “Thanks for the drink Mr. Gumshoeman.”
“You’re welcome. Will you be here long?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know. No, I guess. I have to find a place soon. My dog is going to be shipped over so I need to get a place for him and me.”
Joe nodded and reached into his suit jacket. He pulled out a business card. “Here’s my card. While you’re here call me if you like. Hope I see you around, Danie.”
Danie took it and said goodbye. Walking to the door she read the card.
‘Rimble’s Detective Service. Joe Graydon.’ On the back was a cell number and Kramer Road, Nottinghill. She tucked the card into her jacket pocket and realized she’d stopped crying some time ago.
As Danie went out the door Joe stood and watched her go fighting an inner battle to go after her. There was no denying, Danie was something special.

Joe put his phone away. A call from HQ out of the blue never sat well with Joe. He wasn’t sure what was happening but something was up. His jobs came from the head of the Europe station: Stan Wright; another rat in the pack. In the best of times, Morton Caminski was squirrelly. Lately even more so. Joe sensed a difference in the running of the Company in Washington and it started when Caminski took over.
Turning onto Kramer from Pembridge Joe went to the Victorian-style townhouse that Rimble used for the Detective business and turned the key in the lock. He walked through the entrance way to the hall with the crimson wood trim that permeated the entire house.
Searle Jones came from his office. “How’d it go?”
“She did what she was supposed to. Simon and Moreley can take it from here, ” Joe informed his trusted friend. “I’m off in the morning to France. I’m meeting with Wright and Koler. Something’s up. I’m wondering what Caminski has up his sleeve. He phone a few minutes ago.”
“Oh,” Searle mouthed startled, all to mindful of the consequences that could mean coming from CIA headquarters.
He took the stairs two at a time heading for his apartment on the third floor. The second-floor being Searle’s rooms and their ‘safe house’ if one is needed. Halfway up, Joe stopped, “Searle?”
Searle halted on the threshold to his office. “Yes, boss?”
“Find out what you can about a Geordana Torderelli from New Jersey, USA. Danie to her friends, mid-twenties, blonde hair, brown eyes,” Joe said continuing up the stairs.
“Anything, in particular, you want to know?” Searle called.
“Anything. And everything,” Joe exclaimed, reaching the second-floor landing.

~Copyright 2019 J.D. Holiday



SASSY-SARCASMStella has been in prison for offing her ex husband Larry. Laura is surprised yet appalled to find her nemesis standing on her door step a scant 2 years after going up the river.

It’s obvious Stella is as feisty and sarcastic as ever since her time “inside”  Get ready for a battle of wits.



early Wednesday afternoon, a knock at our door signalled the end of my peace and quiet for the day. I rushed to the door to answer it “coming, keep your pants on!”

I opened it to see someone I never expected to lay eyes on again… “Stella?”

“Yes, I’m back.” She stood there smiling.

“What the…?” I replied. I really didn’t want to know the answer but you know I had to ask

. “Don’t say it Laura. I heard enough bad language in the clink.”

“… Which is where you’re supposed to be for the next 20 years or so. What are you doing? Did you escape? Should I be calling the police?”

“Cool your jets or as the kids these days say chill!”

To say that I was aghast and feeling a tad nauseous was an understatement. I just stood there with a deer in the headlights look not knowing what to say next.

Stella cleared her throat “don’t just stand there let me in and I’ll explain everything to you.”


“Listen Laura, there’s something not right about that woman in 207.”

I sighed and spoke “Myrna is a perfectly nice person who by the way objects to being bothered at 8 AM.”

Stella huffed indignantly “it’s a perfectly civilized our Laura. Why I was expected to be up a meeting at 6 AM every morning and then report to my workstation by 830 every day. Nothing wrong with getting down to business right away. “Do I need to remind you that this is not prison. Myrna is a elderly lady and likes to sleep in. by the way, she also informed me that you tried to trade units with her.” I was trying really hard to control my temper but Stella was making it really hard.

“Yes, I did. It was a perfectly harmless request after all, it was my unit before…”

“You went to jail yeah I know. You are also told not to bother the tenants. Myrna is a valued tenant. So don’t approach her about this again. Do you understand?”

“Clearly Laura. The decor in that apartment is disturbing to say the least. It’s like she’s a member of the occult or something.”

“She’s Wiccan. It’s her religion. Just like someone would practice Judaism or Christianity is no big deal.” A stated vehemently.

“Wiccan? Wait a minute! She’s a witch is and she? You’re harbouring a witch. Someone who asked spells and uses potions. Meanwhile you snub your nose at my criminal past.” Stella fumed

“what’s wrong Stella? Are you afraid she’s going to turn you into a toad?”

“Well, one has to be careful.” She uttered

“Stella what happened to the I’m going to chill and be Zen. Maybe you should go do some yoga and meditate or something.

“Don’t mock… Oh, I see what you did there. Well played Laura. Fine I’ll leave the broom rider alone.”



Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes

Character Quotes from Bank on Love by Dellani Oakes

character-quotes-imageViolet’s head dropped to the table, banging slightly on it. “I’m so sorry,” she directed at the wooden surface. “My mother…an inveterate busybody.”

“You think I’m handsome,” he declared, smug tone in his voice.

“I told you that already.”

“I’m well built, too.”

Her only reply was a soft groan of despair.

Claude leaned over, whispering in her ear. “Everywhere.”

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes

Character Quotes from How Far is Heaven by Dellani Oakes

character-quotes-imageA broad shouldered man sat stooped over the cash drawer, calmly recording checks in a ledger. He was a dark haired giant, going gray at the temples. His face was drawn from either illness or pain and he looked slightly grim.

“We’re closed,” he said, his voice thick with a savory accent.

“I’m here to meet Maeve,” Hal explained.

The man’s face brightened considerably. “Oh, yes! Come in, come in! Maeve,” he called. “It’s your young man!”

Maeve came out from the back room, flushed and flustered. Her sleeves were pushed up and her hair was coming down from its French braid.

“Hello! Sorry, I’m looking for a box of books. They were supposed to have been put out a week ago, but got lost in the shuffle. I still can’t find them, Papa. I can’t move all the other stuff by myself.”

“I’d be happy to help you,” Hal volunteered. He took off his jacket, carefully laying it on the counter by her father.

Benedict watched this development with interest.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes, Uncategorized

Character Quotes from 99 Problems by Dellani Oakes

character-quotes-image“You’re one of those perky morning types, aren’t you?”

“Yes, grumble pussy, I am.”

I groaned, holding the coffee mug to my forehead.

“Mornings are what you make of them,” he continued.

“I want to make them go away. Is that possible?”

“You have to make it fun. Find something to smile about.”

I sipped the coffee and took another bite of muffin, and managed a vague impression of a smile. Wood leaned over, giving me a quick kiss. I smiled more, sighing contentedly.

“See? Morning isn’t so bad after all.”

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Among the Shine Clan, Dellani Oakes

Among the Shine Clan – Part 25 by Dellani Oakes

among the shine clan coverFiddlestix has been hired by Donan Varin to find his wife. She, and two bodyguards, are on their way to see the Harlichs south of Daytona. But first, they have to go through the hostile Chateau Noir territory. Their leader has put a substantial bounty on Fiddlestix’ head.

They turned east, skirting the shoreline. The night-sight helped a lot. With luck, they would make it to the Harlichs without Bobby knowing they were there. Luck wasn’t with them. A guard station caught them by surprise. They weren’t as startled as the guards were. The disorganized men were dispatched in short order. However, the noise alerted the other stations. The hunt was on and they were the quarry.

“Press the yellow button,” Blacksmith said.

They hit the yellow buttons and a turbo boost kicked in, spurring them to speeds well over a hundred. Flying blindly through the woods, they dodged trees, holes and bogs. The map could not update fast enough, so it was a combination of blind faith and guesswork. Despite the boost, the guards were closing. Knowing the terrain helped their pursuers. It was going to be close.

“Ride together and hit the orange button!” Buzzard cried.

A clicking whir and Fiddlestix saw something fly from the rear of her bike. Nothing happened until the first of their antagonists entered the zone/ Shrapnel filled mini bombs exploded, riddling the group with razor sharp steel springs and rods. Others scattered a field of whirring motion sensor razors. Pandemonium ensued behind them, slowing their attackers.They road at a furious pace, making their way through the woods on prayer and adrenaline. A few more miles flew past and the going got somewhat smoother.

“We’re in Harlich territory.” Blacksmith announced, slowing his bike. “Noir won’t follow us in here.”

“There should be a guard station about half a mile to the west,” Fiddlestix told them. “I think it would be better to announce ourselves formally, don’t you?”

They displayed the orange sashes openly, riding confidently to the Harlich compound. A guard detached himself from his surroundings, weapon leveled at Fiddlestix’ bike. She stopped as soon as she saw him. Setting her kickstand, she rose slowly. Hands well out from her sides, she walked forward. Removing her helmet and goggles, she squinted at the men, looking for familiar faces. She saw none.

“State your business,” the guard yelled in heavily accented English.

“I seek an audience with Meneer Fumler,” Fiddlestix replied in flawless Dutch.

Meneer Fumler does not see just anyone,” the guard replied. “Who are you?”

She cleared her throat before replying, unsure of her welcome. “Tell him, please, that Hannah Braun wishes to speak to him.” Once her name would have opened any door here, but now she feared just the opposite.

“I’ll check. Wait here.”

The guard was back in less than five minutes. Opening the gate, ushered them in. The sun was just peeping over the river as they walked onto the compound.

“Your bikes with be tended. Follow me.”

It had been so long since she had been here, yet little had changed. The buildings were sturdily built of limestone and coquina. The houses were in orderly rows, neatly trimmed yards in front of each. All the houses faced a huge center square where the office buildings stood.

Fiddlestix forced herself to watch the guard’s back as they walked along. As they reached the main building where Karl’s office was, a flutter of fear passed through her.

“I will announce you.” The guard left them outside the door. He returned a moment later, beckoning them to follow.

Fiddlestix stood before Karl’s door, taking a deep breath, trying to relax before entering. The guard opened the door, standing aside for her to walk through. She was completely unprepared for who stood on the other side of the desk from her. This was not the fatherly figure she had anticipated, but the smiling, boyish face of Karl the Fifth!

He stepped around his desk, arms open for a welcoming hug. “Hannah, it’s so good to see you! I’d heard you were back.” He ushered her to a seat. “Why have you waited so long to come see us?”

“I was unsure how I would be received,” she replied shyly.

“I see.” He looked pensive for a moment, then curiosity took hold. Karl looked at them expectantly. “What brings you here? I assume that this is not just a social visit?”

“It’s such a surprise seeing you. I expected Papa.” She could not help falling into the old, familiar pattern of speech.

His face clouded and it was his turn to hang his head. “He died, Hannah. Cancer is indiscriminate.”

Impulsively, she reached across the desk, taking his hand in hers, squeezing gently. “I know you miss him. He was a fine man. Where are my manners? I haven’t made introductions.”

© 2018 Dellani Oakes

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Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes

Character Quotes from Beach Babe by Dellani Oakes

character-quotes-imageGuess we start sending out for groceries,” Dechlan mused with a smirk. “You okay, baby? I thought you were about to go off there.”

Gator flashbacks. He would have been all over that action. Thank you for not.”

Never. I have the prettiest woman in the world in my bed. You think I want anyone less perfect?” He nuzzled my throat and I practically purred.

Good answer, Mr. Albright.”

Thank you, Miss Cartwright. I’d spend the next hour or two convincing you, but family….” He shrugged, tossing his head at Rory.

And the subs would go soggy.”

Oh, subs!” he laughed. “True. I see now why we got the drippy things on the side.”

Always. Not everyone squeezes out the pickles.”

Nothing worse than a dripping—pickle.” He said it in such a way it sounded distinctly sexual.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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