Marketta Jonak

“Her heart nearly burst as she at last plunged into his embrace in one wild rush, screaming out her need, her love, her completion, wanting only to know his name so she might give everything of herself to him. His glowing smile was for her and her alone. His lips were for her and her alone. She closed that last bit of space toward him, longing to at last kiss the love of her life, the mate to her soul, the one and only true passion in all of life.
His lips were there, at last, she fell into his outstretched arms, into his embrace, into his perfect kiss.
In that flawless instant when her lips were just touching his, she saw through him, just beyond him, the merciless unyeilding valley floor hurtling up toward her, and she knew at last his name.
Death.”
― Terry Goodkind, Soul of the Fire

“Scott's mind was racing, struggling to comprehend the events unfolding around him. They were talking about disposing of Twinkle like he was a rusty old bike that no-one rode anymore.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“As I reached the door, the constable said, “Good luck in Canada, son.” For a second I expected his voice to morph into Uncle Sid’s as he urged me to give his love to Rose Marie and the Mounties.”
― Michael Wyndham Thomas, The Erkeley Shadows

“Next morning, while her children were still asleep in their tent, Evie got up early. The acorn she had planted the day before had sprung to life and was nearly ten feet high. Sitting on the fallen log where the forest boy had sat thirty years earlier, she listened. There was no dancing partner. Maybe she was now too old, but the oak trees did sing for her.”
― Robert Reid, The Empress: