May 27
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5/5: Wow. I really liked this one. I never knew what was going on until the end and still wasn’t sure Lol 😂 It starts out with Michael and C
📚🌷BOOK REVIEW🌷📚
This is a great mystery and thriller!!
Check out my review ⬆️
I thank #NetGalley and publishers of #InHerShadow for opportunity to read and review in my perspective.
Currently reading....Fiction Crime Mystery. Set in the present but does go back and forth from past to present. Intriguing story. I’m really enjoying it, except some language I came across. I hope it doesn’t happen often. So far it hasn’t.
In Her Shadow || Drabble
“You get the Watcher. You get the mom. You get the little Scooby gang. What do I get?”
Everything that meant anything, everyone that cared about anyone… all for Buffy. Like she was the snow on a mountain or something. Beautiful and pure, didn’t have to work to get so high. Didn’t have to think about everything she covered, everybody who suffered through the winters and storms in her wake.
Faith had watched Buffy tread on her friends, use men, kill without a second thought and the world forgave her. Heck, they lined up to take their turn telling the mighty Buffy Summers how freaking sorry they were that their bad old heads scratched the bottom of her feet. She could do no wrong and everybody ended up paying for her bad choices. Forgiveness, compassion, understanding… these were things Buffy was owed without owing them in return.
----------------- Buffy was right there for the whole thing. Faith had played it over in her mind a thousand times. They were fighting… Buffy was throwing her vampires. Throw – stake… throw – stake… Why was Faith to blame for that? She’d heard about Ted, heard about the little Justice League buckling down immediately to try and figure out how killing Joyce’s boyfriend wasn’t Buffy’s fault. Where were they when she needed them?
No, Faith… that’s not how it went down. Can’t let that in. No matter how it looked Faith had learned to pull back from the black and white and not let the aching feeling that she was the negative to Buffy’s photo cloud her judgment. She couldn’t think that way, wouldn’t let herself fall back into the mindset of a victim.
They had a job to do, and nobody got anything done living in a grief-soaked fantasy. The harsh realities were that whatever Buffy had done that mirrored Faith, the reason that exceptions were made for her sister Slayer was because she deserved them. She earned them by being a selfless friend, through bravery and kindness. Faith wasn’t stupid. She knew herself well enough to know the real reason things ended so badly for her.
"Ever occur to you, Faith, that the reason we forgot you is because we wanted to?"
Something had to give, and that something was Faith. The world doesn’t care, and it won’t stop for you just because you didn’t get all the hugs you wanted back when you could stand to be touched. This stuff kicked you in the ass but you keep walking, keep climbing. Keep your head down and stop whining.
Only so many times you can trample a blade of grass before it stops springing back up, right? But it was always there… right under the surface. Like that slime from Ghostbusters… You know, down there running through the cities veins. Poisoning them from the inside. Making them angry, scared…
--------- Only nobody was coming to save the day. Not for her. So Faith had to be her own way, back to square one. She was on her side and that had to be enough.
Everything the Count remembered, the magnificent Marian Halcombe of his past, came back to him. The first and last weakness of his life, before him again. For a moment he felt himself blinded by his own memories; his own remembrances of the wits and wiles of Marian Halcombe that would steal into his thoughts; the sound of her laughter at his outrageous tales, the shadowed glance of distrust, the way her eyebrows would raise ever so slightly despite her resolution to seem disinterested in his foreign insights. She was the first woman he ventured to have complete equality in matching his tremendous cleverness. The strength of her resistance to his courtship, the glances he would steal of her while she read in the library, the unmatched envy he felt seeing her white hand lay across the open page, the audacious night before his departure for the Continent. Everything. In the seconds while her eyes acknowledged his and her own recognition betrayed her expression, the Count cast other thoughts aside. He could see her eyes dry every tear of distress she had produced, fire sparked from her glance and the Count relished the pleasure of feeling her stare. Feeling her magnificent indignation stir his blood once again.
In Her Shadow: The Prologue; A Sequel to The Woman in White
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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