#booknine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allthingsdarkanddirty · 1 year

Text

♡ 𝗢𝗕𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗦 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗡𝗢𝗪! ♡

𝙂𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚…

Obsessive Union the Ninth and Final Book in the Made Series by USA Today Bestselling Author Brooke Summers is 𝗔𝗩𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗪!!

READ TODAY ↳ https://books2read.com/ObsessiveUnion

• • • ABOUT THE BOOK • • •

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩… 𝙃𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝘎𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘻 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘎𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳…𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘉𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪’𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘥. 𝘖𝘯 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

𝘎𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙣.

𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝙃𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙤.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤’𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙮?

#ObsessiveUnionRelease #BrookeSummers #MadeSeries #ObsessiveUnion #BookNine #DarkMafiaRomance #SeriesComplete #TheNextStepPR

Hosted by The Next Step PR

Never miss a promotion with TNS again

→ https://www.thenextsteppr.com/work-with-us

0 notes

deardiaryproject · 2 years

Photo

#deardiary2022 #mitski #booknine

352 notes · View notes

italianoutlanders · 3 years

Photo

🥳🤗❤ #Repost from @dramofoutlander . Anticipation! #gotellthebeesthatiamgone #BEES #dianagabaldon #outlander #booknine https://www.instagram.com/p/CWd2zhxgh4x/?utm_medium=tumblr

#repost #gotellthebeesthatiamgone #bees #dianagabaldon #outlander #booknine

15 notes · View notes

jasonmyersauthor · 5 years

Photo

#booknine #writeordie #imstillhere https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw19kcJhdzv/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=18szk7xlzhhb0

#booknine #writeordie #imstillhere

3 notes · View notes

sassenach4life · 5 years

Text

Daily Lines ~ Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (Book 9)

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #BookNine#probablysometimethisyear #HAPPYNEWYEAR

The root cellar wasn’t a long walk from the smokeshed, but it was on the other side of the big clearing, and the wind, unobstructed by trees or buildings, rushed them from behind, blowing their skirts out before them and whipping Fanny’s cap off her head.

Brianna got a hand up and snatched the scrap of muslin as it whirled past. Her own hair, unbound, was flailing round her face, and so was Fanny’s. They looked at each other, half-blinded, and laughed. Then the first drops of rain began to fall, and they ran, gasping and shrieking for the shelter of the root cellar.

It was dug into the side of a hill, a rough wooden door framed in with stacked stone on either side. The door stuck in its jamb, but Bree freed it with a mighty jerk and they fell inside, damp-spotted but safe from the downpour that now commenced outside.

“Here.” Still breathless, Brianna gave the cap to Fanny. “I don’t think it’ll keep the rain out, though.”

Fanny shook her head, sneezed, giggled, and sneezed again.

“Where’s yours?” she asked, sniffing as she tucked her windblown curls back under the cap.

“I don’t like caps much,” Bree said, and smiled when Fanny blinked. “But I might wear one for cooking or doing something splashy. I wear a slouch hat for hunting, sometimes, but otherwise, I just tie my hair back.”

“Oh,” Fanny said uncertainly. “I gueth—guess that’s why Mrs. Fraser—your mother, I mean—why she doesn’t wear them either?”

“Well, it’s a little different with Mama,” Bree said, running her fingers through her own long hair to untangle it. “It’s part of her war with—“ she paused for a moment, wondering how much to say, but after all, if Fanny was now part of the family, she’d learn such things sooner or later. “—with people who think they have a right to tell her how to do things.”

Fanny’s eyes went round.

“Don’t they?”

“I’d like to see anybody try,” Bree said dryly, and having twisted her hair into an untidy bun, turned to survey the contents of the cellar.

#Outlander #Diana Gabaldon #Go Tell the Bees that I am Gone #Book 9 #Daily Lines #Brianna Mackenzie #fanny pocock

65 notes · View notes

siren88 · 6 years

Photo

#paigesinclaire #athenasaga #mybook #characterdesign #characterasthetic #booknine (at Wheaton, Illinois)

#mybook #athenasaga #characterasthetic #characterdesign #paigesinclaire #booknine

0 notes

jesuisprest002 · 6 years

Text

#GotelltheBeesthatIamGONE

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #BookNine #comingalongreallywellthankyou #noIlltellyouwhenitsdone #relax #breathe #gowatchSeasonsOneTwoandThree #thenrereadallthebooks #eatchocolate #itsgoodforyou

The sun was barely up, but Jamie was long gone. I’d wakened briefly when he kissed my forehead, whispered that he was going hunting with Brianna, then kissed my lips and vanished into the chilly dark. I waked again two hours later in the warm nest of old quilts—these donated by the Crombies and the Lindsays—that served us for a bed and sat up, cross-legged in my shift, combing leaves and grass-heads out of my hair with my fingers, and enjoying the rare feeling of waking slowly, rather than with the usual sensation of having been shot from a cannon.

I supposed, with a pleasant little thrill, that once the house was habitable and the MacKenzies, along with Germain and Fanny, all ensconced within, mornings would once more resemble the exodus of bats from Carlsbad Caverns—were there bats there now? I wondered.

A bright-red ladybug dropped out of my hair and down the front of my shift, which put an abrupt end to my ruminations. I leapt up and shook the beetle out into the long grass by the Big Log, went into the bushes for a private moment and came out with a bunch of fresh mint. There was just enough water left in the bucket for me to have a cup of tea, so I left the mint on the flat surface Jamie had adzed at one end of the huge fallen poplar log to serve as worktable and food preparation space, and went to build up the fire and set the kettle inside the ring of blackened stones.

At the far edge of the clearing below a thin spiral of smoke rose from the chimney like a snake out of a charmer’s basket; someone had poked up their smoored fire as well.

Who would be my first visitor this morning? Germain, perhaps; he’d slept at the Higgins cabin last night—but he wasn’t an early riser by temperament, any more than I was. Fanny was a good distance away, with the Widow Donaldson and her enormous brood; she’d be along later.

It would be Roger, I thought, and felt a lifting of my heart. Roger and the children.

The fire was licking at the tin kettle; I lifted the lid and shredded a good handful of mint leaves into the water—first shaking the stems to dislodge any hitch-hikers. The rest I bound with a twist of thread and hung among the other herbs hanging from the rafters of my make-shift surgery—this consisting of four poles with a lattice laid across the top, covered with hemlock branches for shade and shelter. I had two stools—one for me and one for the patient of the moment, and a small, crudely-built table to hold whatever implements I needed to have easily to hand.

Jamie had put up a canvas lean-to beside the shelter, to provide privacy for such cases as required it, and also storage for food or medicines kept in raccoon-proof casks, jars or boxes.

It was rural, rustic, and very romantic. In a bug-ridden, grimy-ankled, exposed to the elements, occasional creeping sensation on the back of the neck indicating that you were being eyed up by something considering eating you sort of way, but still.

I cast a longing look at the new foundation.

The house would have two handsome stone chimneys; one had been halfway built, and stood sturdy as a monolith amid the framing timbers of what would shortly—I hoped—be our kitchen and dining space. Jamie had assured me that he would wall in the large room and tack on a temporary canvas roof within the week, so we could resume sleeping and cooking indoors. The rest of the house…

That might depend on whatever grandiose notions he and Brianna had developed during their conversation the night before. I seemed to recall wild remarks about concrete and indoor plumbing, which I rather hoped wouldn’t take root, at least not until we had a roof over our heads and a floor under our feet. On the other hand…

The sound of voices on the path below indicated that my expected company had arrived, and I smiled. On the other hand, we’d have two more pairs of experienced and competent hands to help with the building.

Jem’s disheveled red head popped into view and he broke into a huge grin at sight of me.

“Grannie!” he shouted, and brandished a slightly mangled corn-dodger. “We brought you breakfast!”

[Thank you for the lovely Dutch bee on coleus, to Maureen Kluivers!]

22 notes · View notes

yellowfeather84 · 7 years

Text

Daily Lines - Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #BookNine #yesitsgoingverywell #noitisntfinished #noIdontknowwhenitwillbefinished #yesIlltellyouwhenitis We walked on slowly, pausing now and then as I spotted something edible, medicinal, or fascinating. It being autumn, this required a stop every few feet. “Oo!” I said, heading for a slash of deep, bloody red at the foot of a tree. “Look at that!” “It looks like a slice of fresh deer’s liver,” Jamie said, peering over my shoulder. “But it doesna smell like blood, so I’m guessing it’s one of the things ye call shelf-funguses?” “Very astute of you. Fistulina hepatica,” I said, whipping out my knife. “Here, hold this, would you?” He accepted my basket with no more than a slight roll of the eyes and stood patiently while I cut the fleshy chunks—for there was a whole nest of them hidden under the drifted leaves, like a set of crimson lily pads—free of the tree. I left the smaller ones to grow, but still had at least two pounds of the meaty mushroom. I packed them in layers of damp leaves, but broke off a small piece and offered it to Jamie. “One side makes you taller, and one side makes you small,” I said, smiling. “What?” “Alice in Wonderland—the Caterpillar. I’ll tell you later. It’s said to taste rather like raw beef,” I said. Muttering, “Caterpillar” under his breath, he accepted the bit, turned it from side to side, inspecting it critically to be sure it harbored no insidious legs, then popped it in his mouth and chewed, eyes narrowed in concentration. He swallowed, and I relaxed a little. “Maybe like verra old beef, that’s been hung a long time,” he allowed. “But aye, a man could stomach it.” “That’s actually a very good commendation for a raw mushroom,” I said, pleased. “If I had a few anchovies to hand, I’d make you a nice tartare sauce to go with it.” “Anchovies,” he said thoughtfully. “I havena had an anchovy in years.” He licked his lower lip in memory. “I might find some, when I go to Wilmington.” I looked at him in surprise. “Are you planning to go before the spring?” True, the leaves were still nearly as thick upon the trees as upon the ground, but in the mountains, the weather could turn in the space of an hour. There could be snow in the passes any time between now and next March. “Aye, I thought I’d risk one more trip before winter sets in,” he said casually. “D’ye want to come, Sassenach? I thought ye’d maybe be busy wi’ the preserving.” “Hmpf.” While it was perfectly true that I ought to be spending every waking hour in finding, catching, smoking, salting or preserving food…it was equally true that I ought to be replenishing our stocks of needles, pins, sugar—that was a good point, I’d need more sugar to be making the fruit preserves—and thread, to say nothing of other bits of household iron-mongery and the medicines I couldn’t find or make, like Jesuit’s bark and ether. And, if you came right down to it, wild horses couldn’t keep me from going with him. Jamie knew it, too; I could see the side of his mouth curling.

#daily lines #book quotes #go tell the bees that I am gone

156 notes · View notes

allthingsdarkanddirty · 3 years

Photo

💥𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄!💥

🏍 The Next Generation is coming… 🏍

Chicago Defiance MC Lovers! Vengeance by Author KE Osborn is OUT NOW!

↳ READ TODAY: mybook.to/KEVengeance

↳ ENTER TO WIN: https://www.facebook.com/KEOsborn (pinned post)

• • • ABOUT THE BOOK • • •

The love of your family should be unconditional.

My lineage—a long line of MC presidents before me.

My role—to live up to the expectations of those who filled the shoes I now wear.

Through my self-doubt, the lights of Vegas shine a beacon of hope.

A phoenix to rise through the ashes.

When my VP goes rogue, putting the club in jeopardy for his chance at happiness, will I find mine when the dust finally settles?

Or will my darkest secret be the very thing that not only destroyed my past but also a chance at a bright future?

This story isn’t about finding a way through—it’s deception, misunderstandings, attraction, and lies.

Love—it’s possible.

But who will have their vengeance?

* Previously released in the Call My Bluff Anthology, this Companion Novella tells the story of the Next Generation in the Chicago Defiance brotherhood.

#VengeanceReleaseBlast #TheChicagoDefianceMCSeries #KEOsborn #NextGeneration #WeAreDefiance #MCRomance #BookNine #NowAvailable #TheNextStepPR

Release Blast Hosted by The Next Step PR

0 notes

deardiaryproject · 2 years

Photo

#deardiary2022 #millenium actress #booknine

25 notes · View notes

thirteentattoo · 5 years

Photo

This is available by Gin To booknin DM @gininktattoo @thirteentattooco #worthing #worthingtattoo #worthingtattooist #tattoolife #tattoooist #tattoo #thirteentattooco #skulltattoo #tattoodesign #artwork #bodyart #ink #inked #art https://ift.tt/2MjQvez

#fineline #tattoos #needlejig #tattooartist #stencilstuff #dynamicink #tattoo #colortattoo #tradition

0 notes

braidsandweavesbydidi · 5 years

Photo

Please Like, follow & comment on @azizansari waist length Boho Curly Passion Twists... we cute! Pricing and booking link in the bio.. please check backnoftem becuse things do move arpund and appts. open up! But booknin advance as always.... . . . . . #naturalhairdoescare #naturalhairstyle #naturalhairloves #naturalhaircare #natural #protectivehairstyle #protectivehairstyles #cwkgirls #kinkychicks #healthy_hair_journey #naturallyshesdope #healthy_hair_army #naturalhairdaily #transitioninghair #braidsgang #fashionbombdaily #braids#oaklandbraider #calibraids #oaklandcrochet #bayareabraider #oaklandhair #bayarea #4chair #kinkycoilyhair #springtwists #oaklandpassiontwists #bayareabraider #sacramentobraider #passiontwists (at Oakland, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0SGELFggXI/?igshid=mj8f4aa2kgbk

0 notes

cindyzormeier · 7 years

Text

Diana Gabaldon

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #BookNine #yesitsgoingverywell #noitisntfinished #noIdontknowwhenitwillbefinished #yesIlltellyouwhenitis We walked on slowly, pausing now and then as I spotted something edible, medicinal, or fascinating. It being autumn, this required a stop every few feet. “Oo!” I said, heading for a slash of deep, bloody red at the foot of a tree. “Look at that!” “It looks like a slice of fresh deer’s liver,” Jamie said, peering over my shoulder. “But it doesna smell like blood, so I’m guessing it’s one of the things ye call shelf-funguses?” “Very astute of you. Fistulina hepatica,” I said, whipping out my knife. “Here, hold this, would you?” He accepted my basket with no more than a slight roll of the eyes and stood patiently while I cut the fleshy chunks—for there was a whole nest of them hidden under the drifted leaves, like a set of crimson lily pads—free of the tree. I left the smaller ones to grow, but still had at least two pounds of the meaty mushroom. I packed them in layers of damp leaves, but broke off a small piece and offered it to Jamie. “One side makes you taller, and one side makes you small,” I said, smiling. “What?” “Alice in Wonderland—the Caterpillar. I’ll tell you later. It’s said to taste rather like raw beef,” I said. Muttering, “Caterpillar” under his breath, he accepted the bit, turned it from side to side, inspecting it critically to be sure it harbored no insidious legs, then popped it in his mouth and chewed, eyes narrowed in concentration. He swallowed, and I relaxed a little. “Maybe like verra old beef, that’s been hung a long time,” he allowed. “But aye, a man could stomach it.” “That’s actually a very good commendation for a raw mushroom,” I said, pleased. “If I had a few anchovies to hand, I’d make you a nice tartare sauce to go with it.” “Anchovies,” he said thoughtfully. “I havena had an anchovy in years.” He licked his lower lip in memory. “I might find some, when I go to Wilmington.” I looked at him in surprise. “Are you planning to go before the spring?” True, the leaves were still nearly as thick upon the trees as upon the ground, but in the mountains, the weather could turn in the space of an hour. There could be snow in the passes any time between now and next March. “Aye, I thought I’d risk one more trip before winter sets in,” he said casually. “D’ye want to come, Sassenach? I thought ye’d maybe be busy wi’ the preserving.” “Hmpf.” While it was perfectly true that I ought to be spending every waking hour in finding, catching, smoking, salting or preserving food…it was equally true that I ought to be replenishing our stocks of needles, pins, sugar—that was a good point, I’d need more sugar to be making the fruit preserves—and thread, to say nothing of other bits of household iron-mongery and the medicines I couldn’t find or make, like Jesuit’s bark and ether. And, if you came right down to it, wild horses couldn’t keep me from going with him. Jamie knew it, too; I could see the side of his mouth curling.

1 note · View note

whatifthisstormends · 7 years

Quote

He shook the wood shavings into the fire, where they caught at once, curling into brightness and sending up a clean, sweet smoke. I came to stand behind him, watching them burn, and put my hands on his shoulders, warm and solid under my fingers. He leaned his head back against me and sighed, closing his eyes as he relaxed in the warmth. I bent my head and kissed the whorl of the cowlick on his crown. "Mmphm," he said, and reached up a hand to take mine. "Ken, it works the other way, too." "What does?" "The stubbornness of a mind that willna let go." He squeezed my hand and looked up at me. "While we were parted, how many times did ye tell yourself I was dead, Sassenach?" he asked softly. "How often did ye try to forget me?" I stood motionless, hand curled round his, until I thought I could speak. "Every day," I whispered. "And never."

“A Stubborn Mind” #DailyLines #BookNine #AStubbornMind (Outlander series) - Diana Gabaldon

#outlander #outlander series #go tell the bees that i am gone #jamie x claire #the frasers #jamie and claire #this one references to Voyager times so it is the right moment to post it #now I can read all the DailyLines #quotes #book quotes #books #Q

34 notes · View notes

sassenach4life · 7 years

Text

Diana’s Daily Lines - “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone” (Book 9)

#DailyLines #BookNine #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #Happy99thBirthdayClaire ! There was a stone under my right buttock, but I didn’t want to move. The tiny heartbeat under my fingers was soft and stubborn, the fleeting jolts life and the space between, infinity, my connection to the endless night sky and the rising flame. “Move your arse a bit, Sassenach,” said a voice in my ear. “I need to scratch my nose and ye’re sitting on my hand.” Jamie twitched his fingers under me, and I moved by reflex, turning my head toward him as I shifted and resettled, keeping my hold on Mandy, bonelessly asleep in my arms. He smiled at me over Jem’s tousled head, flexed his now-free hand, and scratched his nose. It must be well past midnight, but the fire was still high, and the light sparked off the stubble of his beard and glowed as softly in his eyes as in his grandson’s red hair and the shadowed folds of the worn plaid he’d wrapped about them both. On the other side of the fire, Brianna laughed, in the quiet way people laugh in the middle of the night with sleeping children near. She laid her head on Roger’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed. She looked completely exhausted, her hair unwashed and tangled, the firelight showing deep hollows in her face…but happy. “What is it ye find funny, a nighean?” Jamie asked, shifting Jem into a more comfortable position. Jem was fighting as hard as he could to stay awake, but was losing the fight. He gaped enormously and shook his head, blinking like a dazed owl. “Wha’s funny?” he repeated, but the last word trailed off, leaving him with his mouth half-open and a glassy stare. His mother giggled, a lovely girlish sound, and I felt Jamie’s smile. “I just asked Daddy if he remembered a Gathering we came to, years ago. The clans were all called at a big bonfire and I handed Daddy a burning branch and told him to go down to the fire and say the MacKenzies were there.” “Oh.” Jem blinked once, then twice, looked at the fire blazing in front of us, and a slight frown formed between his small red brows. “Where are we now?” “Home,” Roger said firmly, and his eyes met mine, then passed to Jamie. “For good.” Jamie let out the same breath I’d been holding since the afternoon, when the MacKenzies had appeared suddenly in the clearing below, and we had flown down the hill to meet them. There had been one moment of joyous, wordless explosion as we all flung ourselves at each other, and then the explosion had widened, as Amy Higgins came out of her house, summoned by the noise, to be followed by Bobby, then Aidan—who had whooped at sight of Jem and tackled him, knocking him flat—Orrie and little Rob. Jo Beardsley had been in the woods nearby, heard the racket and come to see…and within what seemed like moments, the clearing was alive with people. Six households were within reach of the news before sundown; the rest would undoubtedly hear of it tomorrow. The instant outpouring of Highland hospitality had been wonderful; women and girls had run back to their cabins and fetched whatever they had baking or boiling for supper, the men had gathered wood and—at Jamie’s behest—lugged it up to the crest where the outline of the New House stood, and we had welcomed home our family in style, surrounded by friends. Hundreds of questions had been asked of the travelers: where had they come from? How was the journey? What had they seen? No one had asked if they were happy to be back; that was taken for granted by everyone. Neither Jamie nor I had asked any questions. Time enough for that—and now that we were alone, Roger had just answered the only one that truly mattered.

#Outlander #Diana Gabaldon #Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #roger mackenzie #brianna mackenzie #Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone #book 9 #daily lines

311 notes · View notes

jesuisprest002 · 6 years

Text

Another daily line #GotellthebeesthatIamgone

#DailyLines #BookNine #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #noitsnotdone #itsabigbook #justlikealltheotherones #Illtellyouwhenweregettingclose #YESIworkwhenImtraveling #sheesh #minorspoilerinthisone #emptybracketsmeanImnottellingyousomething #notthatIdontknow #cuzIdo

Roger had dressed for his occasions. Luckily, the same black broadcloth suit, long-coated and pewter-buttoned, would do for both, since it was the only one he possessed. Brianna had plaited and clubbed his hair severely, and he was so clean-shaven that his jaw felt raw. A high white stock wrapped round his neck completed the picture—he hoped—of a respectable clergyman. The British sentries at the barricade on [ ] had given him no more than a disinterested glance before nodding him through. He could only hope the American sentries outside the city felt the same lack of curiosity about ministers.

He rode out a good distance from the city before beginning to circle back toward the Americans’ siege lines, and it was just past noon when he came within sight of them.

The American camp was rough but orderly, an acre or so of canvas tents fluttering in the wind like trapped gulls, and the amazingly big [ ] war-ships visible beyond, from which every so often, a volley of cannon-fire would erupt with gouts of flame, setting loose vast clouds of white smoke to drift across the marshes with the scattered clouds of gulls and oyster-catchers alarmed by the noise.

There were pickets posted among the [ ] bushes, one of whom popped up like a jack-in-the-box and pointed a musket at Roger in a business-like way.

“Halt!”

Roger pulled in his reins and raised his stick, white handkerchief tied to its end, feeling foolish. It worked, though. The picket whistled through his teeth for a companion, who popped up alongside, and at the first man’s nod, came forward to take Dundee’s bridle.

“What’s your name and what d’you want?” the man demanded, squinting up at Roger. He wore a backwoodsman’s ordinary breeches and hunting shirt, but had army boots and an odd uniform cap, shaped like a squashed bishop’s mitre, and bore a copper badge on his collar reading “Sgt. Bradford”.

“My name is Roger MacKenzie. I’m a Presbyterian minister, and I’ve brought a letter to [ ] from General James Fraser, late of George Washington’s Monmouth command.”

Sergeant Bradford’s brows rose out of sight beneath his hat.

“General Fraser,” he said. “Monmouth? That the fellow that abandoned his troops to tend his wife?”

This was said with a derisive tone, and Roger felt the words like a blow to the stomach. Was this how Jamie’s admittedly dramatic resignation of his commission was commonly perceived in the Continental Army? If so, his own present mission might be a little more delicate than he’d expected.

“General Fraser is my father-in-law, sir,” Roger said, in a neutral voice. “An honorable man—and a very brave soldier.”

The look of scorn didn’t quite leave the man’s face, but it moderated into a short nod, and the man turned away, jerking his chin in an indication that Roger might follow, if he felt so inclined.

[Thanks to Candi Imming for the great bee in flight!]

#outlander #sam heughan #jamie fraser #sam heughan fan #outlander series #love outlander series #heughligans #caitronabalfefan #outlander books #book9 #team jamie #jamie & claire fraser

15 notes · View notes