Best 14 quotes of Julie Miller on MyQuotes

After he tipped his hat and left, Jillian watched him stride down the hallway. Yeah, Big-brotherly overprotection aside, fortysomething looked good on the police captain from this view, too.

A pretty little thing like you with that sassy mouth and no husband or boyfriend? Are you a widow or a workaholic?

Come here.” Without regard for modesty, she pulled off her T-shirt and wadded it up to stanch his wounds. He splayed his fingers on her bare stomach and grinned. “Honey, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that right now. Maybe later?” How could he joke and flirt when she was so afraid? “Max. You’re bleeding. Maybe dying. I don’t want to lose you.” “Come. Here.” He grabbed her and pulled her down into the grass beside him. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed his grizzled cheek against hers. The sirens were getting closer. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine. You’re the one who got shot. Twice.” “I’m gonna live through both. I’m a tough guy, remember?” “Damn it, Max—” “Rosemary March. Did you just swear? You know I don’t like hearing that from you,” he teased. He pulled her in for a kiss that lasted until a groan of pain forced him to come up for air. “You get under my skin, Rosie.” “Like an itchy rash?” she teased. “Like an alarm clock finally waking me up to the life I’m supposed to have. With you.” So when did the tough guy learn to speak such beautiful things? Tears stung her eyes again as she found a spot where she could hug him without causing any pain. “I know I’m not the guy you expected to want you like this, and I know you weren’t the woman I was looking for. Hell, I wasn’t even looking.” “Neither was I.” “But we found each other.” “We’re good for each other.” “I’m not an easy man to live with. I come with a lot of emotional baggage.” “And I don’t?” “You can do better than me.” Rosie shook her head, smiling. “I can’t do better than a good man who loves me. A man who encourages me to be myself and to be strong and who makes me feel safer and more loved than I have ever felt in my life.” “I do love you, Rosie.” “I love you, Max.” “What are we going to do about these feelings?” Max asked. “What do you want to do?” " Let’s give the Dinkles something to talk about.” “You’re moving in upstairs?” “And opening all the windows.” Rosie smiled. “Oh, I hope we give them plenty to talk about.

Come on, tough guy.” “You can get fresh with me in the snow and threaten me with a gun all you want. But if you really want my help, you’ll put your weight on me and move your feet.” “In about two minutes, my extremities are going to be so numb I won’t be able to do anything for either of us—even if you do shoot. So move.” He couldn’t have been rescued by some meek, mousy thing who’d do what he said without the attitude? He tapped the butt of the gun against her shoulder. “That’s pretty bold talk for a woman who’s got no advantage.” “Uh-huh. I’m not the one bleeding to death.

Dirty Harriet there is a loose cannon. She pulled a gun on my men.” “They were unconscious.” “What if they weren’t? We’d have had a fire fight in the middle of the street on Christmas night.” “Do you really want someone like that around your daughter?” “Considering she detected the threat against this home when your men couldn’t, yes.

For years I’ve been trying to turn myself into someone I’m not. Because that’s what Court wanted. But you get me. I can be the man I want to be with you—the man I’m meant to be. You needed me to be that man. I’m a cop. Always have been, always will be.

He needed her to understand. He needed her to believe his words. “There’s a difference between control and desire. Between respect and using. You need to know how special you are. How beautiful. And if any man doesn’t make you feel that, he doesn’t deserve you.

He wished he had some witty, romantic comeback. But he was the man he was, and words had never been a gift. “How about Delgado? I want to marry you. I want to be a daddy to this baby.” He touched his forehead to hers and his heart spilled out. “I want… Oh, God, Jose… I love you so much. I love this baby. I was so scared I was going to lose you and I was never going to get the chance to tell you that I finally wised up and believed what you knew all along.” She lifted one hand to stroke his jaw with her soothing touch. “That we were meant to be together?” “That I can love—that I do love. You.” He turned his face to press a kiss into her palm. “Hell, honey, I’ve got nothing without you. I am nothing without you.

Niall’s nostrils flared with a patience-inducing breath before he whispered, “Seriously? Are you packing today?” Duff’s overbuilt shoulders shifted as he turned to whisper a response. “Hey. You wear your glasses every day, Poindexter. I wear my gun.” “I wasn’t aware that you knew what the term Poindexter meant.” “I’m smarter than I look” was Duff’s terse response. Keir chuckled. “He’d have to be.” Duff’s muscular shoulders shifted. “So help me, baby brother, if you give me any grief today, I will lay you out flat.” “Zip it. Both of you.” Niall, Duff and Keir Watson

She liked seeing John smile. He was usually so serious and guarded. The flash of boyish teasing warmed her heart. She’d liked the faintly possessive stamp of that kiss, too. Although she’d never imagined she would enjoy any man showing possessive tendencies around her again, there was something healthy and respectful, and completely new about the way John liked to hold her hands or take her arm, to subtly touch her—or kiss her. It was like falling in love for the first time all over again. He made her feel important. He listened. He got angry…on her behalf. John made her feel like a woman worth caring about, not a punching bag or vessel for sex or thing a man owned the way Danny had. He made her believe that with the right man—with John himself, perhaps—that it was okay for her to love again. - (Maggie)

That was bliss. Being cared for. Wanted. Feeling so necessary to someone’s existence that there was no place for the loneliness inside her.

Would you feel safer if I stayed tonight?” “I don’t know.” “Yeah, you do. Everything else aside, would you feel safer?” He tapped his cheek to ask her to look him in the eye and answer. “Up here, honey.” She did look up into those expectant blue eyes. Yes. In every way that mattered, she felt safe with Max. Rosemary nodded. “Say it, Rosie. Don’t make me think I’m bullying you into this.” “I’m not inviting you into my bed. But you are awfully warm, and I can’t seem to shake this chill and...” She hugged her arms around her waist but bravely held his gaze. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Would you stay with me?” The taut line of his mouth relaxed. “I like a clear set of rules, too. So no hanky-panky, but you wouldn’t be adverse to a little cuddling? You know, so I can keep an eye on you and you could borrow some body heat?” “That would be enough for you?” He brushed a copper tendril off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “That would be perfect.” Rosemary smiled. “Then I can live with those rules, too.

You can’t wear that outfit around Fiona.” “I earned the right to wear this uniform.” “And you should be commended for that. But my donation to the KCPD Widows & Orphans Fund gives me the right to decide how you dress around my daughter. I don’t want her frightened or put off by the military-looking attire. She likes jewel-tone colors. Do you have anything like that you could wear? Jeans or slacks are acceptable over the holidays.” “Jewel-tone…?” Her unadorned cheeks were blushing again. Temper, he suspected, not embarrassment. “Do you want me to paint my gun fuchsia pink? - (Quinn & Miranda)

You're Miss F's boyfriend?" Danny looked up in disbelief, his gaze following Jim around the room. "You're real?" Tommy echoed the same surprise. "Dude, I thought she was some sad old lady like my mom, making up stories about her dead boyfriend." "Shut up, Tommy." Jim paused near her desk. "You talked about me? You said I'm your boyfriend?" "Dead boyfriend," Danny corrected. "Shut up." Natalie and Jim silenced the frightened vandals in unison. "We were reading Romeo and Juliet," she explained, trying to diminish the importance of the boys' nervous rambling that had revealed far more than she cared to. "Talking about love and tragedy." "They were like, from rival gangs," Tom informed Jim unnecessarily. "Enough, Tommy." The seventeen year-old chose now to remember something she'd taught in class? "These are the two boneheads who've been giving you grief?" Natalie nodded."I thought I'd handled it." Jim holstered his gun and pulled out his phone. "I don't know if I'm flattered to learn that you claimed to love me, or pissed off to hear that you think of us as a tragedy.