Best 30 quotes of Teresa Medeiros on MyQuotes

A lady has every right to defend herself against unsought advances. And creatures of the night.

As all-consuming as a young girl's fancies were ... a woman's desires could be twice as dangerous.

Before you came into my life, I believed that God had abandoned me. Now I know that He has blessed me beyond measure. -sir Bannor-

Before, you were only a dream. Now you're a dream come true

He buried his hands in the rich velvet of her hair. “I thought I’d die for wanting you.

His lips nuzzled her ear. “Whether you go or stay, I will love you until I die,” he whispered.

Love does nothing but make you weak! It turns you into an object of pity and derision-a mewling pathetic creature no more fit to live than a worm squirming on the pavement after a hard summer rain.

Love isn't a burst o' trumpets and a flock o' doves descendin' out o' the heavens to roost on yer heads. Tis sharin' a cup o' tea by the hearth on a cold winter's night. 'Tis the look in yer husband's eyes when ye lay yer first child in his arms. Tis the ache in yer heart when ye watch the light in his eyes dim fer the last time, and know a part o' ye has gone out o' this world with him.

Max: "You'll never be good enough to deserve her, you know." Ash: "God doesn't always give you what you deserve," Ash said quietly. "Sometimes he gives you what you can't live without.

Then you're a bigger fool than I thought. Since when has any man ever been worthy of the woman he loved? It's only by God's grace that they love us in spite of ourselves.

To me you are stardust sprinkled across a night sky, forever in my dreams, but out of my reach.

Twitter is the perpetual cocktail party where everyone is talking at once but nobody is saying anything.

We're all haunted in one way or another, are we not? If not by spirits, then by our own demons and regrets.

Women are delicate creatures. Fragile. Gentle. Made by God to be sheltered from the harshness of this world.. Morgan MacDonnell

You asked me once if I would still love you when your lips were puckered with age and your eyes were faded. I can assure you that I will still love you when I have only the strength (and the scant teeth) left to gum those puckered lips. I shall love you when your bones are sharp enough to pierce my fragile flesh. I shall love you when the light in my own eyes fades for good and yours is the last sweet face I see. Because I am and ever shall be.

You care enough to play hard to get.

Abby_Donovan: I bet you were one of those uber-cool teachers like Mr.Chip, weren't you? MarkBaynard: I was more like Mr.Kotter or that guy from GLEE who looks like the love child of Orlando Bloom & Justin Timberlake. Abby_Donovan: Your female students were probably writing "I love you" on their eyelids and listening to "Don't Stand So Close to Me" on their Walkmans. [...] Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Mr.Schuester MarkBaynard: Goodnight Miss Pillsbury Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Puck MarkBaynard: Goodnight Rachel Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Kurt MarkBaynard: Goodnight Quinn Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Finn MarkBaynard: Goodnight Sue Sylvester, you heartless but oddly sexy beast Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Artie MarkBaynard: Goodnight Tweetheart...

As he shook off his servant’s grip and staggered heavily to his feet, the sunlight streaming through the outside door struck him full in the face. Samantha gasped. A fresh scar, still red and angry, bisected the corner of his left eye and descended down his cheek in a jagged lightning bolt, drawing the skin around it taut. It had once been an angel’s face with the sort of masculine beauty reserved only for princes and seraphim.

Barangkali aku hanya punya satu atau dua kehidupan untuk kujalani, tapi bukan berarti aku hanya punya satu cerita untuk kusampaikan.

Dreamer in Exile.

Esme slowly turned the picture over, her hands beginning to tremble again. Inscribed across the back of the photograph, in a woman’s elegant script, were two words. The ink might have faded, but the sentiment would surely endure forever. Dix’s strong, warm arms went around her. He rested his cheek against hers as they whispered in unison,“My Darling”.

He caught her by the shoulders and gave her a hard little shake. "Do you think you're so charming in that silly little nightdress that I can't resist tumbling you? Do you think I have no pride when it comes to you?" "B-b-but I—" "Well, you're right," he shouted. "I don't!" With that, his lips came down on hers

He would not kiss her mouth or allow her to caress him in tenderness. He broke his fierce silence only to whisper what wicked magic he was going to work until it took little more than the husky rasp of his voice in her ear to bring her to the brink of fulfillment. Had there been even a hint of brutality in his attentions, Holly might have brought herself to hate him, but his accomplished hands cherished her flesh as if it were his own private altar. She’d never known such unbridled ecstasy. Or such misery.

I don’t know what was more exhausting—being forced to spew out overwrought poetry for hours on end or having that little girl gaze at me all night as if I hung the moon.” A wry smile touched Adrian’s lips. “Didn’t you?” “No,” Julian retorted, lifting the decanter to the sky in a mocking toast. “Only the stars.

Me mum always told me the rich was blessed, but I thought she was talkin' about gold." She leaned over to cackle in his ear, then actually patted him on the head as if he was some slavering lapdog. "You might have escaped the gallows, lad, but you was already well hung.

Night, G'rard." " 'Night, mouse.

Stand and yield," she called out, her voice far steadier than her hands. "For I cannot allow you to pass." Bannor's crooked grin was somehow more intimidating than a snarl. 'Twould have been far easier to despise him if he'd been cursed with horns and a tail instead of twinkling blue eyes and a dimple in his jaw. "What would you have me yield, my lady? My sword or my heart?" -willow&bannor-

Stay with me always, my sweet, my love . . . my Claire.

Sylvia Day is the undisputed mistress of tender, erotic romance. Her books are a luxury every woman deserves.

Their gazes met. His eyes swept her in a velvet caress, uncertainty stamped on his features. The night loomed between them, as dark and impenetrable as his eyes. Rowena had to look away. She forced herself to remember how he had used his body and her need as weapons to weave a punishing net of pleasure.