Best 89 quotes of Amy Andrews on MyQuotes

All that existed was the blinding imperative to not think, to leave it all behind. To have it all fade to black in the throes of a truly good orgasm. To thrust and rock and pound until he came long and hard. To reach the pinnacle as fast as he could, to leap off the edge and truly leave all his earth-bound worries behind. He was a cave man. He was a Neanderthal. He was fucking Cro-Magnon.

A saint? Tanner Stone was the anti-Christ.

As if your ego needs any more stroking. If it took form right now it’d be a giant hard on.

A woman could do a lot of crazy things for a pair of fine-looking dimples.

Better than an orgasm? Clearly the woman was having lousy orgasms.

But...a vibrator can’t hold you in its arms or give you the full-body experience.” Em clamped down on the wicked surge of heat between her legs, thinking about a full-body experience with Lincoln Quinn. “It’s not going to make me lie in the wet spot, either.” “It can’t snuggle with you after,” he countered with another laugh. Em snorted. “And that’s your specialty, is it? Hanging around for pillow talk?” “I’ll have you know I give very good pillow talk.” Sure. And Elvis was alive and living at Henley Stadium. “Right,” she muttered. “Of course you do.” “I really do.” He nodded. “Most women seem to be more interested in me giving them good head, but hey, I’m a full service kinda guy.

Dash shoved his hands on his hips and looked down into the bowl. ‘You gave my fish pink rocks?’ he said as he turned to face her. Joy shrugged. ‘I didn’t really look at the colour I just grabbed the nearest bag.’ ‘It had to be pink?’ ‘There’s some blue as well.’ He looked into the bowl again. ‘Not really.’ Joy couldn’t believe she was having a conversation about pink rocks when the bigger question of what the hell he’d found out about the robberies was still unanswered. ‘You think it’s going to turn Ralph gay?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Given that he’s living his life out solo it’s kind of a moot question, don’t you think?’ ‘You’re right, I think he needs a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.’ ‘With those rocks? I think he needs Fishtank Barbie in there.’ ‘Is your masculinity threatened because your fish has pink rocks?’ Dash folded his arms. ‘He’s a bloke. He doesn’t do pink.’ Joy glanced at the bowl. ‘It works,’ she said. ‘It...blends.’ ‘He’s orange,’ Dash said. ‘Since when have pink and orange gone together?

Do I look stupid to you? That thing is just plain crazy.” “And when was the last time you did something crazy?” Joss cocked an eyebrow. Was he kidding? “You have to ask?” A slow lazy grin warmed his face. “That wasn’t crazy. That was hot.” She rolled her eyes. He would say that, wouldn’t he? “My skirt.” “Is long.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Too long to flash anything when you fall off.” “When huh?” He nodded. “When.” “I’m more worried it might end up above my head.” He laughed but stopped abruptly when she glared at him. “I promise I won’t look when you get tossed.” Joss glanced around her at the full restaurant. “And what about the other hundred people in here?” “Oh come on.” He affected an air of fake severity. “Good decent southern folk would surely avert their eyes from a lady in a state of undress.” She snorted. Half the men in here would trample over their wives for a glimpse of panties.

Faith had no idea if he meant liquor, sex or a game of twister but she was up for all three.

Faith was certain they were breaking several telecommunications laws. Laws that in some states might well count as pornography and probably carried a mandatory prison sentence. Faith was a law abiding citizen. She prided herself on that. She didn’t litter, she didn’t cheat on her taxes and she gave up her seat for little old ladies and gentlemen on the bus. She’d never even jaywalked. And she lived in New York for Christ’s sake! But then his hand reached down and fondled his balls.

He cocked an eyebrow and Joss’s gaze was once again drawn to the white scar that slashed it in half. “You been Googling me?” Joss’s cheeks warmed. “I needed to know I wasn’t letting an axe murderer into our house.

He’d gone too far. He didn’t usually talk to women so frankly. Not with them both fully clothed anyway.

He hadn’t struck her as particularly religious unless she counted the number of times he’d called out to Jesus when he’d been deep inside her.

He looked down at her and their gazes meshed for long moments. “I was wrong before. You’re definitely the best part.” Faith’s breath stuttered in her lungs. Nobody had ever said anything so damn romantic to her in her life. She’d been told she was gorgeous and beautiful and sexy by men who’d been keen to get her into bed but she’d never been told she was the best part of anybody’s anything.

He slid the jack beneath the frame. “I’m down here now...Might as well go all the way.” Joss shut her eyes as his words conjured other things he could do while he was down there. Oh God. She was going to hell.

He smiled that smile again. How could something so lazy do such busy things to her body?

He thought there was chemistry? Faith had always hated chemistry at school but if she’d known a sexy Australian was going to seduce her with it in the future she may have paid more attention.

He wanted to get her naked. Horizontal. He wanted to put his hands all over her. His mouth all over her. He hated her clothes. And his. He wanted them off. He wanted to imprint himself on her skin.

He was a Crosby, Stills and Nash song. He loved the one he was with. He was casual with a capital C.

He was stretched out like he was her own personal playground and she wanted to ride on his equipment for a bit longer.

His aftershave – eau du sex god - wafted her way.

How dare he look so freaking smug like he’d just ticked an item off a sex list? Going down on Matilda. Check.

How old are you?” “Twenty-seven.” Twenty-seven. Older than she’d thought. But still… “I’m thirty-four.” He lifted a shoulder. “So?” So? Joss sighed. “That’s seven years older than you.” He grinned. “Seven years more experienced.” Joss suppressed the urge to laugh hysterically. If he thought he’d be getting some kind of well-honed tantric experience from her, he’d be sorely let down. She was too damn tired to be some kind of Mrs. Robinson. Like he even needed one. “Look, you’re very sweet—” His dramatic wince interrupted her. “Is there where you pat me on the head and tell me to run along now?” It was Joss’s turn to laugh. “Something like that.” “Are you sure I can’t interest you?” He set his broad grin to stun. “I’m really very good with my hands.” Joss didn’t doubt it. “To which my flat tire can attest. But trust me, there are plenty of pretty girls your age in town who would happily volunteer for a demonstration.” And Joss was blindingly envious of every one of them. He slid his hands into his back pockets and set his jaw. “What if I don’t want a girl? What if I want a woman?

I bet if cancer of the penis was more prevalent there’d be a cure for this fucker. I bet if dicks were being amputated or dropping off left, right and centre there’d have been a cure decades ago. There’d be a whole fucking government dick department dedicated to it.

I can’t have sex with you, Troy.” “Yeah. You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” She groaned again. “It’s just that…you’re so damn tempting.” He grinned. At her conflict and the absurdity of it. As if they were teenagers who’d sworn a virginity pledge and had the purity rings to prove it. He rolled up on his side, supporting his head with his palm. “I’m sorry. For being so tempting.” She snorted. “No you’re not.” Troy laughed. “You’re right. I’m not.

If anyone had told Joss last week that she’d be dry humping a twenty-seven-year-old she’d met only five days prior in the bathroom of the loft above her garage, she’d have committed them for psychiatric evaluation. But here she was and she could not get enough. Her body throbbed with need. Maybe she needed committing?

If I’d known a sixty-niner was the way to your heart I would have done it weeks ago.

If you think I haven’t been fantasising about your mouth around my cock, then you’re crazy

I just wish I knew what he was thinking, you know?” Her eyebrows knotted as she searched his face for who knew what. “You’re a guy. Can you shed any light on what the hell goes through a teenage boy’s head?” Troy was pretty sure she did not want to know the kind of things that occupied the brain of a fifteen-year-old male. There was some stuff mothers just shouldn’t know. “Well that would be breaking the guy code,” he teased. “Suffice to say that most of it involves chicks and heavy levels of nudity.” “Oh God…” She groaned. “Don’t. I’m not ready for that. I don’t even want to think about it.” She chewed on her bottom lip and Troy lost his place in the conversation. He wanted to step right up into her space, slide his hand onto her waist and soothe that bottom lip with his tongue. His dick got hard at the thought but he was pretty sure she’d knee him in the balls if he even attempted such a move. Unfortunately, not even the prospect of that killed his erection.

I liked you better when you were drugged.” “Yeah well, I liked you better when I was drugged too.

I like this skirt. Makes a guy wonder just how to get a girl out of it.

I’ll wash. Looks like brute strength is required.” Matilda wasn’t about to argue. Might as well put those ridiculous muscles to good use. “I doubt I could write them into submission somehow.” “No,” Tanner agreed, heading to the sink and flicking on the taps, intent on filling the industrial size sink and agitating the water as he squirted in some detergent. “You could, however, write about how I heroically and uncomplainingly scrubbed pots for hours while being witty and charming all at the service of some of the city’s less fortunate.” “You want me to add in how woodland animals came in from the alley to befriend you?

I love you like the woman I am now. Not the girl I was. I’m battered and bruised and I’m tougher, but I’m still here. I’m scared to death, but I’m more frightened of a life without you.

I meant what I said about sex.” His hand slid all the way up her leg, pushing what little skirt was still covering her out of the way, holding it in a bunch at her belly button. Her nudity was fully exposed to his gaze and he looked his fill, breathing out hard. “Who said anything about sex?” He leaned in, his mouth dropping to the pale slice of skin between where his hand held her skirt and the thatch of hair between her legs. She wasn’t trimmed as was the fashion among the women he usually took to his bed but Troy was not a fussy guy and here, under the stars, his head filling with the musky scent of her arousal, au naturel seemed fitting. The ragged pant of her breathing stuttered into the air as he lazily stroked his tongue down. Down. Down. Down. She roused. Shifted. Raised herself up on her elbows, her abs tightening, her thighs tensing. “I think you’ll find that still counts,” she said, obviously throwing one last-ditch effort into denying herself the pleasure she so clearly craved. He chuckled low, his warm breath fanning her belly, satisfied to feel gooseflesh stippling the soft skin. “If you think this is sex, you need to read some more textbooks, doc.

I’m going to drag you down to the basement, kneel at your feet, rip your jeans down and I’m going to make you come so hard with my tongue the whole damn pub will think you’re being murdered.

I never thought I'd get a second chance at a first time with you

I think you just made me forget my own name. Not even amnesia managed that.

I thought you might appreciate waking up to a hot mouth on a certain part of your anatomy." He smiled. "My...lips?" "Lower.

It’s been a long time,” he murmured, prowling towards her, drawing to a halt just out of reaching distance. Not long enough. Not nearly long enough as the incredible mix of soap, deodorant, and cologne he wore so well had her body responding like he was an original glazed Krispy Kreme. Still warm from the oven. Dear God...he did still smell good enough to eat.

It was him against the flames and he revelled in it. Logan was good at his job. Exceptionally good. He had the Knight gift for it. There was no fear of the fire that would turn most mortals to jelly because flames licked in his blood. To him it was a battle - good against evil. And he was the good guy.

It was the kind of mouth that should only be found on angels. Chick angels.

I’ve got some good physical therapy for you. Any good at fencing?” Joss almost choked on her mouthful of coffee. She sat up straight in her chair and shook her head. “No, Gus.” Troy ignored her. “I can fence in my sleep.” “Gus.” She narrowed her eyes at her father-in-law who could be stubborn as a mule. “He dislocated his elbow. He shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting with his arm. Not to mention it’s going to be in a splint for a couple of weeks.” “He’s still got his right arm, don’t he?” “Yeah,” Troy drawled, amusement flattening his vowels even more than usual. “I’ve still got my right arm.” She glared at Gus. “You want to take on a one-armed fencer?” “Damien’s got his summer job starting today so I’m losing my sidekick and Cody’s out with his broken leg for another couple of weeks. It’d be handy to have even one extra hand on.” “I bet I can fence better one-armed than most men can with two.” There was no bravado to the claim. His expression was sincere and Joss believed him. She didn’t doubt this man could do a crap ton of things better than most men.

Jemima Jane Erickson was one drunken pass away from jumping Ethan Weston's bones. He just didn't know it.

Julia had been angry most of her life. She may have grown up in wealth and privilege but she’d had to fight to be heard and seen. To be validated. To be something other than a piece to be moved around her parents’ Monopoly board. Rage had given her a voice against their manipulations and the guts to walk away. But it had also become ingrained. There were times when she’d contemplated therapy for it. Right now, she was pleased she hadn’t. If anything could kill this cancer it would be the weight of Julia’s wrath.

Look,’ she said, sidling a little closer to him in the lift. ‘I understand this wasn’t what you bargained for when some cute girl at the café dared you to jump out of a plane with her. You were in it for thrills and sex and you got breast-cancer girl, her terrifying friend and her flaky mother. That’s above and beyond. And I totally get you’re here because you’d feel like some louse if you left her now, but it’s okay, she’s going to be fine, I’m going to take good care of her.

Lordy... This man should be locked up. A smile that could surely cause mass ovulation had to be illegal.

Love is a risk. It always is. None of us is guaranteed a long life. But love takes courage.

Not even an advancing All Blacks haka could have dragged him away from the swing of her ass

Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs.” She dutifully tensed her thighs. “Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh.” His voice dropped, his lips pressing in closer to her ear as he murmured, “I know you know how to do that.” A surge of heat shot from her core. Didn’t he know she was having a hard enough time sitting on the damn thing as it was without sexual innuendo messing with her equilibrium? She shot him a don’t-make-me-get-off-this-thing look but gripped. Hard. “Atta girl,” he whispered. Joss gritted her teeth. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.

Now, how are you getting back to the motel?” He looked like he was going to argue some more, shifting slowly in the gurney to a more upright position but something pulled him up short and he winced. “I’ll catch a cab.” “And is there someone who can keep an eye on you?” He’d been pretty wiped out from the morphine. She’d be more comfortable discharging him if she was doing it to someone’s care. “Are you kidding? The rodeo’s over. The motel will be full of yahooing bull riders.” “I mean someone who’ll actually look in on you, not be drunk off their ass while you throw up in your sleep and choke on your own vomit.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I bet you’re fun at parties.” Parties? Ha! She should be so lucky. “I’m a real treat.