Best 17 quotes of Jamie Farrell on MyQuotes

Cinna slid down the bar, sassing three groomsmen and winking at a fourth on her way. “I totally get why some animals eat their young,” Pepper said.

Could you keep it down? You’re bothering Spike.” Both men peered at her feet, as though looking for a dog or a pet hamster or a stroller. “Spike?” Linebacker Guy said. She smiled at him. “My pet dragon? He’s very uncomfortable with strangers.” She made a show of stroking the air next to her. “It’s okay, Spike. Spencer will be here soon, and we’ll talk to him about you starring in his next novel, okay?

Get back to work." "Fine way to talk to your wife." "If you were my wife, I would've slapped your ass too." She stared at him a beat too long. She did love the feel of his hands on her ass.

He looked up from the paper he was scribbling on and offered her a lopsided grin. “Hey, sweet pea. You bring me anything special?” The lopsided bit wasn’t odd, but there was something forced about it. “Got a fresh bag of cat food outside.” Cat food that she’d bought with the twenty he’d left to pay for his ice cream. He pushed his makeshift drum set aside and rose with a stretch. “Words every man dreams of hearing. Make my night if you say you got catnip too.” She tried not to giggle. She tried hard. But she couldn’t help herself. “Extra strength,” she said. This time, his grin came out bigger, less forced. “Woman of my dreams.” “In your dreams,” she said.

He was the most handsome nightmare she had ever met.

I am so not kissing you tonight,” she informed him. He chuckled softly. And if she thought his smile was dangerous, his chuckle should’ve been classified as a biological weapon. Sin in a sound wave. “But now you’re thinking about what it would be like, ain’t you?” he said. “Only my stupid parts.

It is utterly unfair,” she said, shooing Wrigley away and tossing aside her blanket, “that your country boy smile isn’t illegal.” She pulled her feet from beneath him, but then she swung a leg over him and straddled his lap, still smiling at him while she took his cheeks in her hands and pressed a soft, open-lipped kiss to his mouth. Will’s pulse kicked up the tempo. He gripped her hips and pushed against her, parted his lips to make way for her tongue. Music exploded inside him. Electric guitars, keyboard, fiddle, bongos. No words, just the white-hot melody of their bodies. The intoxicating scent of her shampoo tickled his nose, but the intrigued woman scent was stronger—heady and spicy and everything. He wanted her.

One side of his lips quirked up in a sexy smirk. “Got a cure for that frustration you got going on,” he said. “Got a cure for your ego?

She gulped her whiskey sour. The bar was hot tonight. CJ circled back to check on them. "You ladies doing okay?" "Define okay." Natalie's whiskey seemed to be talking. Because the whiskey was the only thing that could've put that husky, suggestive tone in her voice. Yep, that was all the whiskey. He propped his elbows on the bar, which put his face level with hers, and fixed his undivided attention on her. There went her lady bits fanning themselves. With a few added whimpers. They remembered what his hands and body and lips felt like too. "Content." His voice was low and raw, his gaze penetrating and unwavering. "Happy. Completely, one hundred percent satisfied." Her mouth went dry while the rest of her went up in needy flames that made her want to scratch the all-but-gone rash he'd tended so well on Monday. "Nope," Natalie squeaked. "Not okay then.

She ran her hands under his shirt, over his chest, her cool touch igniting shivers over his skin. “Is this a ploy to get another song out of me?” she asked. “It’s a ploy to get you out of your pants.” “And what, exactly, are you planning on doing once you get me out of my pants?” Will felt his lips curving up again. “Darlin’, you leave the details to me.

She was the only one who made him hear music. The only one who made him feel home. The only one who wanted nothing more than for him to be plain, simple Will Truitt.

The Milked Duck was empty, save for Dahlia’s two part-time helpers, but they were all rushing around, anticipating the first guests for her Risqué Flavor Tasting event any moment now. The up front freezers were stocked with Chocolate Orgasm, Peachy Passion, Sexual Favors, Mikey’s favorite Cherry Popper and more. She had a case of Sin on a Stick treats ready to go and a temporary menu up on the board behind her.

There's something you need to know," he said. Her own breath came out loud and uneven. He was entirely in her personal space, but she'd given him enough power as it was. She wouldn't back away, wouldn't let him see her agitation. He tucked her hair behind her ear. Tension took hold of her body. She shuddered, looked up to tell him to stop, but he bent forward, his lips parted, a single freckle on his cheek drawing her attention while his lips got closer and closer and closer until --- "For future reference," he said, "I never kiss horribly." And before she could blink or breathe or think, his lips closed over hers. His grip tightened in her hair, and when she should've protested or pulled away or kicked him in the shins, her body melted into his. Kissing him was wrong.... So wrong. She was so good at so wrong.

Though everyone who mattered to him told him to walk away, though Lindsey herself told him to walk away, he was still here. And she was still glad.

Two years ago, she had inherited The Milked Duck Ice Cream Shoppe in downtown Bliss from Great Aunt Agnes. After getting her degree in sociology and then bouncing around the country, waffling from job to job and one relative’s couch to another, she’d finally found where she fit: creating and serving happiness to the locals and the destination wedding tourists in Bliss.

You could make friends with a possessed unicorn, couldn’t you?” “Probably so. We both fart rainbows.

You wanna go see my old bedroom?” “Is that a pickup line?” “Come on inside and you’ll find out.” How was a girl supposed to resist an offer like that?