Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

More dragons incoming...

Moscow appeared to her as an Asiatic sprawl of twisting streets, wooden shanties, and horse cabs. But already another Moscow was rising up through the chaos of the first. Streets built to accommodate donkey tracks have been torn open and replaced with boulevards broader than two or three Park Avenues. On the sidewalks, pedestrians were being detoured onto planks around enormous construction pits. A smell of sawdust and metal filings hung in the air

Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed, “We should probably wait.” Owen drew back, and she could feel him studying her. She waited as long as she could stand it before she opened her eyes and grinned. He chuckled, low in his throat, a predatory gleam in his eye. “Not a chance,” he muttered, closing in.

Morrow ... my heart is on the ground." The simple Shawnee phrase rent her heart. She simply bent her head as he whispered, "Remember how much I love you. Remember love bears all things.

Morrigan moved across the room as if she were floating. “I will acknowledge your anger, Aerric, but only for a moment. The others will lead the charge against the fledglings, but I want you to track Liam and report back to me directly. How many Sluagh did you take out today?” I shook my head. “Five total, but with all due respect, Goddess, I am going to need a bit more of an explanation as to why the love of my life is lying here before me, alive and well, when she was supposed to have died two centuries ago.

Most of our brains are out, but it is good what they did for themselves by leaving this country. They are Cameroon’s reserve for development, for the day that this country shall be free. Your late father was an intelligent man. He was even more than that. He was a sage. He once said to me that the intelligent Bamilekés are those who have sought a better future for themselves and for their families in British Cameroons. He was right. They have not been brainwashed as much as their francophone brothers have. If he were alive today, I am sure he would have judged that the intelligent Cameroonians are those who have sought refuge out of Cameroon.

Mostly because Lydia said after a long silence, "Holy shit. We are living in a Nicholas Sparks novel." "Exactly," she said from between her knees. "And I'm so not okay with that.

Most of my money remains in England, although my unworthy carcass may not under usual circumstances ...

Most guys would be happy to have a woman so vocal about her desires,” he said in a voice several degrees huskier than before. “Half the time, we have no clue if a woman is enjoying herself.” “Really?” “Not me. Just trying to represent for my maligned gender.

Most inherent beauties are hidden, as are precious stones in the rocks

Mostly, what people mean by love is laziness.

most of the times it’s the hardest to say what I love more you or your memory.

Most of the conversation was said with our eyes. Our eyes told truths neither of us could understand. Her a Goddess and me her pew. It was spent with me looking at her and her looking elsewhere. Perpendicular.

Most of the truly kind people of this world show some measure of discomfort when offered kindness. Their gratitude stems not only from their understanding of the depth of the force of kindness, but also from their conviction that kindness should not be taken for granted.

Most of us do things for reasons that are more purely personal. For love, or for hate.

Most people have this tendency to make judgments on others based on preconceptions, especially when they are dealing with them for the first time.

Most people would rather suffer through a bad situation than take the steps needed to free themselves, especially if they knew that by freeing themselves, it would make them hunted.

Mother, I will look to like. If looking liking moves.

Movie without romance feels like food without flavor.

Mother said, haven't you seen older boys of your age, that you should take your rotten hands and play with my son's penis? I held my mouth, and i really stiffled a giggle. Now i understood the bloody vexation and the reckless act performed by our housegirl. She was fondling my infant part, and i knew she was horny and lost in the act.

Mr. Carter cleared his throat. “Soy sauce.” He deadpanned. “Really, Sera?

Mr. Jennings is the one who trapped the fairies here to begin with. If they’re back and wandering around, if they’re loose, then, well, it’s not good.

Mrs. Panabaker is ten years older than God and probably smarter. She stops into the offices every other Thursday to tell my dad what she didn't like about his sermon the previous Sunday. She makes fudge-covered marshmallows at Christmas time and force feeds them to anyone too slow to escape. I've never seen her out of a suit dress and floral scarf, and on Sundays she always wears a matching hat. Last week was a salmon-colored number, and her hat was draped in fake fruit. I wanted to try to eat one of the grapes just to see what she'd do, but I value my life.

Ms. Scarlett always delivers hot, sexy alphas and this isn't any different. Holy smokes, is this ever HOT! Love her writing and the way she spins a story but adds the HOT factor. Her alphas are phenomenal! - JC

Moving on was going to require leaving the woods and getting a friend set that didn’t have gray hairs, hip replacements and a few false teeth.

Muriah approached him with a new pair of khakis and a couple of T-shirts. “I guessed at the size so you might want to go try these on first.” He took the clothes and slid his arm around her waist, maneuvering her toward the fitting room. “Hey, I didn’t sign on to be your dresser.” She grumbled, but didn’t struggle. He pulled the door closed and turned to meet her eyes. “It’s light in here and full of people. Apep will not be able to surprise us, and his serpents cannot spy. We need to talk.” *** He stripped off the wet shirt, exposing his chiseled torso. She did her best not to choke on her tongue. His tanned skin and taut muscles tempted her, luring her to touch him. Turning around to give him privacy seemed like the right thing to do, but there wasn’t a hint of modesty in this Mayan god, and if he could handle getting this personal, then she could, too. When he unzipped the wet pants, she held her breath. Would an ancient guy wear underwear? She was about to find out. He bent over to lower the wet slacks. When he straightened up, she realized he’d been talking, but she didn’t have a clue what he had said. Instead, all her attention was focused on a fine trail of dark hair leading from just below his navel and disappearing under the low-slung elastic band of his boxer briefs. “Muriah?” Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Thank the universe he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Yeah?” “Did you hear my question?” He stood two feet from her in only his underwear, and he thought she was listening? He was either completely unaware of his sex appeal, or he was way too accustomed to being obeyed. Probably both. She cleared her throat. “I must’ve missed it.” A spark lit his eyes that told her he might have more than a clue to his sex appeal. He picked up the T-shirt and pulled it on. “I asked if you knew of another hotel closer to the airport so we can get out of New York as soon as the sun sets tomorrow.” “I’m sure I can find one.” She pulled out her phone, grateful to have something to pretend to focus on besides him tucking his package into the new khakis she pulled off the rack for him. “I probably should’ve grabbed some dry underwear, too.” “They are nearly dry now. I will be fine.” He popped the tags off, and she glanced up from her hotel search. “They’re not going to like you taking the tags off before you pay.” The corner of his mouth curved up. “They will be honored to take my money.” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Do you ever not get your way?” He stepped closer to her, his chest an inch from hers until her back pressed against the modular wall of the fitting room. “Rarely.” His dark gaze held hers, and the deep rumble of his voice sent heat through her body. “But some things are worth the extra effort.

Much more. We're joined at the heart." "Bad luck for you, I'm afraid. My ticker's pretty wonky." "Too much boozing." His eyes twinkled, and he drew me close. "Not enough kissling.

Mungkin kau harus berhenti memedulikan apa kata orang tentang dirimu.

Murphy didn’t appear to notice my chagrin, but instead pulled up the hem of his long-sleeved tee to wipe at his face. Since he flashed his sculpted abdominals right at me, I grew hot and flushed. I mean, you could see every dip and curve, including the ones on either hip that made a V to lead the eye to the fly of his jeans.

Music is the secret language that effortlessly connects our bodies, our minds, and our souls. I’m addicted to the lyrics— they speak to me in a way only he and I will understand. So, until it’s safe to speak my mind, I’ll speak to him through lyrics. I’m addicted to him. He’s a song I never want to end.

Music is another language, one so close to actual thought, strung together, sometimes staccato, flowing, and sometimes even nonsensical or harsh to the ears. It’s truth in an otherwise dishonest world.

My Angel, goddess of my heart, you are beautiful.

My body felt alive. I need more. "Valkyrie," Fen growled, eyes locked on my mouth. "Put your lips back on mine, and I will give you what you crave.

My beast recognized her as his, wanted her now, yesterday, tomorrow. And always, Yes, the dragon knew, but the man refused to accept it. Like I had any choice. Fate gave her to me. A human. The daughter of the enemy.

My belly is a mess with criss-crossing football scars but I don't care. I'm not sure being beautiful ever helped me and I'm looking forward to being the opposite. I see open terrain in the land of the fearlessly scarred.

My best friend has warned me to stay away. Violet, a girl raised by the Terror, has warned me to stay away, but even after digesting her advice, knowing the rumors and experiencing what I have, I can't leave. The bandage on Razor's arm and the cuts and bruises along his side testify to how dangerous his life is, but with one long look into those beautiful eyes , I know that I'm a lost cause to logic. I've already fallen in love.

My angel of mercy.” The gut-wrenching words stabbed Masie in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called that. She looked down, horrified by what she saw. He was lying in a pool of blood, his hand out-stretched. “My angel,” he wheezed as he struggled to breathe. He was a warrior, strong and fearless. She bent down and whispered softly in his ear, “Close yer eyes and I’ll end yer pain.” She paused just before her teeth sank into his flesh. Something within his essence held her back. He had to live.

My advice for those of you who felt being marginalised, undervalued and taken for granted; guess what? That is the Arena where God creates Leaders.

My brother doesn't know how to think of anything other than his own responsibilities." "Perhaps she will teach him-?" "Perhaps? Possibly? Maybe? Mother, Elin deserves better. Every woman deserves better.

My cousin fell in love with a dom, so I checked into it to see if I needed to kill him before they got married.

My breath catches in my throat as a chill makes me shiver, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. My eyes latch on to his, pleading with him to kiss me.

My comebacks aren't nearly as sharp as my shiv. Come inside and I'll show you.

My courage is faith--faith in the eternal resilience of me--that joy'll come back, and hope and spontaneity. And I feel that till it does I've got to keep my lips shut and my chin high and my eyes wide--not necessarily any silly smiling. Oh, I've been through hell without a whine quite often--and the female hell is deadlier than the male.

My darling love, I think you have a fundamental misconception about what it means to be a great dandy. I have better taste than anyone else so I don't care what anyone else thinks about anything. I am right and they are wrong.

My dear lady, you have no idea just how scandalous I can be. ~Peter Viktor von Strassenberg, 1905

My dream is to create something so beautiful that it encourages people to present the best version of themselves to me everywhere I go.

My dad liked to say that magic itself is never black; only the uses to which it is put, but mind magic is already tinted a deep, dark gray.

...my desire for him exploded into a great hunger. I was dizzy with it.

My dad used to say, ‘This is what your right arm’s for, son,’” John said. “This is the time and these are the people and I’d give my right arm to be a light, a comfort, to them. I know you would, too. In whatever form it takes. Use these materials and make something great. Do it on faith, knowing you probably won’t be around to see how the story ends.

My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is almost as disgraceful as the way Gwendolen flirts with you.