Best 85 quotes in «cowboys quotes» category

If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s what a woman can do to a man’s common sense. Admittedly, I never thought it would happen to you.

Love never fails.

I guess you’re going for the hard-ass Texas Ranger thing today” ~ Laney Briggs

I know what you're up to." "I doubt that." Hayes leaned toward her, his hand looping around the back of McKenzie's neck as he gently drew her to him. "Because if you could see what I was up to, then you'd know I was about to kiss you.

In the distance, he could see a large star made out of red and green lights on the side of a barn, a reminder that Christmas was coming.

I really doubt it’s a stroke of luck that she’s turned up in your life again.

It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He laughed. "No, honey, that would be you.

I’ve met a couple real cowboys in my life, and I’ve seen an awful lot of fellas who like to dress the part without any real need. Drugstore cowboys we used to call them. The real ones tend to be a lot less flash and sparkle, and tend to carry themselves with a lot more humility. I suppose the real work that cowboyin’ involves helps a fella grow accustomed to the taste of humble pie.

I want you, too, Hayes Cardwell, and that isn't the beer talking." They were so close she could see the shine of his dark eyes in the starlight. Without another word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the cabin.

Manhandeling a lady was asking for trouble pretty much anywhere, but square in the middle of cowboy-central, it was close to suicidal.

I grew up around some great philosophers: they were coal miners and cowboys born in the 1920s. They were also vets of World War II. Listen to your elders, there isn’t any better wisdom for you.

I'll catch my death" "If you don't get out of my sight, you won't have to catch death. I'll bring it to you

I only swing for one girl. But if she's into a certain kind of kink, who am I to deny her such pleasantries?"~ Luke Wagner

Maggie chiuse gli occhi e contò sino a dieci. Uno, due, tre… Se voleva arrivare a casa di sua sorella prima che facesse notte, non aveva altra scelta che chiedere al cowboy di accompagnarla. Certo, avrebbe sempre potuto optare per il motel e attraversare quelle duecento iarde pullulanti di lupi. Un altro ululato. No, non avrebbe potuto. «Lupi» disse Mitch, il braccio sinistro che sporgeva indolente dal finestrino, il mozzicone del sigaro stretto tra le dita. «Lupi» ripeté lei con un’alzata di spalle, come se si trattasse di barboncini addestrati. Poi mosse un paio di passi esitanti verso il pick-up. Quell’affare era così alto che dovette allungare il collo e sollevare la testa per parlare al cowboy. «Mi chiedevo…» mormorò vincendo ogni residua resistenza. Lui rimase immobile, se non per il sopracciglio sinistro che scattò verso l’alto. «… se per caso tu non potessi darmi uno strappo.» Lui finse di prendere in considerazione la cosa. Poi, con un altro sbuffo di fumo, disse: «Mi sembrava che avessi rifiutato la mia offerta, dieci minuti fa...». «Perché non intendevo esserti di disturbo» rispose lei come se si stesse rivolgendo alla duchessa di Kent. E di fatti lui scoppiò a ridere. «Essermi di disturbo? Dopo avermi assalito come un ninja? Ma sarò magnanimo. Dai, sali.» Maggie tirò un sospiro di sollievo. Era così stanca e infreddolita che anche quel pick-up scassato le parve per un istante una limousine. «Dove metto la valigia?» «Buttala dietro, nel cassone.» Buttare nel cassone la sua Samsonite rosa, costata una cifra improponibile? «Preferirei sistemarla in cabina, se non ti spiace.» «In cabina non c’è posto, qua dietro è pieno di roba. A meno che tu preferisca viaggiare nel cassone e la valigia sul sedile…» Lei rimase zitta, gli occhi sgranati, per nulla certa che quella fosse solo una battuta. «Ok, ci penso io» tagliò corto lui, aprendo la portiera e scivolando a terra con un balzo. Afferrò il trolley per la maniglia e, senza un’altra parola, lo fece volare nel cassone. Oh! Il botto risuonò nelle orecchie di Maggie come una granata. Risistemandosi lo Stetson sulla testa, il cowboy girò intorno al pick-up e con un sorriso esagerato aprì la portiera del passeggero. «Sali, sorella di Suzie, o vuoi che dia una mano anche a te?»

Man or woman didn't matter. Marty liked men, Kent liked women, and Bridge apparently liked both. But Eric was the one he wanted above all others, and for whatever reason, that felt all kinds of right. "Shit. I'm Eric-sexual.

Never a horse that can’t be rode and never a rider that can’t be throwed. (I’ll pass this off as my own, but I really stole it from my father, a cowboy and rodeo rider in his younger years.)

Meg was all natural. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but her skin was so smooth, dotted with angel kisses, as his mother called freckles. He wanted to trace those freckles with his tongue, kiss each one and see if they covered her whole body or only parts kissed by the sun.

Oh yeah?” Grady pulled out another chuck of wintergreen Skoal and stuffed it under his lower lip. “There ain’t a bull in the world that can’t be rode, sweetheart—” “Or a cowboy that can’t be throwed,” Janice finished with a smirk of her own. Although one of the top contenders, Grady needed to be taken down a peg or two and Janice hoped Dirk would be the one to do it. -ROUGH RIDER

No matter how much he loves you, sometimes he'd just rather have an inch of rain than anything else in the world.

Oh, there's not much to tell. I served in the Ninth Iowa Infantry. That's where I met Frankie...Frank. I mean, Mr. Greerson. We were discharged almost a year go, July of last year, and stayed with my mother over the winter. And then we came here. That's about it.

One cowboy is never enough.

Plans make dreams reality.

Operation: Hansel & Gretel

She didn’t need anyone to tell her he was all wrong for her and yet…

She'd known from the moment she said "I do" that she really truly did.

Puttin’ on a cowboy hat & a pair of boots doesn’t make you country; Like puttin’ on a ball gown & glass heels won’t make me Cinderella.

She had an ass that could make any man sin."~ Gunner Wilson

She had to laugh. "You're making me hungry." "Me, too." His gaze locked with hers, making it clear it wasn't just barbecue he was hungry for.

She'll never be all the way tame, just the way she's made ... sorta like you, I imagine.

She wore a simple purple long-sleeved turtleneck, but streaks of white across her chest - flour perhaps? - distracted him, made him want to volunteer for cleanup duty.

She was dangerous. I’d heard the rumors, that she had a history as a wild woman, that she’d been married to a gambler, maybe even been one herself, that her past was scandalous at best. But who was I to judge? My past was littered with scandal.

She was partial to the tie. Not too long ago he did unspeakable things to her with that tie.

The motorcycle’s headlights cut through the darkness. Ahead the road was nothing but a black hole. She roared toward it.

So, what’s our next move?” He grinned. “I know what I’d like mine to be.

Sitting up, Jocelyn rolled her head from side to side. “Been better.” “Heard you’re a doctor now.” She grabbed the thermometer. “Yes, a veterinarian.” Placing her fist on her ample hip, Mia scoffed, “You go to that fancy school in Washington State and now you don’t eat meat?” “Good Lord! I’m not a vegetarian—

The Billionaires' Indulgence series is addicting and a heck of a wild ride!

The more she stared, the happier his dick was to swell with pride, doing a stellar flagpole imitation. About a year later, Tierney dragged her gaze away from his groin and looked him in the eye. "This is why I was against casual Thursdays. There's always that one person who takes it too far.

The only thing better than a cowboy in Wranglers is a cowboy out of Wranglers.

There was a spider…

The snow in the mountains had changed everything. Frank swore as he listened on the phone to the head of search and rescue describing the conditions they'd run into on the other side of the Crazies. "The terrain is too dangerous," Jim Martin said. "Even experienced ground crews found many areas too difficult to traverse with the snow." "What about the searchers in the helicopters?" "They should be able to see tracks in the snow once the clouds life." Jim didn't sound optimistic. "The storm isn't moving on as fast as the weatherman predicted.

When the longhorns could be gathered up and driven, it was theorized that the heat from the herd's mass attracted lightning. (Such was the radiant heat from a large herd that a cowboy's face would be blistered on whichever side of the herd he'd ridden by the day's end.) Their great horns also seemed to attract electricity, so that lightning and ground-electricity would bounce around from horn to horn throughout the herd - a phantasmagoric burning blue circuitry. The cracking of the cowboy's whips and the twitching of the cattle's tails also emitted sparkling "snakes of fire.

The Soviets were worried that the Americans would attack their "sparkling new Mir space station, ... in a space shuttle, throw out grappling hooks, forcibly board the peaceful habitat and claim it as captured territory. To the hard-core Soviet mind-set, the American government was an unstable combination of cowboys and gangsters, unpredictable and capable of any insane action. The cosmonauts would have to be armed against outrageous aggression.

They did not look at each other. They did not say a word to each other... They knew that talk is meaningless when a common knowledge is already there. The silence bound them as no words ever could.

Trixie murmured. "It's on like Donkey Kong.

Trust me... It's not called Wicked Pleasure for nothing. You won't be able to put it down once you start!!!

Trust wisely and believe in yourself, in your vision.

Tyler rounded the hood and opened the door. 'What?' he asked when she grinned at him. 'You've got a slide-over-here-honey seat!' His eyes crinkled with laughter. 'Well, what are you doing all the way over there?

We were going to talk," she whispered. "We are talkin', darlin'. We'll use words when necessary," he said softly.

This poetry is utilitarian—heavy-duty, industrial strength poetry. It is meant to be read aloud and, even better, memorized and recited. It is best used in the natural world where there are starlit skies, the warmth of blazing fires, and sounds and sights of open expanse. This book is meant to be carried with you in the glove box of a pickup truck, the back pocket of a worn pair of pants, even a saddlebag. It is not made to take up space on a library shelf, squeezed between other unread volumes. Take it along; you never know when the opportunity will be just right. Nothing pleases more than to see copies of the book twice as thick as the original from continued page turning, with turned-down corners marking favorite poems, or the whole shape curved to match the owner’s posterior.

Turning, she saw a crow staring at her from the balcony with its beady little dark eyes. The bird flapped its silken ebony wings at her and hopped to the chair closest to the open door. Wasn’t there some superstition about crows and death?