Quotes from Cindy Gerard

Do things to me, Luke. Do things that will make us forget everything going on outside this room.

Jesus, would you look at him. Hair too long and too blond. Eyes too sexy and too blue. Body too buff, ego in danger of liftoff. Standing there in his tight fitted jeans, painted-on T-shirt, and snakeskin boots, he looked like God's guilty gift. Trouble was, he knew it.

The little imp had gone Brazilian. Damn him for a sinner but the thoughts that zinged through his mind would make the roof of a church cave in on him. Thoughts like: She better have done that with me in mind because I'm not letting anyone with a set of balls near her ever again. Thoughts like: Mine. Mine and mine.

show up here." "Let's go then," she said on a breathy sigh. "Not yet." The music thrummed, rising to a loud crescendo, and so did Fiona's pulse, pounding in her ears while Scorpio's fingertip grazed the lace edging of her panties.

So sorry," she bit out with the sweetness of alum, "but you're going to have to translate that one for me. I'm not fluent in brooding male grunting.

He didn't even like the woman. We don't have to like her to fuck her —this from Skippy, his one-eyed wonder snake, who in Nolan's misspent youth had done a lot of his thinking for him and still felt entitled to express an opinion from time to time.

He checked the chamber of the .22, then held it out to her. "Tell me you know how to use this." She was still catching her breath, but her mind and her mouth were in full working order. "Stand still for two seconds and I'll give you a demonstration.

Scarface, Boxer, and Rambo. She couldn't have gotten Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod? she wondered with a desperate kind of hysteria. Moe, Larry, and Curly? The Three Amigos? Rambo tugged a length of rope out of his hip pocket, handed his rifle to Boxer and grabbed her wrist.

she'd looked at him with love in her eyes and hope in her heart and made him feel like he might just deserve both.

Once a Ranger, always a Ranger, he thought in disgust. Life's basics were pretty much centered around war, beer, and sex—the order subject to change with the terrain. The terrain standing in front of him in nothing but thin silk and telling eyes shuffled sex to the top of the list. Which proved another Ranger axiom: The little head did most of the thinking.

my gosh." Rhonda pressed a hand over her heart, and tears pooled in her eyes as she looked toward the door. "Eva." Coop walked over to meet Eva and Mike, who stood protectively beside her. "Are you . . . should you . . . can I . . . ?" Eva smiled. "Yes, I'm ready to be out. Yes, I should be here. And yes, you

What's the matter, Garrett? Am I getting a little too close to the truth?" "What you're getting a little too close to is a spanking.

She loved him. He loved her. And she wasn't going to let him mess this up for them.

He didn't deserve her—wouldn't in a million years—and he damn well should have stayed the hell away. But she was the best thing that had ever happened to him and if it took the rest of his life, he was going to figure out a way to become the best thing that ever happened to her.

When he pulled away from the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers, still holding her. "Nothing's going to happen to you as long as I'm drawing breath, Buttercup." "Gosh. I bet you say that to all the computer nerds." He grinned. "Nah. Just the ones who smell good and wear my hickeys on their breasts.

Let's go find someplace with a little less traffic." She grinned up at him. "I like it here." He narrowed his eyes. "Just once, could you pretend to agree with me on something? Or are you always going to be this obstinate?" "Try me." "Black," he said. "White." "Yes." "No." "Stay." "Go." "Great. Knew I could get you to see it my way.

The heck with it. What you see is what you get. Like it or lump it. It matters not to me.

Ethan didn't have a month in mind. While it shocked the hell out of him, one look and he'd been thinking forever. And after one night with Darcy Prescott in his bed, he wasn't sure forever would be enough.

Christ. How did it happen that in less than a week one small, stubborn redhead had managed to scrape away his insulating calluses, set his lifeblood flowing again, and force him to feel something other than numb?