Quotes from Linda Howard

His mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed the way no man should kiss and still be allowed to run free.

The world was divided into two groups: those who showered at night, and those who showered in the morning.

It was amazing how flowers could grow in the damnedest places, but the Devlin weed patch had sprouted quite a wildflower in Faith.

You see? he asked, his voice softening to a velvety punas he felt her tremble. His warm breath stirred her hair. All I have to do is touch you. It's the same for me, Faith. I don't like this worth a damn, but by God, I want you, and we're going to do something about it.

You guys take over while I go put on a shirt. Mrs. Kulavich had edged close enough to hear him. She beamed at him. Don't bother on my account, she said. Sadie! Mr. Kulavich said in rebuke. Oh, hush, George! I'm old, not dead! I'll remind you of that the next time I want to watch the Playboy Channel, he growled.

She felt both relaxed and protected with him, at least from outside forces. Nothing, it seemed, could protect her from him, and tonight she wasn't even certain she wanted to be. Claimed, and mated. She was his, but was he hers? And if he was, what in hell did they do about it? "I don't even know what you want," she said fretfully, beginning to lose herself in rising sensation. "This," he muttered in a dark, rough tone. "You. Everything.

What?" he demanded testily. Trammell raised his eyebrows. "I didn't say anything." "You're thinking something, though. You've got that shit-eating smirk on your face." "Why would anyone smirk while they eat shit?" Trammell asked rhetorically.

I'm really not hungry," she repeated, lifting the coffee cup and inhaling the fragrant steam before sipping. "Just a few bites," he cajoled, taking his own place beside her. "You need to keep up your strength for tonight." She gave him a heated, slumberous look, remembering her fantasy. "Why? Are you planning something special?" "I suppose I am," he said consideringly. "It's special every time we make love.

Women were always complications, bless their perverse little hearts.

Do you know why men name their cocks? No, why? she asked, trying to stifle her laughter. So most of the major decisions in their lives won't be made by a total stranger.

It's not something I can control, damn it. Every man I know wakes up with a hard-on." "Maybe so, but they do not – repeat, do not - rub it on me." " 'Every man I know' wasn't rubbing it on you! It was just me!" "And it was just your hair that I pulled, wasn't it?" she asked sweetly.

She started to tell him so, but the words vanished unsaid when he abruptly thrust his hands under her skirt, all the way to her waist. Mary gave a startled shriek and jerked back, almost oversetting the chair. He glared at her, his eyes like black ice. You don't have to worry, he snapped. This is Saturday. I only rape on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He supposed he knew, rationally, that she wasn't the prettiest woman in the world, but if his eyes saw any imperfections, his heart didn't care.

She had always enjoyed her sense of being alone, envisioning herself as a ball that rolled through life, bumping into other lives but not stopping.

I told you, we haven't had sex! It was just a kiss. Like the Viper was just a car, and Mount Everest was just a hill.

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You have underwear. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you try it on? Nah. Just rubbed it against my face.

Well, you've done it now, was her sisterly opening shot. Jaine rubbed between her eyebrows; a definite headache was forming. After the exchange with David, she waited to see where this one was going. I won't be able to hold up my head in church. Really? Oh, Shelley, I'm so sorry, Jaine said sweetly. I didn't realize you have the dreaded Limp Neck disease. When were you diagnosed?

We have seven people who knew the skewers were there: the wedding planner, the reception hall manager, the dressmaker, the florist, the veil-maker, the cake-maker, and the caterer. I haven't ruled out the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, either.

I have a rule: Walk out, crawl back. If a man does the first, then he has to do the second to get back on good terms with me.

What are you doing?" she cried in protest. "Playing," he said, the single word rough, almost guttural.

God, I love you, he said, and laid his head on her belly, his arms locked around her hips. Madelyn slid her fingers into his hair. It took you long enough, she said gently. What I lack in quickness, I make up in staying power. Meaning? That I'll still be telling you that fifty years from now. He paused and turned his head to kiss her stomach.

He needed a woman. Bad.

Sign by elevator put up by computer geeks in office building: REMEMBER: FIRST YOU PILAGE, THEN YOU BURN. THOSE WHO DO NOT COMPLY WILL BE SUSPENDED FROM THE RAIDING TEAM. In Mr Perfect