Quotes About Romance

Wade pulled his gaze from hers before he got stuck there again, then retrieved his hat from where it had fallen. He set it on Abigail's head and looked at her appreciatively. She made one heck of a cowgirl. "You were born to wear that thing." "A little big." He gazed at her face, loving the planes and curves that were becoming so familiar. "Fits just right.

She stared into his eyes. He had a way of catching her completely off guard. Always had. Even back when they'd been friends, back before she and Jack had gotten together.

She met his eyes, and he thought for the millionth time that God had invented that shade of green just for her.

Would you like to dance?" She arched a delicate brow. "With you?" He reached for his drink. "I'll take that as a no." "Feel free to ask someone else, Murphy." He wasn't leaving her now, even if he wanted to dance with someone else—and he didn't.

He thought of their kiss—had it really been two days ago? The image of Zac's kiss barreled into his mind. When everyone had filtered into the dining room for cinnamon rolls, Beau had confiscated the mistletoe. If anyone was getting another kiss from Kate, it was going to be him.

She traced the shape of those lips. They were damp and plush and too far away. "You have really nice lips. I missed them." One side of them kicked up, his eyes opening. "Is that all you missed?" She couldn't count on both hands everything she'd missed about Beau. About the Callahans, about Summer Harbor.

Abigail's foot caught on something and she stumbled, pitching forward. Dylan, who was closer, reached out and caught her. Abigail straightened, her eyes averted. "Sorry," she said, pulling away from him. "You can fall into my arms anytime you like." Dylan winked.

Where he'd mistaken her for his muse, only to find she was actually the keeper of his heart.

His lips began moving with the lyrics. Every long-lost dream . . . He was singing them to her, and she wanted to believe he meant them. Believe he felt the way the song's writer had, that the other women had only been a sign pointing him back to her.

His locked on hers, steady and intense. 'That was your last first kiss, Josephine Duprey,' he said softly.

PJ kicked Ryan in the backside for no apparent reason, and he threw her over his broad shoulders just because he could. She squealed and pounded his back, but he didn't set her down until they reached the table. "Brute," PJ said, giving him a playful shove. "Brat." Ryan saved lives, and PJ could feed an army, but when they got together it was like they were twelve.

Case in point: On one of their first dates, he brought her a box of Ivory Flakes soap. Who needs flowers? Roses fade, but flaky soap available from the PX lasted months. Having Ivory Flakes was a rarity in itself, and also saved her valuable time—one less line to stand in, only to find that the grocer was out. Again. That was romance, as far as Colleen was concerned. Maybe this guy was a keeper after all.

And on our lips the blood of berries before we kiss

not yet knowing myself in the slightest, I'd done nothing but convince myself I was in love with one cute, suicidal basket case after another.

Dan thought of love as defined by books, cobwebbed and hidden from view by the past. Too bad a love like that didn't actually exist. In the twentieth century one had to fake it.

and she was so simply his love, his girl, watching him approach as if she were memorizing him and his walk and those flowers and this moment, and he wanted to ask her what sound a heart made when it broke from pleasure, when just the sight of someone filled you the way food, blood, and air never could...

Bechet even briefly played with Duke, and Ellington would take the counterpoint, romance, and beats of New Orleans music and build a compositional cathedral.

He asked that beautiful Yogini in his lucid dream. "How true is the love at first sight?" Yogini smiled at him, and said. "Love seldom happens at first sight. What happens at first sight, in most cases, is an infatuation and a sexual attraction, driven by pure lust and raging hormones. True Love often blossoms slowly. and grows gradually."

Get away from my ex-girlfriend, you moany little whinge-bag.' Caelen took a deep breath, like he was in pain, and stood up. His voice was low, guttural. 'I was hoping I'd get the chance to kill you.' 'You won't be killing anyone, you sad little emo git.' 'You've stood in the way of our love for long enough.' 'Just listening to you makes me want to top myself, you self-pitying Paranormal Romance novel reject.' Caelen glared. 'Stop insulting me.' 'Why? If you cry will your mascara run?

He looked at her. "We're meant to be together…" "And this is exactly what I mean." "Our love is written in the stars." "And there you go again." "I love you." "You bore me.

You say one more thing that sounds like it's ripped from the pages of a really bad gothic romance and I'm out of here, are we clear?" - Valkyrie Cain

Tanith frowned. Did people still go on DATES any more? She was sure they did. They probably called it something different though. She tried to think of the last date she'd been on. The last PROPER date. Did fighting side by side with Saracen Rue count as a date? They ended up snuggling under the moonlight, drenched in gore and pieces of brain - so it had PROBABLY been a date. If it wasn't, it was certainly a fun time had by all. Well, not ALL. But she and Saracen had sure had a blast.

Personally, I think knees should be kept for the eighth or ninth date, or the wedding day. As a nice surprise you know? 'oh, my darling, you have knees! I never would have thought

Well, OK then." He narrowed his eyes. "How about you? Do you have any...romances I should know about?" "Nope. Not one." "Well, good. Excellent. There'll be plenty of time for boys when you leave college and become a nun." She smiled. "I'm glad you have such ambitious dreams for me.