Quotes About Romance

You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops.

a foreign affair juxtaposed with a stateside and domestically approved romantic fancy is mysteriously attractive due to circumstances knowing it will only be parlayed into a memory

There's a fine line between stalking and romanticly pursuing someone said my attorney to the judge.

The rose is red, the violet's blue, The honey's sweet, and so are you. Thou art my love and I am thine; I drew thee to my Valentine. The lot was cast and then I drew, And fortune said it should be you.

A funny thing about girls, though, is that the more you do wrong, the more they like you.

Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.

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I was born into the wrong generation. How I would have loved to have been a dashing young man in the 1930s and 1940s when dance bands and orchestras played at dancehalls, and you could hold your partner close and whisper sweet nothings as you waltzed into her heart.

Maxine, back from a weekend with her boyfriend, smiles like a big cat and says that she's a conjugated verb. She's been doing the direct object with a second person pronoun named Phil

A good old-fashioned romance is the antidote to escape from the harsh realities of the world.

you know lovers walked here, felt the rising sun against their upturned faces here, anticipated tomorrow here, just not today.

I love you but I'm not in love with you

Ah, Rosellini, el médico guapo y serio que se había enamorado perdidamente de ella y no se atrevía a decir con los labios lo que proclamaban a gritos sus ojos!

She put on a white dress and went around all day with roses in her hair and sang hymns.

That little shyster is dating my great-niece?

She reached up to push back his thick brown hair and smiled. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time." "I won't tell you what I've wanted to do," he said with a grin. Her eyes widened. "Why, Mr. Barnett, I thought you to be a gentleman." His expression turned mischievous. "I am—that's why I'm not telling you.

Now, if you're ready, I think we should go have a wedding." Marty nodded in great enthusiasm. "I was ready when I got here. Will said if we didn't get downstairs, he was gonna come up here and get you. He said he'd carry you over his shoulder if he had to. I think he just wants to kiss you." "Oh dear," Hannah said in mock horror. "Then we had better move quickly.

Count this as a mere taste, sweetheart, of all the pleasure I can give you. Marry me and let me show you more. Be mine, and I'll take you on a journey the likes of which you've ever only imagined. ~~ Adam to Mallory

Am I so desperate I must accept any gentleman who is not a villain or a gargoyle?

Lowering his arm again, he gazed at her through the darkness and caught the subtle shimmer of her red hair, visible even in the low light. Reaching out, he gathered up a waist-length strand and rubbed the silky ends between his fingers in a slow, measuring glide. Without giving himself time to think, he raised the tress to his nose and inhaled, closing his eyes as Grace's sweet rose-and-honey scent flooded his senses.

Jack kissed her long and deep, with a driving need that radiated all the way to his bones. Pausing, he took an extra moment to breathe in the honeyed fragrance of her skin, to taste the sweet flavor of her tongue as it slid like hot, damp silk against his own. He shuddered from the pleasure, relishing the sensations as though they were manna from heaven.

Somehow, without her awareness, she'd obviously sought him out during the night, curling around him like a vine while she'd slumbered. Mortified, she tried to pull away. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize... that is, I didn't mean to... to..." "Sleep on me?" he drawled, his words slow and husky. Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded instead. "Don't worry." He smiled. "You make a very nice blanket.

Without warning, a powerful masculine arm, one that could only belong to Northcote, snaked around her waist and pulled her near. "Every pardon, my dear. I fear I have been neglecting you. I hope you will forgive me." Leaning down, he brushed a kiss against her cheek; it burned like fire.

Grace. Her name whispered through Jack's mind like the silken stroke of a hand. He'd never seen her look as pretty as she did tonight, the vibrant bronze hue of her gown lending her skin a creamy luminosity, her hair gleaming a rich, fiery red that reminded him of living flame. And passion. He wondered if that same intense fire lay hidden inside her, and he relished the idea of finding out.