Quotes About Romance

I told you, you're my black pearl. When i first set eyes on you in the servant's hall I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

Love Poem Sharing one umbrella We have to hold each other Round the waist to keep together. You ask me why I'm smiling — It's because I'm thinking I want it to rain for ever. Vicki Feaver

Everything had become so Twilight only without the sparklies.

Who was Greg and why was he biting Nina? In fact, how did he get close enough to Nina in order to bite her before she bit him first?

Yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't like fistfuls of blondeness with legs longer than a Celine Dion note, now, did it?

Bill Harper was a lucky guy. Bill Harper had got Diane and then he had been killed.

This was the move that was supposed to sweep me away. She seemed a little out of practice. I guess life with Charley Royce hadn't exactly been the third reel of The English Patient. It had to be bad if Mickey Dolan was your back-up. Not to put Mickey down but he didn't strike me as the lover-boy type. Especially when he took out his teeth. The last time Mickey thought about pleasing anybody but himself was just before he discovered how to sniff glue.

VALENTINE'S WORD HUNT Directions: Can you find all ten Valentine's Day words hidden in this messy jumble of letters?

The difference between love and sex is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.

Women can go on marrying and pretending that their boyfriends and husbands are Mr. Darcy or some RomCom dream man. But where's that going to get 'em? Besides divorce court?

It's harder and harder to make a well-done romantic comedy these days because the conventions have been so played out.

He gathered her against him tightly, chest to chest, hip to hip. She wouldn't have minded staying there forever. "I wanted to do this from the moment I saw you sleeping in my bed," he murmured against her mouth. "I just wanted to shoot you," she said the first thing that popped into her dazed mind.

He kissed her dizzy, then lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he kissed his way down her neck. "Make love to me," she whispered. "Like I'm a full-grown woman." He pulled back to look at her. "As opposed to...?

Do you know what the difference is between men and women when it comes to sex?" he asked when he could form thoughts again. "What?" she inquired weakly. "Women want romance, eye contact, tenderness, a true soul-to-soul collection, the earth to shake, sparks to fly." He opened his eyes at last and looked at her beautiful, flushed face. "Men just want to last long enough not to embarrass themselves.

Now how am I supposed to kiss you?" He put himself out there. If she smacked him down, so be it. Instead, the corner of her mouth turned up. "I can be kissed in other places.

I'm through running." "What if I want to chase you around the house naked?" "Maybe." "With handcuffs." "Definitely." "And if I want you to wear your Calamity Jane outfit?

I might be a thriller writer, but I know all about romance." "That's pretty obvious from your love life," the kid sassed back. "Oh, wait. You don't have one.

I'm going to kiss you . . . everywhere. I'm going to kiss you until you swoon with pleasure, until you melt like sugar beneath my lips, until you cry out my name in the throes of passion. I am in love with you, Pirate Queen, whether or not you believe in the notion.

And what, Majesty, did you ask for?" "A noble and gallant sea officer. . . An honorable warrior." Her mouth tightened. "A hero." "Well then, allow me to pretend," he murmured, his fingers inches from those tempting breasts. "But you're a pirate!" "And a good one, too," he added, grinning wolfishly and letting his fingertips slide beneath her shirt.

His gaze was darkening now with something deep and gentle, and Juliet knew, as women throughout time have always known, that he was in love with her. The knowledge both thrilled and scared her.

Do I intimidate you?" "I am not going to answer that." He merely smiled, knowingly, and let his gaze slide heatedly down her throat . . . over her collarbone . . . to her breasts, tingling with fire beneath their bombazine shield. "I mean it, Morninghall." "Really, Lady Simms. Do you think I'm going to leap out of this chair and —" he lifted one wicked eyebrow — "ravish you?

Well?" he said, arching a dark brow. "Well, what?" "I don't bite." "Oh. I was waiting for you to make the first move." "I have. Your gown is conveniently unfastened. Or had you not noticed?

Kindly remove your hand from mine, Lady Simms, or I will not be responsible for what I shall do to you." She only looked at him — and did not let go.

He knelt down before her, and put his fingertips beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she had no choice but to look up at him. "I love you, Maeve," he murmured. "Nothing can change that. I love you, and I would like you to be my wife.