I write romance because I love to read romance.
The only problem with one-man woman was that he was not a one-woman man.
I’ve tried and I can’t. The thought of it twists me in a knot.
I want to try with someone who loves me enough to try with me. I want to grow old looking at the same face every morning. I want to grow old looking at the same face every night at the dinner table. I want to be one of those old couples you see still holding hands and laughing after fifty years of marriage. That’s what I want. I want to be someone’s forever.
Chelsea, I knew when you showed up on my porch that you were going to be trouble. You were bossy and annoying and you brought sunshine into a very dark time in my life. You saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving. I love you for that. I will always love you for that.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “Please say you’ll stay in my life and make trouble with me forever.” -Mark Bressler.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked at her through those intense brown eyes she loved. “I wanted you when I thought you’d pull a bag over my head and snuff out my life. I wanted you more than I’ve wanted anything. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. You burst into my life like sunshine and made me see how lonely I was. I don’t want to live that way anymore.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline. “I will love you with my last breath.
I know. I know I’ve been a jerk, and I don’t have a good excuse. But touching you and loving you, and knowing you were planning to leave me, made me crazy. After we made love the second time, I began to think maybe you’d decide to stay with me. I started to think about you and me waking up every day together for the rest of our lives. I even thought about kids and taking some of those breathing classes when you got pregnant. Maybe buying one of those mini-vans.
Exactly what am I supposed to care about? That we were just getting to the fun stuff? That my hand was on your breasts, and your hands were all over my chest, and both of us were having a good time? Damn right I care about that. I wasn’t finished. But don’t expect me to care that a little old lady looked in the window and watched. Why should I care what people are going to say about that? People have talked about me since the day I was born. I stopped caring a long time ago.
I’m more and more positive about this. So I don’t know anything about my husband or life. The point is, I’ve married a good-looking multi-millionaire who loves me and has a huge penthouse and brought me taupe roses. I’m not going to throw it all away just because of the small detail that I can’t remember him.
Men for the most part are a pain in the keister. Vibrators are a girl’s best friend.
The bigger the hair the closer to God” was not just a saying in the northern panhandle, it was like the eleventh commandment: Thou shalt have big hair.
I’m Nathan Parrish and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve laid eyes on in my entire life. And at the risk of sounding like that crappy Partridge Family song, I think I love you.
My daddy told me that Parrish men are susceptible to love at first sight. We’re one-woman men and when we find our woman, we better never let her go or we’ll spend a lot of years kicking ourselves in the ass.
If you’re disappointed, we could always make it true. No one else has to know. Jut you and me and cute beavers.
Keep your pants up, gentlemen,” she said as she moved to stand in the middle of the half-naked players. “I’ll just take a moment of your time, and I’d prefer you not do your synchronized jock-dropping thing.
If that’s what you do to people you love, I can’t imagine what you have in store for people you hate.
I want to feel you up like we’re sixteen in the backseat of a car. On the outside of your clothes,” he said just above a whisper. “Touch you all over, then slide my hands up under your shirt.
I think someone just marked his territory.
She wasn’t his kind of woman, and she didn’t want to fall in love with a man who would break her heart like a Dorito.
She was an expert at running in five-inch heels and considered it an art form.
It’s easy to roam if you have an anchor. – Clive Hollowel.