19 quotes found
“So does it still count if he doesna kiss the bride?”
“If you love no one, no one can hurt you, she whispered.”
“If you love no one, no one can hurt you,” she whispered.”
“Alisons gaze gentled. Tell me, Samantha, have you ever been to Scotland?”
“Alison’s gaze gentled. “Tell me, Samantha, have you ever been to Scotland?”
“Still pleasant as a cornered hedgehog, and as well mannered as a badger, I see.”
“There was something more than a little satisfying about ripping the heart out of someone the moment before they expected to do the same to you.”
“Samantha imagined that in another life, she and Alison could have, indeed, been friends. Had she not been about to rob the train.”
“Yere wet, he groaned. Im underwater. I ken that, bonny. But this dampness has nothing to do with that.”
“Experience should have taught ye by now that denying me what I want only makes me more relentless.”
“The lass was no damsel. Hed prepared himself for a hard sell, one that might require a few extra knee-weakening smiles, perhaps so much as a seduction, but hed never in a million years expected the...”
“Doona fash, Sam. Calybrid, spying her scowl, hurried to balm the wound. Yere plenty fair. Aye, Locryn agreed. With eyes the color of the Alt Dubh Gorm. Sure, that too. Just no one will write odes t...”
“Though her muscles went rigid, her tongue sparred with his, as he might have guessed it would. Each lick and swirl, each plunge and retreat became a point counted for or against. Gavin had never en...”
“This blood feud is a bit too Shakespearean, if ye want the truth. Im no Montague, and yere no Capulet.”
“It occurred to Gavin that the first thought a groom had upon spying his bride shouldnt be to wonder whether or not she wore knickers.”
“Ye’re wet,” he groaned. “I’m underwater.” “I ken that, bonny. But this dampness has nothing to do with that.”
“The lass was no damsel. He’d prepared himself for a hard sell, one that might require a few extra knee-weakening smiles, perhaps so much as a seduction, but he’d never in a million years expected t...”
“Doona fash, Sam.” Calybrid, spying her scowl, hurried to balm the wound. “Ye’re plenty fair.” “Aye,” Locryn agreed. “With eyes the color of the Alt Dubh Gorm.” “Sure, that too.” “Just… no one will ...”
“This blood feud is a bit too Shakespearean, if ye want the truth. I’m no Montague, and ye’re no Capulet.”
