Inspirational quotes by Tracy Brogan.
Pheromones didn't care about tomorrow. They didn't care about education or employment or age.
Panty Melter: an exceedingly rare species of man blessed with so many desirable attributes he effortlessly gains access into a girl's panties.
Your….your bat cave?” Emily responded.“Yes, I’m quite proud of it. I put those visiting Boy Scouts to good use building bat houses, and now I’ve got dozens of them lining the walls of my tool shed.” She ran a hand down her long, witchy hair. “Bat houses, I mean. Not Boy Scouts. I don’t have any Boy Scouts in my shed.” She looked around, and Ryan couldn’t help but wonder if anyone might indeed be missing a Boy Scout.
Private fireworks are far superior to public fireworks.
We don’t have to tell secrets. We don’t have to talk at all. We could just, you know, kiss . . . and stuff.
Damn, I really want to kiss you.
He turned his head to look at her, trying to think of ways to plead his case. Some way to dazzle and beguile her and make her glad that it was him she was here with. Something witty and persuasive, but she turned at precisely the same moment he did, with invitation in her eyes, and all he could come up with was, “Damn, I really want to kiss you.” Her hesitation was a mere fraction of a second. “Me too,” she whispered. It was all he needed to hear, and in an instant she was in his arms. He kissed her, hard, with no prelude, no artful negotiations or seductive machinations. Just hungry kisses that sent his mind spinning and his body following. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, with one hand on his chest and the other wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth was sweet, as sweet as he’d imagined, with lips so soft he could have fallen over the edge of that lighthouse and thought the sensation was just from her touch.
That place is turning into the Hotel California.You know, you can check in, but you can never leave.
Maybe you should get a very large life insurance policy on the next husband,” Lily suggested slurping her coffee loudly. “You know, before he makes an ash of himself.”“Very funny, but don’t think I haven’t thought of it. It’s an unpredictable way to score more rental properties, but I do seem to be good at burying men.
It’s hard raising parents.
There are no bears on the island.”“Really, are you sure because I was hiking with my Dad and I’m sure I saw one? Either that or it was a humongous man-eating badger, with fangs. It might have been frothing at the mouth.”“Man-eating, huh? No problem then. I’m a girl.
Life had a way of shifting under her feet like quicksand and she had learned to just make the best of it. Like Gigi always said, ‘when God closes a door, he shoves you out the window.
Too bad he was officially the enemy.
Just one more?” he said, holding up his thumb and index finger to indicate tiny. Oh so small. “Just one more little one? I don’t think that was my best work, and what if this is the only time we ever kiss? Then you’ll go on for the rest of your life thinking that’s the best I can do. I don’t think my ego can take that.” He sure as hell hoped this wouldn’t be the only time they ever kissed. In fact, he was going to make damn sure of it, and then some. But for the moment, this angle was going to work for him. He could see her indecision. He leaned closer, his lips nearly touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as he whispered against her mouth, “Just one more.
Her life was more like a series of tattered Post-it notes with hastily scribbled goals written in dull pencil. Some of them stuck. Lots of them didn’t.
I don't want you to go back to Miami already." "You don't? You could have your house all to yourself." Her voice was whisper soft. "I don't want my house all to myself. I like you in it. I like watching the yoga." "You could get cable. They have lots of yoga shows on cable." He moved a little closer, and she stretched her legs out in front of her. "It would be quite the same as watching it live," he said.
All he wanted was a long, hot shower and a long, deep sleep. Meaning that whoever this pissed-off brunette was, whatever deal she'd arranged with his flaky mother, they could talk about it after he'd scrubbed the jungle from his skin and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. "What do you mean it belongs to you? It can't belong to you. I just rented it," said the girl aiming that pink blow-dryer right at his heart. If he wasn't so damn exhausted, he might find that funny. She was holding the thing as if it would protect her. It was a blow-dryer! He nodded at it. "What do you plan to do with that thing, honey? Style me to death?
It's nice to see you. Aimee calls you Bigfoot, by the way." "Bigfoot?" "Yeah, you know, like a mythical creature that people say they've seen in the wild but no one knows for sure if it's real. That's you...
Could be a cold night so I guess I'll start a fire." "A fire? Have you got wood?" A curve played at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, yeah. I got wood." The door slammed before she realized what she'd said.
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