Romantic Comedy Quotes - Page 2

Coralie Casey was the kind of woman calories were made for; that dewy peaches-and-cream complexion, glossy cherry lips, the succulence of her body beneath that orange, silky dress. A cornucopia of curves, you could say, except it was probably better not to think about horns of plenty.

Christine Stovell

I believe in making my potential models comfortable,’ he explained when she shot a surprised look at him. ‘I’m considerate, unlike some artists who bend their sitters into difficult positions and expect them to stay there for hours. My demands are entirely reasonable.’For a moment, her libido got interested in his demands. What would it be like to listen to the soft caress of his voice as he told her how he wanted her? To have those midnight-blue eyes roam over every inch of her body? To be passive, helpless, whilst he did whatever he pleased?

Christine Stovell

Kitty waved her free hand to show that she was ok, although she was very tempted to stand over one of Adam’s window-washing puddles and pretend her waters had broken just to see what he would do.

Christine Stovell

Outside, the sunlight had turned pale lemon, but the studio remained cool. The white walls and white-tiled splashback behind the sink were made more clinical by the metal tables which looked as if they’d originally been intended for use in an operating theatre. Even though they were laid out with brushes and paints rather than forceps and retractors, the effect was equally daunting; both sets of tools could open you up in strange and unexpected ways.

Christine Stovell

She had offered to drive, not least because it would have given her some control over the evening, but Gethin had raised an eyebrow and told her he liked a more comfortable ride. She assumed it was a reference to her van rather than some frank over-sharing.

Christine Stovell

He’s been a bit grumpy since Potato Day.’She heard Gethin choke back a laugh.‘He set up an all-day workshop on all things potato after reading up about successful winter events at other nurseries,’ she went on, unable to hide her own amusement. ‘It was a terrible failure. Hardly anyone turned up apart from our poet, Wilfie, who wrote a Potat-Ode to celebrate the occasion.

Christine Stovell

[while dancing] The man who was supposed to be her new partner had taken the caller’s final instruction to extremes. From the way Adam’s mouth was locked against Kitty’s he seemed to be anticipating not a temporary split but a lengthy separation. More of a French Fancy than a farmer’s fancy, thought Coralie.

Christine Stovell

The blues are intent and watchful. “You’re trying to get me to change my mind, aren't you?”“Lilah, I constantly hope that you are going to change your mind, but I know you well enough to know that you won’t.” I just nod at him.

This was my love, her love --torn, damaged, broken, ripped apart and put back together. This was our tattered love.

I would praise the Lord above for a ticket to that ride.

My God, Mace was all man, the kind of man every warm-blooded woman would love to take home for the night, tie to her bed and let loose on. Sitting this close to him, my mind conjured up a long list of things I could do, just with my mouth.

Scarlett Garcia fell at the feet of no gloriously delicious man!

What are you thinking?” I ask.“That I wish this was my home, too.” I have nothing to say to this, so I kiss him instead.

She scooted closer and put a hand on his leg again. He felt less like steel this time and more like a man who enjoyed the sensation of a feminine hand moving higher. "Are you taking advantage of me?"He drew in a ragged breath. "I'm trying really hard not to."She smiled and kept going, her hand squeezing as it continued its northward journey. She stopped just short of manhandling him. "Well, that makes one of us.

He shackled her with his hands, the press of his mouth ceaseless in its demands. She couldn't move, couldn't see, could barely breathe. Giving herself over to the fact that this was actually happening, that she wasn't misreading every cue in her stupid life, she ran her hands over the planes of his chest and settled more firmly against him.

Ryan allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sight of her legs, long and muscular and indicative of her previous life as a dancer.Off-limits nannies shouldn't be allowed to have legs like that. A man could only get through so many lonely nights before he started to dream of sleek limbs wrapping around him and never letting go.Thankfully for them both, she lifted those sleek limbs away from his grasp. Out of reach, out of mind.Or at least in theory, anyway.

So, how’d you get the tattoo?” she said.“Drunken frat boys don’t say no to things their drunken frat brothers are telling them to do.”“That almost sounds like an admission of weakness from the invulnerable Andrew Sheffield.”“Not weakness. Stupidity, maybe. That, I’ll cop to.”“I can’t believe the man behind such a successful business is stupid.”“You’d be surprised. Just as there are different kinds of intelligence, there are different kinds of stupid.

The parasail's winch turned, winding up the line, pulling Ally and Serena lower and closer to him in a steady pull. A funny feeling seized him as he watched her. Logically, he knew she kept getting closer, but he suddenly knew she’d never arrive. She’d be suspended out on the end of that line for eternity, seemingly within reach, yet somehow distant. His breath stopped.

You have got to do the shiatsu. I had one back home a month ago. Fantastic.”Marisa Finley frowned under her carrot-ginger-turmeric facial mask.“What’s a shiatsu?” It sounded like an unusual breed of dog."I’m taking my shiatsu to the groomers this week to have it shampooed and blow-dried.And possibly beribboned.

Stop,” he murmured, or at least that’s what he meant to say. It came out sounding more like “Yes,” which probably wasn’t the same thing at all.

She came out of nowhere like a two-by-four against the skull, knocking all common sense out of him and turning him into a walking woody.

Claire, if you don’t move, I will have served two tours of duty only to die in this bed.

Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I’d thought about him in his underwear.Much.He was talking with his friend Nathan. Where Bryce had the whole tan, blond, hazel-eyed thing going on, Nathan was fair with dark hair and dark eyes. They looked like opposite sides of the same coin. A really hot, totally unreachable coin that a collector would keep in a special locked case, which normal girls like myself were not allowed to touch.

In an unexpected move, Bryce reached for my hand and pulled me to his side. “Play along. We’ll straighten this out later.”Good Lord, the school hottie was touching me. It felt like I’d won some sort of geek-girl lottery. And depending on how this played out, Bryce could be the answer to my boyfriend problems. If he wanted me to cover for him, then he needed to help me with my overprotective brothers.

Now give me some advice about how to take full advantage of this city. I’m always looking to improve my odds.”“Just what I’d expect from a horny actuary.”“I’m serious.”Carlos reflected for a moment on the problem at hand. He actually had never needed or tried to take full advantage of the city in order to meet women, but he thought about all of his friends who regularly did. His face lit up as he thought of some helpful advice: “Get into the arts.”“The arts?”“Yeah.”“But I’m not artistic.”“It doesn’t matter. Many women are into the arts. Theater. Painting. Dance. They love that stuff.”“You want me to get into dance? Earthquakes have better rhythm than me…And can you really picture me in those tights?”“Take an art history class. Learn photography. Get involved in a play or an independent film production. Get artsy, Sammy. I’m telling you, the senoritas dig that stuff.”“Really?”“Yeah. You need to sign up for a bunch of artistic activities. But you can’t let on that it’s all just a pretext to meet women. You have to take a real interest in the subject or they’ll quickly sniff out your game.”“I don’t know…It’s all so foreign to me…I don’t know the first thing about being artistic.”“Heeb, this is the time to expand your horizons. And you’re in the perfect city to do it. New York is all about reinventing yourself. Get out of your comfort zones. Become more of a Renaissance man. That’s much more interesting to women.

Zack Love

Speaking of body decorations, I luuhhhvv your belly piercing!” Heeb said, looking at the gold ring in the center of her slim, tan waist. Despite the artic cold, Angelina had opted for a skin tight, black tube top that ended just above her belly, on the assumption that a warm cab, a winter coat, and a short wait to get into the club was an adequate frosty weather strategy. Heeb was still reverently staring at her belly when Angelina finally caught her breath from laughing.“Do you really like it? You’re just saying that so that you can check out my belly!”“And what’s so bad about that? I mean, didn’t you get that belly piercing so that people would check out your belly?”“No. I just thought it would look cool…Do you have any piercings?”“Actually, I do,” Heeb replied.“Where?”“My appendix.”“Huh?”“I wanted to be the first guy with a pierced organ. And the appendix is a totally useless organ anyway, so I figured why the hell not?”“That’s pretty original,” she replied, amused.“Oh yeah. I’ve outdone every piercing fanatic out there. The only problem is when I have to go through metal detectors at the airport.”Angelina burst into laughs again, and then managed to say, “Don’t you have to take it out occasionally for a cleaning?”“Nah. I figure I’ll just get it removed when my appendix bursts. It’ll be a two for one operation, if you know what I mean.

Zack Love

A few moments ago, he'd had her up against a wall, skirt shoved up to her belly button, hands in her panties, his fingers driving her straight to oblivion, and now... now he was this intense, cool, calm, and collected man.tWith a gun.t"Breanne. Are you ok?"tShe stared at him. He had his shirt loose and draped over the bulge of his gun. He looked rough-and-tumble. Baddass.tDamn it, she had a serious weakness for badass.

He was just drifting off when he heard her soft whisper. "Cooper?"t"Still here." Maybe she'd changed her mind about the sheet. The thought made his body twitch. Yeah, she was going to toss that damn thing aside and roll toward him. She'd wrap that hot little bod tight to his, and he'd ---t"Thank you." Breanne said very quietly.tHe blinked. "Thank you? He slid his hand down to cup himself. Still hard. Nope, he hadn't missed anything...

I thank God every day for bringing you into my life. I know I don't deserve you, but I'm a better man because of you.

I was just wondering how long we were going to pretend like we annoyed each other before we started sleeping together.

How my heart missed beating like this. For him. Only for him.

Arrr, shiver me timbers,” he said in an exaggerated pirate twang. He winked his uncovered eye and hooked his thumbs in his pants. “This is the nicest your mom’s been to a poor old bloke like me-self in days.”Sandra poked a finger in his chest, but grinned. “Don’t make me regret it, or you’ll walk the plank.”He grinned back and, with that eye patch, turned knee-meltingly rakish in under ten seconds flat. “Aye, I won’t be asking you to make me Roger jolly, if that’s what has you worrying.

You know, typically a nickname is shorter than the given name.”“Is it?” he asked in mock seriousness. “Oh. Well, tell you what, you can call me…”She waited several beats, thinking of more than a few unkind examples. “I can call you what?” she finally asked.“That’s it.” He shot her his bone-melting smile. “You can just call me. Anytime.”She rolled her eyes, refusing to give in to the smile that threatened. “That sounds like a line from one of your movies.”He shot her a triumphant look. “Ah, ha! I knew you were a fan.

That's when it hit me. I had to go through a lot of bad relationships first, but I'd finally found him. My very own Prince Charming. Turns out they do exist.Touché, Cinderella. Touché.

I am bigger than the box I'm in.

You should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how. -Rhett Bulter, Gone with the Wind” ― Margaret Mitchell

A bear! I've landed on a wild and wicked bear!

He pulled forth and waggled a leash.A leash.To go around her neck.

A pair of great heels was much more satisfying than a man. They lasted longer, and better yet, they didn’t leave me for someone prettier.

Gentlemen do not carry a cane or a hat? No gloves?”“Gentleman may still wear them, but I’m afraid the problem is that there aren’t many left.

...he's just so out-of-this-world. They don't make them like that anymore.

I know this sounds very Neanderthal but I want a man that would just take me, ravage me, and do what he pleases with me. I frankly don’t care what he does or how he does it. I just want it to be fucktastic. I want some bodies slamming, head banging, and wild animalistic beastie craze sex. You Jane, me Tarzan kind of sex.

Dee Dinh

She had platonic all but tattooed on her forehead.

I’ve got more faith in my shotgun than any man, that’s for sure.

Kerrelyn Sparks

How can I be more important than someone else? Isn’t every life important?

Shelley K. Wall

From Chloe's Secret--coming soon“What are you saying?”“I’m saying I want to have a relationship with you. I want to love you.”“Is there a ‘but’ coming next?”“But the funny thing is, when I didn’t want to love you—it happened anyway.”He slipped his arms into my back pockets and hugged the breath out of me. I choked, my eyes stung. “I don’t know what to say.”He smiled. “Say whatever you want to. Just because I said it, you don’t have to.”He was right; I didn’t have to. He wasn’t asking anything of me.

Shelley K. Wall

Her insides began to roar with a ferocious explosion of sensation and entitlement. For a moment, her thinking mind know this was what male and females were put on earth to do.

It’s like I’m suddenly a hormonally charged teenager or living in a bad romance novel: I suddenly can’t stop myself from noticing every man around me. Which means that Darcy, Samantha, and Michael are probably right. Plus, there was that disturbing dream about Voldemort this morning. I need to lose my gay-husband virginity before I lose my mind entirely. I need to find someone to sleep with me. And the fact that I don’t have the faintest idea how to make that happen is just further proof that it needs to.—SINGLE-MINDED

It was Valentine's Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romance movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night. At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all-the-time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer. Then, within the two hour time frame of the movie, the couple meet, fall in love, fall out of love, break up, and then just before the end of the movie, they happen to bump into each other by "coincidence" somewhere absolutely absurd, like by the river. This never happens in real life. The last time I bumped into an ex-boyfriend was at three o'clock in the morning at Rite Aid. I was ringing up Gas-X and corn removers.

Chelsea Handler

We all say and do things we regret, but it’s never to late to change, apologize and become a better person

that kid may not carry my DNA, but by God, I don’t care. I love that little shit like my own and I want to be his daddy.

Heather M. Orgeron

Men know that most women want to have an emotional connection with someone before they sleep with them. Men know that a lot of women think it's romantic to be friends first, and then the friendship blossoms into a relationship. Men know that they have to jump through all these hoops first, before they can get laid. And that's really all romance and courtship is to a man: hoops he has to jump through to get laid.

You know that feeling when you’re suddenly startled out of a deep sleep, and you’re in that hazy middle world where you’re not sure what’s real—like maybe you actually could be chasing after an ice cream truck wearing only fishing waders and a canary yellow bridesmaid’s dress, or you’re just one answer away from winning a year’s supply of adult diapers on a Japanese game show?—SINGLE-MINDED

Those ties...those ties are forever, and I never wanted to be connected to any other person so permanently. Forever was always meant for you and me, Spence.

Heather M. Orgeron

I want the strings. I want the ball and fucking chain. I want to be so tied to you that you can’t ever slip away from me again.

Heather M. Orgeron

The fish is that perfect, amazing guy it can never work out with—you know, a bird and a fish may fall in love—but where would they live? . . . So the fish is your total dream guy, he’s smart, he’s handsome, he gets all your jokes, he loves to talk, he gives you a nine-hour orgasm and then makes you homemade chocolate chip pancakes and serves you breakfast in bed—but he lives all the way across the country and neither of you can move, or he’s married, or next in line for the throne, or he has a terminal disease or something . . . the fish.

He’s so fucking unconventionally perfect. I don’t know whether I want to kick him in the balls or lick his face.

Heather M. Orgeron

I want to rip the rest of those buttons open and climb him like a monkey in a banana tree. Oh God, what I would do with his banana...

Heather M. Orgeron

She’s not ready and maybe she never will be, but I won’t stop trying. I’ll be patient if it kills me. I can just see it now. Cooper Hebert died of blue balls and a broken heart.

Heather M. Orgeron

You’re stupid. First of all, I need for you to know that.” “Uhhh, thanks?” “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. What could possibly be more romantic than the man of your dreams swooping in like a white knight? This is your fucking fairytale, bitch, and you’re about to let it slip away...” Gina growls in frustration. Add a note

Heather M. Orgeron

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