Lauren Layne Quotes

Sorry 'bout that," Pretty Boy says with a crooked grin. I don't know whether he's apologizing for our initial collision or for the humiliating near-miss of an inadvertent motorboat situation.

This was Stiletto magazine, not Dr. Phil. Stiletto was sex and high heels, not companionship and freaking clogs.

Bullshit," he snaps, before lowering his voice and leaning forward. "You're the reason we ... broke up. Shit, were we even dating?"
I lean forward. "I sure as hell thought so when I handed over my V card."
His eyes narrow. "You act like you handed it over easily. Like it didn't take me all goddamn summer to get into your pants.

Watch out for that one, Grace 2.0 whispered. That smile will have you tucking your heart into your panties and handing the whole shebang over before he even buys you a drink.

smiles. "No, I'm saying find someone who you can talk to. Someone who makes you laugh. I think you'll realize that that's what you find attractive.

that's one rather crucial detail we've each learned about the other person. That we'll put their needs first. Always.

after last weekend.

You've got it wrong." His voice was harsh.

"Jackson - "

He cut her off. "No, it's my turn to talk. You've given your speech. And I get it, Mollie, I do. Madison is your sister, and she made you PB&J as a kid when your parents checked out, and that's fine. But open your eyes. You don't owe her anything anymore. You are your own woman, and you are a woman, Mollie. You're not a kid. You're not a girl. And if I've been a complete asshole lately, it's because I'm having a hell of a time coming to grips with the fact that I want you. And fuck, Mollie, I want you. I want you so bad, I'm dying."

Mollie had never made the first move on a man in her life. She was old-fashioned like that. But she made the first move now.

She took a step forward, placed a hand at the back of his head, and pulled his mouth to hers.

Real best friends can generally go more than a couple hours without mentioning each other's name, but Korie found a way to fit Stephen's name into every other sentence. Just friends my ass.

Chemistry is like anything in life. The more you look for it, the harder it is to find.

His eyes were hot and angry as they burned into hers. "I talked to Madison, and that's it. I didn't agree to go on a date; I didn't agree to get back together. In fact, after a certain point in the conversation, I was having a hard time even paying attention to her."

She swallowed.

"Why do you think that is, Mollie?" he asked quietly. "What do you think was distracting me?"

Oh God, why does he have to be so beautiful?

"You, Mollie," he said, pulling her closer. "You were distracting me. You were all I could think about. All I've been thinking about."

Her heart thudded. "Yeah?"

His thumb touched her lip. "You know when you texted me today? Something dumb about whether or not we needed more paper towels? Seeing your name on my cell phone did a hell of a lot more for me than my entire meeting with Madison. Are you hearing me? It was the mere sight of your name that did it for me. That's it, Mollie. Seeing your name undoes me.

I don't know why I keep doing that. Coming back to Chloe. She's annoying as fuck, and yet there's something strangely calming about her manic personality.

That's what we do. We sex things up.

It wasn't fair. Mollie had spent her entire life trying to do the right thing - going out of her way to do what she was supposed to, even when she wanted to do the exact opposite. But tonight her heart had betrayed her. Tonight her heart had done the wrong thing. No, the absolute worst thing.

Tonight, at her sister's wedding, Mollie Carrington had gone and fallen head over heels in love.

With the groom.

I want another chance. With you. And I don't want to just pick up where we left off, I want to start fresh.

Sweetheart, by the time I'm done with you, sleep will be the last thing on your mind. I guarantee it.

I do a squat to demonstrate. Generally I do squats with weight – lots of it – but since the most physical exercise Chloe seems accustomed to is running her mouth. I figure I'd better start at the beginning. The very beginning.
"Okay?" I say, doing another since she didn't mimic my motion the second time.
She watches my movement in the mirror. "One more time," she says.
I comply, and then mutter a string of curses because Chloe Bellamy has just reached out in the middle of a busy gym and patted my ass.
"Very nice," she says, sounding surprised.
"Chloe!"
She shrugs. "You just got so upset when I was ogling that other guy instead of you, so I wanted to make you feel good.

Jackson was a little shocked at just how much her apology meant, and surprised them both by flipping his hand over so that they were palm to palm.

She jolted a little at the contact but didn't pull away. He didn't either.

He told himself it was just a friendly touch - a thank-you for being there. For being Mollie.

But there was nothing friendly about the way touching her made his pulse quicken and his cock harden.

Just what I need. A bubblegum explosion in my life.

I'm wishing that I had a regular family where the mom cooks lasagna and throws bagged salad into a big dented wooden bowl.

As if Mitchell needed another reminder that Julie wasn't the woman for him, fate delivered.
Julie snored.
Not a cute little snuffle either, but snorts worthy of an overweight truck driver named Bubba.

My crush is old enough to have its own driver's licence. As naïve as it sounds, I want to give Devon a chance to see that he's with the wrong sister, because I believe in my heart that he is.
But unlike skeevy Beefcake, I'll never make an actual move.

Real love - the kind that matters - is giving your heart to someone even after he tries to hand it back.

Women don't like secrets, Mulroney. Even the ones that we logically know are necessary. They break our heart.

I don't like games, Georgiana."
"Which is why you need to play them, Andy."
He blinks. "It's Andrew."
"Hmm. How about Drew?"
"No." The word is a growl. "Georgiana."
"Yes, Andy?"
He exhales. "I'm going to kill you."
I can't help the laugh. "See, I don't think so."
"Don't you?"
"Nope," I say, sucking sugar off my thumb. "You don't send flowers to someone you're going to kill.

It's because I fell in love with this incredible girl my freshman year. Only I didn't know how to be in love, so I did the only thing I could to keep her close. I became her friend. I became her best friend, and buried all of my own feelings so deep that I didn't even recognize them, because her feelings were all that mattered, and she wanted this other guy.

And if she'd thought the man was dangerous in a football uniform, he was positively lethal in a tux.

Stephen had a girlfriend named Libby Tittles, or something unfortunate like that, and Korie had this on-again-off-again thing with her junior high boyfriend. But anyone who's ever seen a movie, or watched TV, or just had basic awareness of human interaction saw exactly where Korie and Stephen were heading: Humpville.

The closed door doesn't bother me. But the sound of soft sobbing nearly kills me.

The woman was just so damn vivacious, drawing people to her with every breath. Everyone liked Georgiana. And she'd chosen him. Somehow, this gorgeous, compelling creature seemed to want to spend time with him.

I resign myself to apologizing to the miniature goth monster.

By now I'm done expecting a laugh from this girl, but she suprises me, letting out a little giggle that reminds me of a rainbow escaping from a mud puddle.

You made me whole. You took a wretched, broken soul and showed him how to take his life back.

I pop another piece of donut in my mouth and smile. "It's fine. I won't tell a soul you checked me out."
"I wasn't - " He clears his throat. "Forget it. You're ridiculous."
I'm grinning outright now, because that's two you're ridiculouses this morning, and when he takes to repeating himself, I know I've successfully gotten under his skin.
Georgie, one; Andrew Mulroney, Esquire, zero.

He held me while I cried. And then made love to me so gently I wanted to cry all over again.

You're not fine, Paul," he replies. "You can barely walk. You don't leave this house unless forced to. All you do is read and mope - "
"Brood. I prefer brood. More manly than mope!

She wasn't blindly waiting for some fairy tale; she was just smart enough to believe that she deserved it.

This is a part of post-college life that nobody ever warns you about. Your social life is no longer dropped into your lap by virtue of shared classes and extracurricular activities. Relationships, whether with friends, family, or romantic partners - from here on out, they're going to take a lot more work. No more built-in friends at the sorority, or hollering down the stairs when I need my mom. It's certainly not going to be as easy to meet guys now that I'm done with school. It's not like I can just chat up the cute guy in econ class anymore.

Jackson's presence in New York had everything to do with the other Carrington sister.

He'd been keeping his distance. He'd had to. But today he didn't want to. He wanted to see her. Needed to see her.

He needed Mollie.

No, he was underwear-model, sexiest-man-alive, face-of-the-NFL gorgeous.

She makes me forget to breathe. She makes me forget everything.

The thought of Chloe changing kills me a little. She's one of the most real girls I know, and I'd give anything to have her stay that way, just as she is.

I can't shake the feeling that Parker just told me goodbye. Not goodbye to our friendship, because that will always be there in some capacity. But goodbye to the way we used to be. The way we could have been.

And here's what you don't learn in Film 101…in real life? The meet-cute isn't the least bit cute. It's more like a meet-awkward. Sometimes even a meet-shoot-me-now.

I don't want the guy who wanted the swan. I want the guy who wanted the duckling."
A long moment of silence passes.
Then: "Chloe, I don't know what that means."
She stomps her foot. "Seriously? Do mothers not read nursery rhymes to their sons?

Not at all," I say sweetly. "See, I just watched the way you attempted to juggle multiple girlfriends and failed, and then did the exact opposite."
He glances at me then, a mocking smile on his face. "Oh, sweetheart. When did I ever claim you as my girlfriend?"
I suck in a quick breath, because it's one of the more hurtful things he can say - dismissing that summer as though it were nothing.

You're playing with fire, little girl," he says quietly. "I'm not one of your toys, and I'm not interested in what you're offering."
"I'm not offering anything." I retort, even though his words sting. "I like my men more…refined."
His grin calls my bluff. "You sure about that?

Bow down, peons," Lincoln said. "I'm a king among men." "Where are you coming up with this?" Cole asked him. Lincoln pointed at Jackson. "Um, hello - Jackson Burke knows my name.

Jesus, am I actually checking her out?
Yes. Yes, I am.

Instead of the carefree, find-myself summer I envisioned, I'll be spending the next three months with my own life-sized Ken doll.

Jackson slid a finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged. He didn't care what his tailor said. The damn thing was too tight.

Jackson, you can't just go around asking strange women to move in with you."

"Why not? You need a place to live. I have three extra bedrooms. And you're hardly strange."

"That's true. We're practically family," she muttered.

"Practically. But not." Something in his tone had Mollie's head snapping up.

Something low and a little bit sexy.

They weren't family. They weren't related.

Jackson leaned forward, his gaze strangely intent. "Come on, Mollie. What do you have to lose?"

As she stared at the man she'd once harbored an unhealthy crush on - a crush she was no longer at all sure had dissipated - she realized that the answer to his question was everything.

She had everything to lose.

Of all the possible partners, I get a pit bull puppy.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if he jacks off to an Excel spreadsheet.

I haven't even seen the guy in full light yet and I'm about fifteen seconds away from asking if his offspring would like to take up residence in my uterus.

Olivia hasn't just taught me how to love. She's done something much bigger. She's taught me how to live.
And I don't want to do it without her.

Not exactly the manliest of confessions, but there it is.

This wasn't to say that Julie had perfected only the major, most obvious dating milestones, however. She also knew how to finesse the subtler moments - those key moments where the breath caught and you thought, Yes, this. Julie could explain every single nuance, from the toe-curling euphoria when his hand brushed yours to the tingle when eyes held for just a beat too long. And then there was her personal favorite moment: the bone-deep satisfaction when you made him laugh for the first time - a real laugh.

Michael, listen. I get it. Nobody's ever loved you first. You're tired of being second choice. Or nobody's choice. I get it. Because nobody's ever loved me first, either. But I've been thinking about this, and Michael... I don't think it's about who loves you first. It's about who loves you best. And that's me.

Where's the guy?"
"You can't look now. He's facing this way and it'll be obvious."
"So I'm just supposed to bump into him, spill wine on his shirt, and then make my move?"
Grace glanced at her in approval. "Not bad!"
"Grace, it's horrible! It's the most obvious ploy in the book. I might as well go for the whole 'You look familiar' cliché."
"Oh, come on. Guys don't care how original you are as long as you're hot.

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I mean, why would you want the funny sidekick when you can have the heroine?

You want to know what I remember," he said quietly, his fingers fiddling with his cuffs as he rolled the sleeves up to his elbow, his eyes locked on the view before them.
She nodded.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and dipped his head just slightly, glancing at the floor before lifting it and staring out at the night sky.
"I remember everything.

Jackson hesitated, licking a drop of whisky from his bottom lip with his tongue.

Mollie's stomach tightened a little, but she told herself that it hadn't. It mostly worked - she'd gotten darn good at telling her body that it had absolutely no response to Jackson Burke.

It wasn't a hard kiss, but it wasn't particularly soft either. It was just perfect. The perfect amount of sweet and hot, and...
She put her hands on his chest, shoving him backward. "Please don't mess with me. Please. Just talk to me."
Jackson's eyes shadowed with regret as he slowly released her wrist, lifting a hand to her face. The back of his fingers stroked her cheek softly. "Talk to you?"
She nodded.
"What shall I talk about?" he whispered.
"How about the fact that you're supposed to be in Houston right now? It's the only reason I came over."
"I was in Houston," he said.
"For what, an hour?" she asked.
"Probably about that, yeah." He was watching her mouth as his thumb brushed softly over her lips.
Her breath caught at the tenderness in his touch - in his eyes.
"What happened?"
His eyes flicked up to hers. "You want the full story, or the important part?"
"The important part," she whispered.
"I love you.

You can write about relationships all you want. Get as personal as you want. Your serial dating days are over, Ms. Greene. From here on out, anything related to your personal relationships better be about me.

You hurt me, I want to say. You're my best friend. The one who's supposed to tell me I'd be the best boyfriend in the world and that any girl would be lucky to have me, not the one who laughs outright at the thought that I might need someone to love.

Just that I figure at some point, some guy must have been able to make you smile. And I always wondered if it was the same guy that made you stop.

I think if there was a boarding school for personality makeovers, you'd probably get a scholarship.

But here's the thing about learning from other people's mistakes: you miss out on the chance to make some mistakes on your own. And sometimes you get so busy dodging the potential mistakes that you miss the potential magic.

You miss the one

Ask me what else I remember."
She started to run away, but his hand touched her arm.
"Ask me," he commanded.
Emma shook her head feeling both terrified and the most alive she'd felt in years.
He waited patiently until her eyes met his. "I remember us, Emma.

I've moved before I realize I'm going to, and suddenly Stephanie is in my arms and I'm carrying my fake girlfriend through the Upper West Side as she mutters threats in my ear, and even though my delicate little flower is cursing up a storm, I find myself grinning.

Instead I handed you a broken heart.

Contrary to the delusions in your head, you're not every woman's fantasy."
"I never wanted to be every woman's fantasy. Just yours.

No matter where I look, my walls are crumbling, and this damned girl keeps presenting me with the most dangerous element of all.
Hope.

If I thought Fridays were awesome when I was a full-time student, they're downright euphoric now that I'm part of the regular workforce.

They were quiet a moment longer, both staring at the mermaid and her weird water-spouting nipples. Neither moved.

Mollie knew why she didn't want the moment to end. But why was he still here?

I rub a hand over my face. I'm an ass. A really, really confused ass.

You're not clinging to logic because it's better, you're clinging because it's safer. The problem isn't that your girl's not thinking straight, it's that you're scared.