Sandra Brown Quotes

Lauren whirled her head around so quickly that the motion hurt her neck. Jared's hand came up and clamped the hat more firmly over his face. He adjusted his long body to another position, contracting and relaxing muscles that Lauren didn't know existed. But then, she had never seen a masculine physique like this before. His languid movements were repelling and thrilling at the same time. It was like watching some pagan god who was beautiful even in his decadence.

And then he pressed into her. First his thighs, then his middle, his chest, and finally his mouth. She made a whimpering sound, but its definition was unclear even to her, until she realized that her arms had gone around him instinctually, and that she was clutching his back, his shoulders, her hands restless and greedy for the feel of him.
He kissed her openmouthed, using his tongue, and when she kissed back, she felt the hum that vibrated deep inside his chest. It was the kind of hungry sound she hadn't heard in a long time. Masculine and carnal, it thrilled and aroused her.

While we try to find out what happened to her, there's something you should keep in mind."
Jess arched a brow. "Oh?"
"If Hayes Bannock has your wife, you probably top his shit list. Be afraid.

His gut was stitched up good and tight, but that didn't prevent it from flopping. He wiped his damp palms on the legs of his jeans and stood up shakily, leaning heavily on his cane.
He called himself a masochist for putting himself through this torture day after day.
He braced himself for the disappointment of having to go home alone.
He braced himself for happiness like he'd never known in his entire life.
He watched the door they would come through.

I'm sure you could have. Fending off unwanted male attention is a skill every attractive woman must acquire. But you're also a lady who was reluctant to cause a scene.. (Hammond Cross)

He lifted his gaze to the framed photograph of Tanya and him taken on their wedding day. God, she had been lovely. Her smile had come through her eyes straight from her heart. He had known unequivocally that she loved him. He believed to this day that she had died knowing that he loved her. How could she not know? He had dedicated his life to never letting her doubt it.

The intensity of his expression caused her to tentatively ask, "What?"
"I've never been a big fan of the missionary position."
Not quite sure how to respond to that, she said simply, "Oh."
"I preferred making it any other way."
"Why?"
"Because it didn't have anything to do with getting off."
"What didn't?"
"Looking into the woman's face." He murmured the statement as though puzzled by it.
Her throat grew tight. She reached up and stroked his cheek. "You wanted to look into mine?

It takes far less courage to cling to the past than it does to face the future.

He'd wanted to die on the spot, but he had the rotten luck of living through it.

Jared hadn't planned it, had never even thought about it, but he couldn't control taking complete possession of her mouth with a bruising kiss. He wanted to insult her, to further humiliate her, to shatter her damned poise. But her body was so female, her lips so soft, warm, virginal, that what had been hurtful and brutal became tender, seeking, questioning.

If you wanted to kill me, why haven't you smothered me in my sleep?" "No sport in that." She gestured towards the ceiling. "Can I expect to be strung up on that bar and gutted like a deer?" He looked up at the bar and frowned. "Too much sport. Lots of heave-hoeing. Big mess to clean up after. Instead, why don't you just drink the poison-laced whiskey?" He extended the glass toward her again and when she didn't move he said, "No? Okay then." He shot the drink. She might not want the edge taken off but he sure as hell did.

For each book, there's a back story of where the idea came from. Sometimes it's derived from a current event or topic of discussion. Often it begins with a character. And often, I have NO idea what sparked the idea. It's just there.

The F word turns me on, she whispered.
The F word?
Food
He threw back his head and laughed. It rumbled up out of his chest and felt so good it startled him. For the first time in years,his laughter was spontaneous. It wasn`t tinged with bitterness and cynicism.

He won't hurt me. I have a secret weapon.

In the earl days of their marriage he had discussed with her every aspect of his workday. They'd discussed their hopes and dreams in whispers so as not to awaken the children sleeping in the next room.
Over the years, other obligations had pulled at them, sometimes taking precedence over this quiet pillow talks. Nancy missed them and longed for the days when he had valued her opinion above all others. He still did, she was sure; he just didn't ask for it as frequently as he had before his success was assured.

I loved Eddie. You know that, Stan. He'll be enshrined in my heart until I draw my last breath. But he can't be enshrined in my life. I've got to let go and move on. So do you.

Dispensing with the frivolity, he kissed her meaningfully. When at last he pulled away, her troubled expression alarmed him. "What?"
"Be careful, Hammond."
"No one will know I was here."
She shook her head. "Not that."
"Then what?"
"You may have to put me on trial for my life. Please be careful that you don't make me fall in love with you first.

If you loved people, you might hurt them, dissapoint them, anger them, but you never, ever, dishonored them.

What do you want? What are you willing to give up to get it? Writing requires you make sacrifices. Be prepared to work hard to be a writer.

Doubts could cripple the thoughts of a reasonable man

Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hips as his own passion peaked. His face was buried in her neck and her skin felt his rapid, moist breath as he chanted her name.
He didn't leave her. He couldn't forsake the paradise just yet. Nestled within her body, he raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her. Tenderly he kissed each feature of her face.
"Is this possible?" she breathed, referring to the enormity of her rapture.
"Yes, yes," he murmured against her lips.
He raised his head and his eyes searched her face once again. His expression was difficult to define, but it closely resembled love.

When the retching stopped, he assisted her to stand upright and backed her into the car

Can we talk?"
"Fuck off."
"Good. You're willing to cooperate.

"Fuck off."
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He'd been such a solid presence beside her, Strong, warm, vibrant. So different from that form beneath the sheet in the mougue

And the longer she holds out, the more you want it, and the more you want it, the blinder you get. There is a direct correlation, you know, between a stiff dick and blind stupidity.

Doral asked if Coburn's neighbors had been interviewed.
"By me personally," Fred replied. "Everybody in the apartment complex knew him by sight. Women thought he was attractive in that certain kind of way."
"What certain kind of way?"
"Wished they could fuck him, but considered him bad news."
"That's a 'way'?"
"Of course that's a 'way.'

He took a long time to answer. I asked which of her brothers had fathered the baby. She told me it could have been either.

As a virginal preteen, and as a woman who'd taken lovers, she had daydreamed about kissing Denton Carter. While writing her book, specifically the sex scenes between him and Susan, it hadn't been her sister he was kissing, caressing, and taking with adolescent fervor. It had been her. The fantasies had left her aroused, but irritated with herself. Surely her imagination embellished how good lovemaking with him would be.
But now she realized that her daydreams had actually been tepid. His kiss was delicious and darkly erotic. It delivered. It promised more. And the substance of what it promised made her wet, feverish, and needy.

People don't care how smart woman is as long as she's charming and gay and pretty.

Should men and women be equal in all things? Absolutely. But I'm old-fashioned in that I like the differences between the sexes. My male characters are neither Neanderthals nor Prince Charmings. They're flawed.

Rosa wasn't far from wrong. In her naked loveliness, she appeared to be an angel.
But Jared was mortal, and he wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before. He carefully lowered his head and kissed the pulse in her throat. Then his lips traveled with a blissful laziness over her breasts, nibbling and licking lightly so she wouldn't ever know that he had worshiped at this temple of her body. She was forbidden to him. It was a self-imposed denial, but that made it even more binding.

Love was a word that poets and songwriters used. They vested the emotion with tremendous powers over the human heart and mind, but they were wrong. it didn't transform lives like the saccharine lyrics claimed it could.

...He called up the numbness with which he armed himself to get through each day.

If I could have you after every nightmare, I'd have ten a night.

I love being the bad guy, simply because I was always so responsible, so predictable growing up.

I came to write after several mini careers. I did live theatre, managed a cosmetics store and was a local television personality.

But owning the pain, running through it, overcoming it, was a matter of self-will and discipline.

An affair? Jeff?"
"You think it's beyond him?"
"No, I just can't imagine him working up enough emotion or blood flow to get hard.

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I have a healthy respect for gravity. The ground is always there, trying to pull you down. It's the most important thing to keep in mind.

died. But he couldn't take the

Women readers aren`t turned on by nice heroes any more than male readers lust after heroines who are too virtuous.There should be at least a hint,maybe even a promise, of corruptibility.

Put your hands on me. Pretend this means something - Lee Coburn

He gave, took, told her with every stroke what he hadn't been able to convey with words, communicated what he'd felt from the moment he saw her enter the courtroom, and knew, in that instant, that he'd been blessed and doomed in the same heartbeat.

I can't wait to start never seeing you again.

Extraordinary beauty can be a curse to the one who possesses it. one pays a dear price for fame and fortune

He had to admit: She'd got to him. This demure second-grade schoolteacher, who'd been faithful to her husband, but who had fucked him with the same fervor with which she'd fought him two days ago, had crawled under his mean ol' hide.

Nobody speaks smut to my wife and gets away with it.

His entire aspect was menacing, starting with his chilling eyes and the pronounced bone structure of his face. He was tall and lean, but the skin on his arms was stretched over muscles that looked as taut as whipcord. The backs of his hands were bumpy with strong veins. His clothes and hair had snagged natural debris - twigs, sprigs of moss, small leaves. He seemed indifferent to all that, just as he did to the mud caked on his boots and the legs of his jeans. He smelled of the swamp, of sweat, of danger.

Lauren could smell the starch that kept Jared's shirtfront crisp, which blended intoxicatingly with tobacco and champagne. When he spoke in confidential tones to the silly woman, Lauren could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest. The bank director's wife moved away, and still Jared retained his possessive hold on her. His hand trembled slightly as his thumb moved upward and lightly stroked the side of her breast. Or did she only imagine it? Lauren thought she would die from the constriction in her chest that pounded up into her throat and sought release in a small moan.
Another guest walked toward them. Slowly, reluctantly, the strong fingers were withdrawn, leaving behind an imprint on Lauren's skin as scorching as a brand.

Did you find Jesus?

From that she went directly into two minutes

gave a sharp cry of realization just as hands, which she had

He braced himself for happiness like he'd never known in his entire life.

What people aren't looking for, they rarely see.

I've got your back, Doc. You can count on it. I would kill them before I let them touch you.

Ah, but being in love made you mean and crazy. Love made you act like a fool even when you knew you were acting like a fool and couldn't help yourself from acting like a fool.

That all any of us has to give is our best. if we do that. we succeed, no matter what the outcome.

Lucky Tyler: "Yeah, you're here, looking more like the preacher's wife come calling than an overnight alibi. Who's gonna believe I tumbled you?" The devil in him was kicking up his heels, goading him to say things he knew damn well would rub her the wrong way. But he felt he was justified in being ornery. He didn't particularly like her attitude either.
Devon Haines:"What did you expect me to wear? A negligee?"
Lucky Tyler: "I

Fine. He had let her indulge in her hobby, while he'd indulged in his, and right now his was clenching her soft thighs against his pumping hips. He gave one last push and came. He wasn't sure Alice did, but she was better than Emory at faking it.

Don't be afraid of loving this man, Maria had told her. Don't be afraid. Her slender fingers closed around the warm shaft with its velvet skin stretched smooth. Gently her fingers played over him, curious, wondering fingers, fingers made exultant by their discoveries.
Reflexively Jared arched his back. His head went back in a gesture of exquisite feeling. Then his chin lowered and he was searching her face again. His golden eyes shone bright with emotion. "Touch me, Lauren. Touch me until I die from the pleasure of it. Know all of me." His voice was breathy and uneven.

(Honor)"You had told me that if you didn't return within a few minutes of ten o'clock, I was to drive away and get as far from Tambour as possible. So, for all you knew, that's what I had done. After nearly dying in that explosion, with a burn on your shoulder, and your hair singed, you could have run in any given direction in order to get away, but you didn't. When you found me on the railroad tracks, you were racing back to the garage. To me."
He didn't say anything, but his jaw tensed.
She smiled and moved closer to him, aligning her body along his. "You don't have to give me flowers, Coburn. You don't even have to hold me." She laid her head on his chest just below his chin. Her hand curved around his neck. "Let me hold you.

Even knowing the ending was sad, I wouldn't have deprived myself the beauty of the story.

From something as simple as what goes in to a good meatloaf to the not so simple - religion, culture, how you should vote, every damn thing you think or believe, your reactions, your behavior - were partially shaped by who and what your parents were.

In order to win everything, a woman must know to lose.

Beware of women in white who look and move and talk like goddesses. Sooner or later there 'll be hell to pay.

You don't have to give me flowers, Coburn. You don't even have to hold me. Let me hold you. - Honor Gillette

I think of my books now as suspense novels, usually with a love story incorporated. They're absolutely a lot harder to write than romances. They take more plotting and real character development.

You must allow yourself a few small failures and develop a capacity to forgive yourself when you make a mistake.

She kissed his eyebrow. "Not I.

During the opening credits, he said, "We're in the back row. Want to just mess around instead?" She looked across at him, and he grinned. "It's been hours, after all."
"Half that time you've been furious with me."
"Doesn't mean I don't want to jump your bones.

People adjust their behavior to fit the society they live in. They integrate because they have to. But what they are on the inside doesn't change.