Brows Quotes

Lady Rose, you grow lovelier every time I see you."
Had it been a stranger who spoke she might have been flustered, but since it was Archer, Grey's younger brother, she merely grinned in response and offered her hand. "And your eyesight grows poorer every time you see me, sir."
He bowed over her fingers. "If I am blind it is only by your beauty."
She laughed at that, enjoying the good-natured sparkle in his bright blue eyes. He was so much more easy-natured than Grey, so much more full of life and flirtation. And yet, the family resemblance could not be denied even if Archer's features were a little thinner, a little sharper.
How would Grey feel if she found a replacement for him in his own brother? It was too low, even in jest.
"Careful with your flattery, sir," she warned teasingly. "I am trolling for a husband you know."
Archer's dark brows shot up in mock horror. "Never say!" Then he leaned closer to whisper. "Is my brother actually fool enough to let you get away?"
Rose's heart lurched at the note of seriousness in his voice. When she raised her gaze to his she saw only concern and genuine affection there. "He's packing my bags as we speak."
He laughed then, a deep, rich sound that drew the attention of everyone on the terrace, including his older brother.
"Will you by chance be at the Devane musicale next week, Lord Archer?"
"I will," he remarked, suddenly sober. "As much as it pains me to enter that viper's pit. I'm ac ~ Kathryn Smith

I then had an evil case of word vomit. "I almost hooked up with Aiden."
Caleb's mouth dropped open. It took him a couple of tries to say something coherent. "You do mean you almost hooked him like, say, with a fishing pole or something?"
My brows furrowed at that imagery. "No."
"A right hook to the jaw then? ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Max,' I said, looking up at him, 'I love the Russian heritage you guys are so willing to share, but I'm not so thrilled with the French.'
'What?' His brows lowered. 'We're not French.'
'Great. So the next time you feel the need to kiss me, keep your tongue out of my mouth! ~ Shannon Delany

-His heart is hard.
-She shook her head.
-No? Hermes' brows rose.
-Guarded, yes. But not hard. ~ Sasha Summers

You man that tiller day and night. Won't you rest?'
Ereko lightly laughed the suggestion aside. 'No, lad. I am so old now that sleeping and waking have melded together into one and I know not which I inhabit.'
Watching the lad struggle through that, Ereko shifted course slightly to avoid a looming ice-spire.
'Truly? So old? As old as the mountains?'
Ereko raised his brows. 'Goodness, no. Not that old. Only half so old, I should think. ~ Ian C. Esslemont

I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That-" Lauren choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Nick replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Lauren clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may mrely be some frivolous, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Jim needs me."
"I need you,honey.I've been here since-"
"Don't you dare call me honey!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me honey again," Lauren promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Lauren had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked. ~ Judith McNaught

If trust must be earned, hasn't God unequivocally earned our trust with the bark on the raw wounds, the thorns pressed into the brow, your name on the cracked lips. ~ Ann Voskamp

By the following morning, Anthony was drunk. By afternoon, he was hungover.
His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and his brothers, who had been surprised to discover him
in such a state at
their club, were talking far too loudly.
Anthony put his hands over his ears and groaned.Everyone was talking far too loudly.
"Kate boot you out of the house?" Colin asked, grabbing a walnut from a large pewter dish in the middle
their table and
splitting it open with a viciously loud crack.
Anthony lifted his head just far enough to glare at him.
Benedict watched his brother with raised brows and the vaguest hint of a smirk. "She definitely booted
him out," he said to Colin. "Hand me one of those walnuts, will you?"
Colin tossed one across the table. "Do you want the crackers as well?"
Benedict shook his head and grinned as he held up a fat, leather-bound book. "Much more satisfying to
smash them."
"Don't," Anthony bit out, his hand shooting out to grab the book, "even think about it."
"Ears a bit sensitive this afternoon, are they?"
If Anthony had had a pistol, he would have shot them both, hang the noise.
"If I might offer you a piece of advice?" Colin said, munching on his walnut.
"You might not," Anthony replied. He looked up. Colin was chewing with his mouth open. As this had
been strictly forbidden while growing up in their household, Anthony could only deduce that Colin was
d ~ Julia Quinn

I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures - flattering, but still not lovely - are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty - it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. ~ George Eliot

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face/
I felt giddy all the way back to the hotel.
I giggled.
I was happy.
Sage leaned back in his seat and studied me, an amused smile on his face.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"You're making fun of me," I said.
"I'm not," Sage assured me.
I knew he was telling the truth. His eyes were affectionate. I was his, not just in the past but today and forever, and nothing had ever made me feel more secure.
I was about to pull into the hotel when Sage reminded me of the snacks-the whole reason we'd supposedly gone out. I swung a wild U-turn that slammed Sage against his door.
"Taking up stunt driving?" he asked.
"Can you imagine walking in without the snacks? Rayna would be all over me."
"You don't think she will be anyway? It's been a long snack run."
"It hasn't been that long," I said. "Has it?"
He scrunched his brows. "What are you trying to say?"
I giggled again, and we pulled into a gas station market. Sage wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned against his chest as we walked in step into the store; he held my hand as I cruised the tiny aisles; he stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders as we paid.
I felt normal. I imagined how things would be after everything was over: after we met the dark lady, after we got the Elixir, after we found my dad. Sage and I could travel the world together: me taking pictures, him painting, always coming back toget ~ Hilary Duff

Stop talking like a sailor, Adjutant Stormy,' Nok said. A smile amidst the red, bristling beard. 'Ain't no Adjutant any more, Admiral.' Thin brows rose, and Nok said, 'Title alone gifts the bearer with intelligence?' Stormy nodded. 'That it does, sir. Which is why Gesler's a sergeant and I'm a corporal. We get stupider every year that passes.' 'And ~ Steven Erikson

What I want to know is whether or not I can expect a repetition of it, if I were to agree with what Alexandra wants."
Drowning in angry mortification, Elizabeth nevertheless managed not to flinch or drop her gaze, and although her voice shook slightly, she managed to say calmly and clearly, "I have no control over wagging tongues, your grace. If I had, I would not have been the topic of scandal two years ago. However, I have no desire whatever to reenter your society. I still have scars enough from my last sortie among the Quality." Having deliberately injected a liberal amount of derision into the word "Quality," Elizabeth closed her mouth and braced herself to be verbally filleted by the old woman whose white brows had snapped together over the bridge of her thin nose. An instant later, however, the pale hazel eyes registered something that might have been approval, then they shifted to Alexandra. With a curt nod the dowager said, "I quite agree, Alexandra. She has spirit enough to endure what they will put her through. Amazing, is it not," continued the dowager to Elizabeth with a gruff smile, "that on the one hand we of the ton pride ourselves on our civilized manners, and yet many of us will dine on one another's reputations in preference to the most sumptuous meal." Leaving Elizabeth to sink slowly and dazedly into a chair she'd shot out of but moments before, the dowager then walked over to the sofa and seated herself, her eyes narrowed in thought. "The Willington ~ Judith McNaught

I think reading is sexy." Daemon smiled at himself.
My brows inched up my forehead. "Do you now?"
"Oh, yes, and you know what else I think is sexy?" he leaned forward so his entire face filled the picture and nodded his head toward me. "Bloggers like this. Hot." Rolling my eyes, I smacked his arm. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too. ~ John Keats

And cried for mamma, at every turn'-I added, 'and trembled if a country lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower of rain.-Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to the glass, and I'll let you see what you should wish. Do you mark those two lines between your eyes, and those thick brows, that instead of rising arched, sink in the middle, and that couple of black fiends, so deeply buried, who never open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting under them, like devil's spies? Wish and learn to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where they are not sure of foes-Don't get the expression of a vicious cur that appears to know the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet, hates all the world, as well as the kicker, for what it suffers.'
'In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes, and even forehead,' he replied. 'I do - and that won't help me to them.'
'A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,' I continued, 'if you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and combing, and sulking - tell me whether you don't think yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you, I do. You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows, but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen, each of them ~ Emily Bronte

The Lord is my peace. I shall not live in anxiety. He puts me under His wing of comfort and calms my spirit within me. He takes all my anxieties on Himself and helps me to focus on Him. Yes, though I walk through a time of grave uncertainties and fierce anxieties, I will not fret - for You are my peace. Your Word and Your presence calm me now. You hold my uncertainties in the palm of Your hand. You soothe my anxious mind - You smooth my wrinkled brow. Surely serenity and trust in You shall fill me all the days of my life. And I shall keep my mind stayed on You forever. ~ Linda Dillow

Mallory, I lo - "
"Wait!" This was from Amy, and she looked at Mallory. "I'm sorry, but don't you think you should tell him about the car before he finishes that sentence?"
"No," Mallory said, giving Amy the evil eye. She wanted the rest of Ty's sentence, dammit!
Ty frowned. "What's wrong with the Shelby?"
"Nothing," Mallory said quickly.
"Nothing," Amy agreed. "Except for the dinged door where she parked too close to the mailbox."
"Oh my God," Mallory said to her. "What are you, the car police?"
"The classic car police," Amy said smugly.
"You parked the Shelby on the street?" Ty asked Mallory incredulously.
She went brows-up.
"Okay," he said, lifting his hands. "It's okay. Never mind about the car. ~ Jill Shalvis

Garrett regarded the scene with amazement. "It looks like a Saturday-night market."
"It's to celebrate the new underground London Ironstone line. The railway owner, Tom Severin, is paying out of his own pocket for fairs and concerts across the city."
"Mr. Severin my be taking credit for the celebrations," Garrett said wryly, "but I can assure you, not a shilling of it has come from his own pocket."
Ransom's gaze flashed to her. "You know Severin?"
"I'm acquainted with him," she said. "He's a friend of Mr. Winterborne's."
"But not yours?"
"I would call him a friendly acquaintance." A ripple of delight ran through her as she saw the notch between his brows. Was it possible he was jealous? "Mr. Severin is a schemer," she said. "An opportunist. He contrives everything for his own advantage, even at the expense of his friends."
"A businessman, then," Ransom said flatly.
Garrett laughed. "He certainly is that. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Where on earth did you come from,
baby?"
Frey's brows drew together and he asked softly back, "Pardon?"
My thumb stroked his jaw before I whispered, "My handsome husband is gentle, thoughtful and kind. He laughs and smiles easily and he makes me feel safe. I was with your folks for about five minutes and they were so far from any of that, it is not funny. So," I squeezed his neck, "where did you come from? ~ Kristen Ashley

Why are you delivering my dress?"
"I saw Lirah with it. I asked if I could bring it to you."
"And she let you, of course."
He lifted his brows at her tone. "She was busy. I thought she would be glad for one less thing to do."
"That was kind of you then," Kestrel said, though she heard her voice indicate otherwise and was annoyed with herself.
Slowly, he said, "What do you mean?"
"I mean nothing."
"You asked me to be honest with you. Do you think I have been?"
She remembered his harsh words during the storm. "Yes."
"Can I not ask the same thing of you?"
The answer was no, no slave could ask anything of her. The answer was no, if he wanted her secret thoughts he could try to win them at Bite and Sting. But Kestrel swallowed a sudden flare of nervousness and admitted to herself that she valued his honesty--and her own, when she was around him. There was nothing wrong with speaking the truth. "I think that you are not fair to Lirah."
His brows drew together. "I don't understand."
"It's not fair for you to encourage Lirah when your heart is elsewhere."
He inhaled sharply. Kestrel thought that he might tell her it was no business of hers, for it was not, but then she saw that he wasn't offended, only taken aback. He pulled up a chair in that possessive, natural way of his and sank into it, dropping the dress onto his knees. He studied her. She willed herself not to look away.
"I hadn't thought of Lirah like that. ~ Marie Rutkoski

I love those shorts."
A crinkled formed between her brows. "They're old and ratty." ...
"I like them, but if you don't, I'd be happy to take them off for you." He cocked one brow ... ~ Cat Johnson

That miserable son of a bitch!" he bit out between clenched teeth. "After eleven years he's going to have it his way. And all because I couldn't keep my hands off her."
The vicar could scarcely conceal his joyous relief. "There are worse things than having to marry a wonderful young woman who also had the excellent judgment to fall in love with you," he pointed out.
Ian almost, but not quite, smiled at that. The impulse passed in an instant, however, as reality crushed down on him, infuriating and complicated. "Whatever she felt for me, it was a long time ago. All she wants now is independence."
The vicar's brows shot up, and he chuckled with surprise. "Independence? Really? What an odd notion for a female. I'm sure you'll be able to disabuse her of such fanciful ideas."
"Don't count on it."
"Independence is vastly overrated. Give it to her and she'll hate it," he suggested.
Ian scarcely heard him; the fury at having to capitulate to his grandfather was building inside him again with terrible force. "Damn him!" he said in a murderous underbreath. "I'd have let him rot in hell, and his title with him."
Duncan's smile didn't fade as he said with asperity, "It's possible that it's fear of 'rotting in hell,' as you so picturesquely phrased it, that has made him so desperate to affirm you now as his heir. ~ Judith McNaught

That will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing, - out with it?" "There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask, - Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess," he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane - and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer. ~ Charlotte Bronte

If you want to make a lie believable, you gotta weave it with the truth."
My brows furrow, confused by the comment. "What?"
"Two truths and a lie, babe," he says. "Makes the lie harder to pick up on. ~ Ashley Stoyanoff

Did Brother Thistle train you in the most effective methods of communicating with me?"
His head lifted and his lips curved. "He may have given me some advice."
"And you took it?" My brows rose.
"I'm experimenting with it. If it doesn't work, I'll go back to my tried and true method."
"By which you mean threats and orders."
His smile widened. ~ Elly Blake

The mental powers acquire their full robustness when the cheek loses its ruddy hue, and the limbs their elastic step; and pale thought sits on manly brows, and the watchman, as he walks his rounds, sees the student's lamp burning far into the silent night. ~ Thomas Guthrie

That movie we saw tonight really freaked me out."
Her brows rose incredulously. "I'm a ghost, you're a shape-shifter, you live with a cursed vampire, and a zombie movie freaked you out. Honey, I love you, but that's a bold-faced lie. What gives? ~ Kristen Painter

To see you is to forget my name.
To forget this tight collar
and that delayed train.
To forget the conflict with the landlady
and the worry that my students won't like me.
These trifles lose themselves
in the valleys of your brows
and the seas of your hair.

To see you is to forget my name.
To forget if it matters what I do
and whether what I do matters.
To forget who I think I am
and who I think I ought to become.
To forget every past moment
and unremember
every moment to come.

To see you is to forget my name.
To forget myself
and forget the world.
These trivialities drown themselves
in the dark eyes that stare back at me.
Because to see you is to see
you.
Only you. ~ Kamand Kojouri

Sheer madness is, of course, the highest possible brow in humor. ~ Robert Benchley

Darwin's Bestiary

PROLOGUE


Animals tame and animals feral
prowled the Dark Ages in search of a moral:
the canine was Loyal, the lion was Virile,
rabbits were Potent and gryphons were Sterile.
Sloth, Envy, Gluttony, Pride - every peril
was fleshed into something phantasmic and rural,
while Courage, Devotion, Thrift - every bright laurel
crowned a creature in some mythological mural.


Scientists think there is something immoral
in singular brutes having meat that is plural:
beasts are mere beasts, just as flowers are floral.
Yet between the lines there's an implicit demurral;
the habit stays with us, albeit it's puerile:
when Darwin saw squirrels, he saw more than Squirrel.



1. THE ANT


The ant, Darwin reminded us,
defies all simple-mindedness:
Take nothing (says the ant) on faith,
and never trust a simple truth.
The PR men of bestiaries
eulogized for centuries
this busy little paragon,
nature's proletarian -
but look here, Darwin said: some ants
make slaves of smaller ants, and end
exploiting in their peonages
the sweating brows of their tiny drudges.


Thus the ant speaks out of both
sides of its mealy little mouth:
its example is extolled
to the workers of the world,
but its habits also preach
the virtues of ~ Philip Appleman

Her last stop in the produce section was as the asparagus, which she planned to marinate and grill. She felt eyes on her, and did a double take at Derek holding possibly the world's largest zucchini in his hands with a totally amused grin on his face. He waggled his brows.
Emilie couldn't help but give in to the urge to laugh. "Okay," she said. "I'm all done here."
"Oh, good," Derek said. "Let's go see what fun we can have with the meat. ~ Laura Kaye

Watch it, minx," he warned with a lift of his brow. "If you intend to taunt me for every foolish statement I've made in my life, you'll force me to play Rockton and lock you up in my dark, forbidding manor while I have my wicked way with you."
That sounds perfectly awful,"she said gazing at the man she loved. "How soon can we start? ~ Sabrina Jeffries

After a moment, he shook his head. "Quickly and mercifully is best. Clay? Go out and ask her into the alley."
Clay looked at Jeremy as if he'd just been told to dance the rumba on a public thoroughfare.
I bit back a laugh. "Just walk over to her and point at the alley. Maybe say…I don't know…something like 'fifty bucks.' " I looked at Jeremy. "Does that sound right? Fifty?"
His brows shot up. "Why are you asking me?"
"I wasn't - I just meant, as a general…" I threw up my hands. "How am I supposed to know how much a hooker costs?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
I sighed. "Fine, fifty bucks sounds good. It's not like she knows what the going rate is anyway. Just say
that and nod at the alley. She'll follow."
Clay continued to stare at us in silent horror.
"Oh, for God's sake, you're ready to break her neck but you can't - "
"I'll do it," Jeremy said, then shot a look my way. "Not that I have any more experience soliciting prostitutes than Clay does."
"Never crossed my mind."
A mock glare, then he headed out. ~ Kelley Armstrong

Your mother contained a good spirit. A loving spirit. A spirit that will not cease to exist.
Eva looked at him, her brows furrowed.
Rovender placed his arm around Eva's shoulders. You see, she lives within you now, in all of the lessons that she taught you. Lessons you will never forget. Lessons you will always carry with you ... and will one day pass on. ~ Tony DiTerlizzi

She beckoned her court forward.
Then smiled at Dorian and Chaol, at Yrene and Nesryn and Sartaq and their companions. And beckoned them forward, too.
Brows rising, they approached.
But Aelin, crowned and glowing, only said, "Walk with me." She gestured to the gates behind her. "All of you."
This day did not belong to her alone. Not at all.
And when they all balked, Aelin walked forward. Took Yrene Westfall by the hand to guide her to the front. Then Manon Blackbeak. Elide Lochan. Lysandra. Evangeline. Nesryn Faliq. Borte and Hasar and Ansel of Briarcliff. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Emily's ginger brows were knit tight, the edges of each almost meeting over the bridge of her pert nose. You know I will, you daft baggage. As if we have any other option. ~ Kady Cross

She might come in to bride-bed: and he laughed,
As one that wist not well of wise love's craft,
And bade all bridal things be as she would.
Yet of his gentleness he gat not good;
For clothed and covered with the nuptial dark
Soft like a bride came Brangwain to King Mark,
And to the queen came Tristram; and the night
Fled, and ere danger of detective light
From the king sleeping Brangwain slid away,
And where had lain her handmaid Iseult lay.
And the king waking saw beside his head
That face yet passion-coloured, amorous red
From lips not his, and all that strange hair shed
Across the tissued pillows, fold on fold,
Innumerable, incomparable, all gold,
To fire men's eyes with wonder, and with love
Men's hearts; so shone its flowering crown above
The brows enwound with that imperial wreath,
And framed with fragrant radiance round the face beneath.
And the king marvelled, seeing with sudden start
Her very glory, and said out of his heart;
"What have I done of good for God to bless
That all this he should give me, tress on tress,
All this great wealth and wondrous? Was it this
That in mine arms I had all night to kiss,
And mix with me this beauty? this that seems
More fair than heaven doth in some tired saint's dreams,
Being part of that same heaven? yea, more, for he,
Though loved of God so, yet but seems to see,
But to me sinful such g ~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

I can't believe it's you. Wait, why does my chart say Randy Johnson?"
Reid chuckled at the ridiculous name he used for anonymity.
"It's an alias."
Wanting to erase the pained look from whatever had happened before he arrived, he gave her a wicked smile and added,
"And sometimes a state of being."
Her brows gathered together for the few seconds it took to sink in, then her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes grew wide. "Reid! ~ Gina L. Maxwell

I was wondering where the real party was."
I jumped, sending my pencil in a sharp line across the page. Alex was standing two feet away, one booted foot on my step, hands thrust into the pockets of what looked too much like Emo pants: black and tight.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to surprise you."
"You didn't surprise me," I gasped, left hand plastered to my chest. "You scared the crap out of me. Who raised you? Wolves?"
He actually grinned. "You've met my parents. What do you think?"
I wasn't going to touch that one. I just shrugged.
"Why aren't you inside?" he asked after a few seconds.
"It was too hot," I lied, closing my sketchbook as casually as I could. "Oppressive.Why aren't you?"
"It was too...God, I don't know. Oppressive's a good word. Some fresh air seemed like a good idea."
I looked past him, relieved not to see anyone else there. "All by yourself? That's...bold."
His brows wen up. For a second, I thought he was going to turn around and leave. Instead,he took his hands out of his pockets and pointed at my step. "Big words for a small person. Can I sit down?"
I swallowed. "Sure."
He did, ending up with his elbows resting on his thighs and his right knee not quite touching mine.
The silence went on just long enough to make in uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to help him with his small talk. I'm not very good at it in the best of circumstances. Sitting almost thigh to thigh with a guy who turned m ~ Melissa Jensen

It was an imprudent idea to begin with."
"I shan't argue with you on that point."
Rose scoffed at him. "You don't get to play morally superior with me, Grey. I may have been stupid enough to conspire against you, but you didn't even recognize someone you've known for years! If one of us must be the bigger idiot, I think it must be you!" Oh dear God. She covered her mouth with her hand. What had she just said?
Dark arched brows pulled together tightly over stormy blue eyes. "You're right," he agreed. "I am an idiot, but only because I allowed this ridiculous ruse past the point when I realized your identity."
Rose froze-like a damp leaf on an icy pond. "You knew?" And yet he continued to pretend…oh, he was worse than she by far.
"Of course I knew." He glowered at her. "Blindfold me and I would know the scent of your skin, the exact color and texture of your skin. Do you not realize that I know the color of your eyes right down to the flecks of gold that light their depths?"
Heart pounding, stomach churning in shock, Rose could only stare at him. How could he say such things to her and sound so disgusted? "When?" Her voice was a ragged whisper. "When did you know?"
"I suspected before but tried to deny it. The morning after we last met I took one look at your sweet mouth and knew there couldn't be two women in the world, let alone London with the same delectable bottom lip."
It hurt. Oh, she hadn't thought hearing him say such wonderful t ~ Kathryn Smith

Sylph and Jodi return to my side, each carrying a cloth sack full of chickweed. I wrap my arm around Sylph's waist and give her a quick squeeze. "Lesson's over for today. I have something to discuss with Logan."
"Sounds serious." Jodi wiggles her brows at me.
"I think that's just Rachel for 'I need to go kiss my boy.'" Sylph laughs when I glare at her. ~ C.J. Redwine

Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?"
"Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?"
That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats."
Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh.
"I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre."
I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat.
"I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said.
A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I see guys with, like, eyebrow art, and I wanna tell them, 'You don't have to go too crazy on your brows. Take it easy, man!' ~ Ryan Reynolds

One morning while standing at a café counter staring at the magnificently thick brows of the man making my coffee, I discovered one should not gaze too long at faces unless one is prepared to fall in love again. As I watched the warm air of the coffee machine steam his eyeglasses, as I noticed him squint behind the fog, as he made a flower pattern in the foam of my coffee, I felt overcome with love. Faces have a near-unwatchable intimacy, particularly in a world in which everything perishes in the end. It is difficult to look as we choose, without emotional consequence. ~ Kyo Maclear

She told you something?"
"Yes. You're evil."
His brows shot up. "That's news? ~ Kelley Armstrong

I've always wanted to be a journalist, but what am I going to do? Write articles about which movie star had the fat sucked from her ass and injected into her face? Which professional athlete just confessed to shooting steroids? The last celebrity baby names?" Cara lowered both brows in frustration. "Who cares? ~ Melissa Landers

The One." Mike declared and Merry's brows shot up.
"The One?" Merry asked.
"The One." Mike confirmed.
"In a weekend?" Merry asked.
"In a weekend," Mike confirmed.
"No shit?" Merry whispered.
"Absolutely no fuckin' shit," Mike answered.
Merry whistled. Then he smiled. Then he repeated, "Good for you, man."
"Oh yeah," Mike muttered. ~ Kristen Ashley

I dislike this waistcoat."
He raised his brows. "What's wrong with it?"
"You're still wearing it. ~ Erica Ridley

The cart slowed as they came to a place so dark and quiet that it seemed as if they had entered some remote forest. Peeking beneath the hem of the cart's canvas covering, Garrett saw towering gates covered with ivy, and ghostly sculptures of angels, and solemn figures of men, women, and children with their arms crossed in resignation upon their breasts. Graveyard sculptures. A stab of horror went through her, and she crawled to the front of the cart to where West Ravenel was sitting with the driver.
"Where the devil are you taking us, Mr. Ravenel?"
He glanced at her over his shoulder, his brows raised. "I told you before- a private railway station."
"It looks like a cemetery."
"It's a cemetery station," he admitted. "With a dedicated line that runs funeral trains out to the burial grounds. It also happens to connect to the main lines and branches of the London Ironstone Railroad, owned by our mutual friend Tom Severin."
"You told Mr. Severin about all this? Dear God. Can we trust him?"
West grimaced slightly. "One never wants to be in the position of having to trust Severin," he admitted. "But he's the only one who could obtain clearances for a special train so quickly."
They approached a massive brick and stone building housing a railway platform. A ponderous stone sign adorned the top of the carriage entrance: Silent Gardens. Just below it, the shape of an open book emblazoned with words had been carved in the stone. Ad Meliora. "Toward be ~ Lisa Kleypas

I am very fond of Edith Wharton. She's quite high brow but also a great storyteller. My favorite is 'The House of Mirth.' I also like 'The Reef.' ~ Ken Follett

Shepley walked out of his bedroom pulling a T-shirt over his head. His eyebrows pushed together. "Did they just leave?"

"Yeah," I said absently, rinsing my cereal bowl and dumping Abby's leftover oatmeal in the sink. She'd barely touched it.

"Well, what the hell? Mare didn't even say goodbye."

"You knew she was going to class. Quit being a cry baby."

Shepley pointed to his chest. "I'm the cry baby? Do you remember last night?"

"Shut up."

"That's what I thought." He sat on the couch and slipped on his sneakers. "Did you ask Abby about her birthday?"

"She didn't say much, except that she's not into birthdays."

"So what are we doing?"

"Throwing her a party." Shepley nodded, waiting for me to explain. "I thought we'd surprise her. Invite some of our friends over and have America take her out for a while."

Shepley put on his white ball cap, pulling it down so low over his brows I couldn't see his eyes. "She can manage that. Anything else?"

"How do you feel about a puppy?"

Shepley laughed once. "It's not my birthday, bro."

I walked around the breakfast bar and leaned my hip against the stool. "I know, but she lives in the dorms. She can't have a puppy."

"Keep it here? Seriously? What are we going to do with a dog?"

"I found a Cairn Terrier online. It's perfect."

"A what?"

"Pidge is ~ Jamie McGuire

No matter how slinky your lingerie, a sticker between the brows will always kill the mood. ~ Rosen Trevithick

Have hope. Though clouds environs now, And gladness hides her face in scorn, Put thou the shadow from thy brow - No night but hath its morn. ~ Friedrich Schiller

Something in what Deacon said caused Aiden to string together an atrocity of f-bombs. My brows flew up. Aiden rarely cussed or lost his cool, but boy, he was a grenade whose pin had just been pulled. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

But squeezing her eyes tighter, she concentrated not on her fear but on his expression . . . his eyes . . . his lips . . . his dark brows and the way his dark hair hung over his forehead. She remembered his voice, the words he had spoken to her, and her stomach did that strange flip it often did when she thought about the margrave. Magdalen ~ Melanie Dickerson

Her father sat her down and spoke to her with great seriousness. "You are not a witch, Katerina. There is magic in the world, and some of it is wholesome, and some of it is not, but it is a thing that is in the blood, and it is not in yours.
"The foolish will always treat you badly, because they think you are not beautiful," he said, and she knew this was true. Plain Kate. She was a plain as a stick and thin as a stick and flat as a stick. Her nose was too long and her brows too strong. Her father kissed her twice, once above each brow. "We cannot help what fools think. But understand, it is your skill with a blade that draws this talk. If you want to give up your carving, you have my blessing."
"I will never give it up," she answered. ~ Erin Bow

What is this bluestocking?"
"A woman who fancies herself a member of the intelligentsia." He lowered his voice. "It's against the laws of nature."
Alexsey lifted his brows. "Why are you whispering? Afraid of bluestockings, are you?"
"All smart men are. ~ Karen Hawkins

A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. The fluviatile trees next the shore are the slender eyelashes which fringe it, and the wooded hills and cliffs around are its overhanging brows. ~ Henry David Thoreau

I ain't the captain of the yacht, but I'm on the boat;
I ain't acting what I'm not, knowing that I don't.
You niggaz acting like you will, but I know you won't.
Man, I read between the lines of the eyes of your brows,
Your handshake ain't matchin your smile ... ~ Beanie Sigel

In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? ~ William Shakespeare

You let me kiss you, but you won't let me take you out on a date." He shook his head. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Maybe I need to convince you that you can't live without me."
She raised her brows. "How are you going to do that?"
"I'll show you." He pressed closer as his hands roamed down her body. "But it might take all night. That okay with you?"
"I've got nowhere else to be ... ~ Cat Johnson

I cannot tell what I am as much afraid of, as a woman who invariably washes on Monday. It is a kind of key to character; and if her mouth is not puckered and her brow wrinkled, they will be, unless she repents. ~ Jane Swisshelm

You're back early from Chicago," Jim remarked, seemingly oblivious to his friend's cold reserve. "I wonder why?"
"You know damned well why," Nick retorted grimly.
Jim's brows lifted, but he turned his tawny, appreciative gaze on Lauren. "I'd tell you how gorgeous you look,but at the moment,Nick is already restraining the urge to knock my teeth down my throat.
"Why?" Lauren gasped, her own gaze flying to Nick's granite features.
Jim answered with a chuckle. "It has something to do with two dozen red roses and a kiss he witnessed.He's forgotten about a girl I was in love with once but couldn't quite get up the nerve to ask to marry me. He got tired of waiting for me to bolster my courage, so he sent Ericka two dozen-"
Nick's breath exploded in laughter. "You bastard," he said good-naturedly, and this time his handclasp was sincere. ~ Judith McNaught

Don't cry, my sweet," he entreated. "I cannot bear to see you distressed."
"Then go away," she begged. "Go away and leave me alone."
His brows came together in a troubled frown. "For the life of me, my love, I can't do that."
"Why not?" She faced him with the question.
His gaze dropped and he stared at the floor in thoughtful concentration for a long moment. When he looked at her again, his gaze was direct and unflinching.
"Because I have fallen in love with you."
-Christopher & Erienne ~ Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Sera loaded the new ammunition and held up the gun. "I bet I can hit closer to the bulls-eye than you can."
Her victory came to him on a flash, right down to the cute little dance he was sure was last popular in the nineties. "Sucker bet, sunshine. Never wager with a precog."
"So cheat." She grinned. "You haven't even hear the terms yet. If you win, I'll let you buy me a pretty dress and take me out for a fancy dinner."
"And if I lose?"
"I get a cheap bar, beer, and hot wings, and dirty sex in the bathroom."
Julio cleared his throat, took the gun from her and winked. "Like I said, sucker bet."
"Uh-huh." As she stepped behind him, she trailed her fingers up his arm. "I'm bad news, mister. I hope you can handle me."
"I'll try." He lined up a shot, squeezed the trigger and snorted when the bullet went wide. "I told you I suck at this."
She laughed and retrieved the gun to line up her shot with adorable concentration that furrowed her brows. Her shot wasn't perfect, but it winged the target, and her victory dance was just as cute as it had been in his vision. ~ Moira Rogers

Don't turn around," she said, "but there's a gentleman who keeps stealing glances at you from across the room. I've never seen him before. I wonder if he's your Mr. Ravenel?"
"Good heavens, please don't call him my Mr. Ravenel. What does he look like?"
"Dark-haired, clean-shaven and quite sun-browned. Tall, with shoulders as broad as a plowman's. At the moment he's talking with a group of gentlemen, and- oh, my. He has a smile like a hot summer day."
"That would be Mr. Ravenel," Phoebe muttered.
"Well, I recall Henry describing him as pale and stout." Merritt's brows lifted slightly as she peeked over Phoebe's shoulder once more. "Someone had a growth spurt."
"Looks are irrelevant. It's the inner man that counts."
Laughter threaded through Merritt's voice. "I suppose you're right. But the inner Mr. Ravenel happens to be quite beautifully packaged. ~ Lisa Kleypas

The growl that permeated the room was loud enough to rattle the mirror on the wall next to Qhuinn's head - as well as the silver brush set on the bureau and the crystals on the sconces by the door. At first he was sure it was Phury…except then the Brother's brows came down hard and the male looked over his shoulder.

Layla was out of bed and closing in on the pair of them - and holy fucking shit, the look in her eyes was enough to melt paint off a car door: In spite of the fact that she was not well, her fangs were bared, and her fingers were curled into claws…and the icy draft that preceded her made the back of Qhuinn's neck prickle in warning.

That growl was nothing that should have come out of a male…much less a delicate female of Chosen status.

And if anything, her nasty tone of voice was worse: "Let. Him. Go."

She was looking up at Phury as if she were fully prepared to rip the Brother's arms out of their sockets and beat him with the stumps if he didn't do exactly what she said. Pronto ~ J.R. Ward

The door opens, and I turn my head, my heart thudding at the sight of Griffin. Tall, broad, muscular but sleek, he stalks into the room like a predator, his gait balanced and sure, his glittering, gray eyes focused entirely on me. Inky hair, a hawkish nose, that stubborn jaw, and thick, black stubble make him look hard and intimidating. With his sword strapped on and his dark brows lowered, he's a warlord on the prowl.
I shiver. I couldn't want him more. ~ Amanda Bouchet

We breathe, Lily defends our relationship. My brows rise. Let's not kid ourselves. We struggle with our codependency on a daily basis. ~ Krista Ritchie

When I was 20, I had these furrowed lines between my brows because I was always angry. And I was 20. I don't think that was a mark of age; it was just my personality. ~ Amy Heckerling

You're very lovely, gatita."
Her brows pulled together, and she gave him a skeptical stare.
"Do not look at your master as if he's an idiot. ~ Cherise Sinclair

Oh, for God's sake." Westhaven sounded most displeased. "Evie just switched her glass of wassail for Deene's, and the idiot man didn't even notice." Maggie's brows knit. "Why does that matter?" "Because," St. Just said as Westhaven moved off, "Deene's is spiked with a dose of the loveliest white rum ever to knock a grown man on his arse." Maggie took a little sip of her drink. "So's mine." Val reached over and plucked her glass from her hand. "Then you'd better share, sister dear, or I'm going to go fetch Sindal here myself." *** ~ Grace Burrowes

Why don't you come over here?" Cam said, and I turned to him, brows raised. "You look cold."
I shifted closer, but that apparently wasn't close enough. He tugged the blanket off me and then leaned back Lifting me up, he placed me between his widespred legs. ~ J. Lynn

I furrowed my brows at him. What was so amazing about a stick? I could pick one up outside on the way to the car.
Let me guess, you're Harry Potter and this is the school of Hogwarts. If I say Lumos will it light up? ~ Brandi Salazar

Why books?"
Her brows rose. "I beg your pardon?"
"Why are they your vice?"
She set her plate down and wiped her hand on her skirts before reaching for the top volume on a stack of small, leather bound books nearby and extending it to him. "Go on."
He took it. "Now what?"
"Smell it." He tilted his head. She couldn't help but smile. "Do it."
He lifted it to his nose. Inhaled.
"Not like that," she said. "Really give it a smell."
He raised one brow but did as he was told.
"What do you smell?" Sophie asked.
"Leather and ink?"
She shook her head. "Happiness. That's what books smells like. Happiness. That's why I always wanted to have a book shop. What better life than to trade in happiness? ~ Sarah MacLean

He removed her hand from his cheek to kiss the tips of her fingers. "I get scared, too," he murmured onto her skin. "You want to hear something ridiculous? Whenever I'm scared out of my wits, I tell myself: My name is Sam Cortland ... and I will not be afraid. I've been doing it for years."
It was her turn to raise her brows. "And that actually works?"
He laughed onto her fingers. "Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. But it usually makes me feel better to some degree. Or it just makes me laugh at myself a bit. ~ Sarah J. Maas

He had always liked a good mess - God knows he had sure made a few. In typical form, he squared his shoulders, furrowed his brows and muttered, bring it on. ~ Shelley K. Wall

Okay, do I need to list how often you guys are together?" Jacob raised his brows. "I think it would be safe to assume that you knew about his plans and the size of his cock by now. ~ J. Lynn

He kept grinning. "Told the guys. They're pretty happy about the new shit that's coming." "Of course they are," I returned. "It's a sixty inch TV. A woman is happy with six inches. For a man to get happy, it has to be sixty." He burst out laughing. "Do I speak truth?" I asked. His brows shot up. "You'd be happy with six inches?" "I was happy with less than that for sixteen years so I guess the answer is yes." He kept laughing but started doing it so hard the bed shook. ~ Kristen Ashley

I sold my chastity for a book. If I had only resisted him, would I be here now? "I want you to read to me," he murmured as he turned to the first page. I stared at the Cyrillic script. "I can't. I don't know how." Simple conversational Russian was one thing, but the complex language of Jane Austen was another. "You will learn," he informed me. "I will help you." A small furrow appeared between his brows as he turned his eyes to the text. "It is generally accepted that a rich man should need a wife," he read, butchering the classic first line. I ~ Julia Sykes

Suspicion infused Alex's voice. "Okay? That's it?"
I looked back at him and smiled. "That's it. We disagree. It's done. We'll deal with whatever comes next."
He stood up, brows lowered over squinty eyes. "Did Lafitte ply you with brandy, or have the body snatchers been here? ~ Suzanne Johnson

One thing had always confused Quentin about the magic he read about in books: it never seemed especially hard to do. There were lots of furrowed brows and thick books and long white beards and whatnot, but when it came right down to it, you memorized the incantation - or you just read it off the page, if that was too much trouble - you collected the herbs, waved the wand, rubbed the lamp, mixed the potion, said the words - and just like that the forces of the beyond did your bidding. It was like making salad dressing or driving stick or assembling Ikea furniture - just another skill you could learn. It took some time and effort, but compared to doing calculus, say, or playing the oboe - well, there really was no comparison. Any idiot could do magic. ~ Lev Grossman

Do we have to have one of those woman conversations about it?" She felt her brows go up. "I'm sorry, what's that supposed to mean?" "Oh shit. We do." "Michael. ~ Lauren Gilley

Kestrel, what are you doing?"
She had forgotten what she wore. "Nothing."
He lifted his dark brows.
"It was a dare," she said. "A senator's daughter dared me to sneak out of the palace without an escort."
"Try harder, Kestrel."
She muttered, "I was tired of being closed up inside the palace."
"That I believe. But I doubt it's the whole truth."
Arin's eyes were narrow, inspecting her. His hand slid along the railing as he came close. He reached for the collar of the sailor's coat. He drew it away from her neck.
The world went luscious, and slow, and still.
He bowed his head. Stitches scratched against her cheek. Arin buried his face in the hollow between her neck and the coat collar and breathed in. Warmth flooded her.
Kestrel imagined: his mouth parting against her skin. The teeth of his smile. And she imagined more, she saw what she would do, how she would forget herself, how everything would slip and unloop, like rich ribbon off its spool. The dream of this held her. She couldn't move.
She felt him feel how she didn't move. Arin hesitated. He lifted his head and looked down at her. The blacks of his eyes were huge. ~ Marie Rutkoski

I didn't mean to make you cry-"
"Oh, God ... Zsadist, I love you."
His eyes flared so wide, his brows nearly hit his hairline.
"What ... ?"
"I love you."
"Say that again."
"I love you."
"Again ... please," he whispered. "I need to hear it ... again."
"I love you ... "
His response was to start praying to the Scribe Virgin in the Old Language.
-Lover Awakened ~ J.R. Ward

Chet couldn't wipe away his smile. "I have learned much since we parted ways, and one of those lessons is that a static force, even in mass, can be crushed by a dynamic one."

Wellington's face stiffened. "What kind of foolish talk is that?"

"You will find out. On the Fourth of July, as you sit here in your governor's mansion pandering to your public servants - using them to climb into more power, you will learn what it feels like to have everything you believe in shatter before your very eyes."

Wellington shifted irritably in his seat. "What sort of riddle is that, Chet? You and I have been in this political game our entire lives. You know how it works, and that's not going to change. Ever. One party controls the knobs of politics with one hand, and the other party controls the knobs with the other hand. But they are all one body, members of a political ruling class. That's what we do. This isn't anything new."

Chet pushed his brows over his eyes in a gaze that could melt steel. "You will not be able to stop the ramifications of its impact. This thing I'm about to unleash upon you, I'm doing to you because you are an evil man. I used to be, I'll give you that. But I changed, luckily, before death found me. And I will not let you get away with what you are doing to this country."

Wellington was aghast. "So you're involved with terrorism now, are you? What are you going to do?"

Chet shook his head. "The tru ~ Rich Hoffman

This was a different Sally than Jo had first been presented with: the one with the carefully pencilled lips and brows, the modern Marlene Dietrich. With her make-up on, Sally could pass for being still in her twenties, perhaps only a little older than Jo. At a generous guess, she was about five and a half feet tall - if you counted her customary six-inch heels. But now, without her make-up and stilettos, Sally looked small, thin-lipped, and cynical. Jo decided that she liked this Sally better. ~ Elle Wild

As delightful as Dr. Gibson is, she doesn't have the makings of a farmwife."
Ethan's brows lifted. "Are you thinking about taking a wife?"
West shrugged. "The nights can be long and quiet in the country," he admitted. "If I found a woman who was an interesting companion and attractive enough to bed... yes, I'd consider marrying her." He paused. "Better yet if she were educated. A sense of humor would be icing on the cake. Red hair isn't a requirement, but I do have a fatal weakness for it." West's mouth twisted with a self-mocking grin. "Of course, she'd have to be willing to overlook the fact that I was an undisciplined and obnoxious swill-tub until about three years ago." A nearly imperceptible look of bitterness flashed across his face before he masked it.
"Who is she?" Ethan asked softly.
"No one. An imaginary woman." Averting his gaze, West used the toe of his boot to flick a loose pebble to the side of the drive. "Who happens to despise me," he muttered.
Ethan regarded him with sympathetic amusement. "You might be able to change her opinion."
"Only if I could travel back in time and beat my former self to a pulp. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Ye wanna steer clear o' 'im and 'is little friends. Ye shall come to a nasty end nosin' 'bout that gent."
The Spy knew the refrain. He wondered aloud as to the nature of these little friends.
"Ain't ever seen 'em, just 'eard of 'em. Cripples and deformed ones. Some ain't got no arms or legs is what I 'ear. they crawl along behind 'im, see? Wrigglin' in the dirt all ruddy worm-like."
"He's got an entourage of folk without arms," the Spy said, raising his brows toward the brim of his cocked hat. "Or legs. Following him wherever he goes."
"Some got arms, some don't. Some got legs, some don't. Some got neither. That's what I 'ear." The farmer shrugged, made the sign of warding again, and would say no more on the matter. ~ Laird Barron

We crunched over the gravel in front of my house. It was dark and empty, my dad long gone on his way to Moab and the beckoning Book Cliffs.

"Would you like to come in for a minute? You could check the house for bad guys, and I could make us something yummy to eat. I think I have ice cream in the freezer and I could make us some hot fudge topping to put on top?" I waggled my eyebrows at him in the dim interior of the truck, and he smiled a little.

"Bad guys?"

"Oh you know, I'm here all alone, the house is dark. Just look under the beds and make sure no one is hiding in my closet."

"Are you afraid to be alone at night?" His brows were lowered with concern over his black eyes.

"Nope. I just wanted to give you a reason to come inside."

His expression cleared, and his voice lowered even further. "Aren't you reason enough?"

I felt the heat rise in my face. "Hmmm," was all I said.

"Josie."

"Yes?"

"I would love to come in. ~ Amy Harmon

Oh. I get it." Abby laughed. "This is where you bid on someone to wash your car."

"Naked," Charli said.

"Or check the shower tiles."

"Also naked."

Abby laughed. "I'm guessing that as long as there's wet and naked, we're all good."

Fiona let out a long sigh.

"What was that?" Charli asked with a lift to her perfect brows. "Have you got a victim---I mean a participant in mind?"

Fiona glanced across the hall. "Have you seen Jackson's fireman buddy?"

"No." Charli looked across the room. "Should we?"

"Too late," Fiona said. "I've got first dibs."

At that moment, Abby noticed the Wilder boys walk across the front of the room near the stage. Individually, they were stunning. As a group, they looked as appetizing as a decadent box of chocolates. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from Jackson. Put him in a fireman suit, a tux jacket and jeans, or a simple T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he took her breath away.

Truthfully, she liked him best in noting at all.

"Holy guacamole." Charli gestured to a tall, dark, and devastating man walking with the group. "Is that who you are talking about?"

Fiona nodded. "I want to lick him up one side and down the other like a cherry Popsicle."

"Honey, you bid as high as you can go," Charli said. "And if you run out of money, you just let me know. I'd be happy to chip in. ~ Candis Terry

Behind the tall-backed and elaborately wrought chairs, stand the servants, men and maidens - fifteen in number - discriminately selected, not only with a view to their industry and faithfulness, but with special regard to their personal appearance, their graceful agility and captivating address. Some of these are armed with fans, and are fanning reviving breezes toward the over-heated brows of the alabaster ladies; others watch with eager eye, and with fawn-like step anticipate and supply wants before they are sufficiently formed to be announced by word or sign. ~ Frederick Douglass

His light blue shuma and silver torque did nothing to hide the mass of cuts, scrapes, and purple bruises that covered his body and made his iridescent tattoos practically glow by contrast. He had a dark bruise under one eye that ran all the way down to the ulumi-lia tattoo on his cheekbone, and another on his jaw.

"This?" He gestured to his battered frame. "Ono, moa halea.I was invited to partake in a wrestling match yesterday afternoon."

"A wrestling match with whom? Kukuna the Stone God?"

His grin flashed, then faltered as the gesture tugged at his split lip. "It was a very intense match. And you have been reading the legends of my people. You are curious about Calberna. This is good."

She grimaced. "Don't jump to conclusions. I read most of those legends before I met you so I could teach the children at the school about Calberna." Then, because curiosity got the best of her, she asked, "So which one of Wynter's men beat you to a pulp?"

His brows rose. "I am unpulped."

"Not from where I'm standing. Or are you saying the other fellow looks worse?"

He cocked his head to one side, as if considering, then gave that charming half grin again and said, "About the same. We declared it equal contest."

"Who did you leave unpulped then?"

"It is of no concern. We had our match. We tested each other's skill and resolve, and came away with a new understanding of each other." ~ C.L. Wilson

We should go to Vegas," I announced. "We're on a streak."
His brows drew together. "Babe, not sure you're payin' attention but, shit that's flyin' around us does not say 'winning streak'."
"I've got a naked hot guy bad boy on top of my that proves you wrong. ~ Kristen Ashley

I love you," he whispered, rubbing his
jaw against her temple. "And you love me. I can feel it when you're in my arms." He felt her stiffen slightly
and draw a shaky breath, but she either couldn't or wouldn't speak. She hadn't thrown the words back in his face, however, so Ian continued talking to her, his hand roving over her back. "I can feel it, Elizabeth, but if you don't admit it pretty soon, you're going to drive me out of my mind. I can't work. I can't think. I make decisions and then I change my mind. And," he teased, trying to lighten the mood by using the one topic sure to distract her, "that's nothing to the money I squander whenever I'm under this sort of violent stress. It wasn't just the gowns I bought, or the house on Promenade..."

Still talking to her, he tipped her chin up, glorying in the gentle passion in her eyes, overlooking the doubt in their green depths. "If you don't admit it pretty soon," he teased, "I'll spend us out of house and home." Her delicate brows drew together in blank confusion, and Ian grinned, taking her hand from his chest, the emerald betrothal ring he had bought her unnoticed in his fingers. "When I'm under stress," he emphasized, sliding the magnificent emerald onto her finger, "I buy everything in sight. It took my last ounce of control not to buy one of these in every color. ~ Judith McNaught

I've realized the quirky things that make you different are what make you beautiful ~ Lily Collins

Bram knocked, and Chas opened the door, her music growing louder. She had strips of tinfoil in her hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips–which she immediately hid behind her back when she saw Bram.
"Hiiii!"
Both of Bram's brows flitted upward. "Hi." He looked at the foil. "I'm not even gonna ask."
"Martians are trying to control my thoughts, stupid." She noticed me then and smiled. "Hi, Nora! Ooh…" Her eyes fell to the weapon. "Shiny."
"Nora needs some more appropriate clothes if she's to use the shiny," Bram said.
Chas clapped her hands together. "Makeover!"
Oh, God no.… ~ Lia Habel

I've been blessed with good eyebrows, and I've worked very hard for them. Get a good brow pencil, fill them in a bit, make them perfect, and I guarantee you'll feel better. At least it works for me. ~ Zendaya

Silas talks about San Francisco, so avidly that I think he's trying to fill the air with words before it can be consumed with awkward silences. I don't know why I feel those silences lurking all around us, but every time Silas and I make eye contact, I can sense them there, waiting to slip in and make me blush. I try to avoid his eyes, stealing glances at his arched brows and bow-shaped lips whenever he's looking away. ~ Jackson Pearce

He lifted his brows. "If I really thought it was the absolute best thing for our kids, you'd have had a battle on your hands. That was just a debate."
"With chair-throwing."
"Heated debate. Fights involve chair-breaking. Chair-throwing is just getting your attention. ~ Kelley Armstrong