Motorcycle Club Romance Quotes

Steele knew Breezy wasn't going to be won over easily, but as far as he was concerned, there was no other choice. He 'had' to win her over for his own self-preservation. ~ Christine Feehan

Breezy laughed and the sound went through him the way it often did, lighting his world. She sounded bright and happy and she shed that light on him. She took him right out of the violence, the blood and death and vile world he lived in to draw into the sunshine with her. ~ Christine Feehan

She knew, more than any other reason, it was the way Steele touched her, the way his hands moved over her and the look on his face when he stared down into her eyes that kept her tied to him. He couldn't hide that. ~ Christine Feehan

Steele could be so completely still, it felt like he could disappear. His energy would get so low that you could forget he was in your space. He never missed anything when he was like that. He took in the smallest detail. ~ Christine Feehan

When you love someone it feels like their blood runs through your veins, their breath fills your lungs, their heart makes yours beat, and without them everything stops."
"Fuck. That sounds tragic."
Tell me about it. "It is." I bend to kiss him again, this time on the forehead. "But it's worth it. ~ D.R. Graham

He knew as much as he was deliberately seducing her, she was doing the same for him, although innocently. She wasn't in the least trying and his body was already hers and always would be. ~ Christine Feehan

She drove like fucking Danica Patrick. Jesus. He'd actually been nervous, speeding over winding mountain roads, weaving around slower traffic--which was everyone. He'd been damn glad to see the hotel. ~ Susan Fanetti

She was nothing. She'd thought he was her world, and all the while, he'd been plotting to take down her family's club. She'd loved him. He'd used her and then thrown her away, shattering every dream, every hope she'd ever had. ~ Christine Feehan

It won't work that way. You know me, Bree. You 'know' me. I might have misled things at the club. But I gave you the real man. I don't back away from a fight and I win. ~ Christine Feehan

He stayed right where he was, planted against the door, afraid to move. He'd walked into a room filled with enemies, never flinching, and would do it over and over, but this woman held the power to ruin him. ~ Christine Feehan

Then that fuckin' nose twitched again. And I sank back into my woman... a pair of wolf eyes bringing me home. ~ Tillie Cole

The den of the Devil is no place for the innocent. ~ Darby Briar

She could communicate love with just one caress of her fingers. This touch was natural to her and had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love. ~ Christine Feehan

He needed to know she wanted to be with him. He needed to know someone loved him. He didn't believe himself worthy of love, so he had a difficult time believing she really wanted to be with him. ~ Christine Feehan

She did something to his insides, twisted and melted them until he sometimes felt he couldn't think straight. ~ Christine Feehan

We're not together anymore. Don't forget it.
There is a pause before he responds. Hard to forget that. The gaping hole in my chest that was left when u ripped my heart out kind of reminds me every time I breathe. ~ D.R. Graham

His mouth came down on hers and then he was just possessing her. Taking her over. Leaving her with nothing of herself because she burned up in the fire he generated. ~ Christine Feehan

There it was, that note that told him in a minute the balance of power would shift from him to her, although, truthfully, she always had it. She just didnt know it. ~ Christine Feehan

So ride on, my brothers, and rest in peace. Wherever you are, may you always have the sun on your back, your fists in the wind, and the road stretching out before you ~ Laura Kaye

When life gives you lemons, you flip off the world, make a pitcher of margaritas, and burn your bra. ~ Bink Cummings

We don't want your kind in this city.
Take your pack of animals and go back to where you came from.
Mark my words
if you open this club, it will be the last thing you ever do.
Blood will run. ~ Sara Humphreys

And one day Amber takes her troll's dinner down to the cave and finds him - " Rock waved his hands in vague yet thoroughly descriptive motions " - with another lady troll. So she go home and get her club and come back and beat him to death, thump, thump, thump. 'Cos he was her troll and he done her wrong. Is very romantic song. ~ Terry Pratchett

The way I hold the club, I've got my hand way over, like I'm driving a motorcycle. My Kawasaki grip. ~ Pete Sampras

I said, somewhat confused, "What's the problem?"
[Kristy] rolled her eyes. Beside her, Monica said, "Donneven."
"Kristy." Delia shook her head. "This isn't the time or the place, okay?"
"The time or the place for what?" Caroline asked.
"There is never," Kristy said adamantly, "a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment."
"Throbbing?" my mother said, leaning forward and looking at me. "Who's throbbing?"
"Macy and Wes," Kristy told her.
"We are not," I said indignantly.
"Kristy," Delia said helplessly. "Please God I'm begging you, not now."
"Wait a second, wait a second." Caroline held her hands up. "Kristy. Explain."
"Yes, Kristy," my mother said, but she was looking at me. Not really mad as much as confused. Join the club, I thought. "Explain."
Bert said, "This ought to be good."
Kristy ignored him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Wes wants to be with Macy. And Macy, whether she'll admit it or not, wants to be with Wes. And yet they're not together, which is not only unjust, but really, when you think about it, tragical."
"That's not a word," Bert pointed out.
"It is now," she said. "How else can you explain a situation where Wes, a truly extraordinary boy, would be sent packing in favor of some brainiac loser…"
"Why," I said, feeling embarrassed, "do we have to keep talking about this?"
"Because it's tragical!" Kristy s ~ Sarah Dessen

The thought of asking for help from the gorgeous, troublemaking witch, who also happened to be one of his students and, oh, year, who worked in a fucking strip club to make matters even worse, made the head on his shoulders scream in agony and the one beneath his belt buckle sing in praise.
Shit, this was not going to be good. ~ Kait Ballenger

The truth is, everyone likes to look down on someone. If your favorites are all avant-garde writers who throw in Sanskrit and German, you can look down on everyone. If your favorites are all Oprah Book Club books, you can at least look down on mystery readers. Mystery readers have sci-fi readers. Sci-fi can look down on fantasy. And yes, fantasy readers have their own snobbishness. I'll bet this, though: in a hundred years, people will be writing a lot more dissertations on Harry Potter than on John Updike. Look, Charles Dickens wrote popular fiction. Shakespeare wrote popular fiction - until he wrote his sonnets, desperate to show the literati of his day that he was real artist. Edgar Allan Poe tied himself in knots because no one realized he was a genius. The core of the problem is how we want to define "literature". The Latin root simply means "letters". Those letters are either delivered - they connect with an audience - or they don't. For some, that audience is a few thousand college professors and some critics. For others, its twenty million women desperate for romance in their lives. Those connections happen because the books successfully communicate something real about the human experience. Sure, there are trashy books that do really well, but that's because there are trashy facets of humanity. What people value in their books - and thus what they count as literature - really tells you more about them than it does about the book. ~ Brent Weeks

A word of advice about Ricky ..." Gabriel said as he swung his car from the end of the drive.

"Is it going to cost me?" I waved off his answer. "Whatever you're going to say, save your breath."

"I overheard him offering you a ride on his motorcycle. I don't believe you understand what that entails."

"Grass, gas, or ass. No one rides for free." I looked over at him. "I've seen the T-shirt."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously, Olivia. Do you know what a one-percenter is?"

I sighed. "Yes, Gabriel. It refers to the portion of bikers who belong to a professional motorcycle club. A gang. Ricky is one. As such, I'm going to guess that the only women who get to ride his bike are also riding him. Am I right?"

His mouth tightened as if he didn't appreciate the crass phrasing. "I'm afraid you're under some illusions about Ricky because he does not fit the stereotype."

"Oh, I'm not fooled. He may appear to be the heir to a criminal empire, but he's really an undercover cop, working tirelessly to overthrow his father's evil empire and restore justice and goodness to the land." I glanced over. "Am I close?"

Not even a hint of a smile. ~ Kelley Armstrong

If 'The Wild One' were filmed today, Marlon Brando and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club would all have to wear helmets. I used to be afraid that when (Hells) Angels became movie stars and Cal the hero of the book, the bikerider would perish on the coffee tables of America. But now I think that this attention doesn't have the strength of reality of the people it aspires to know, and that as long as Harley-Davidsons are manufactured other bikeriders will appear, riding unknown and beautiful through Chicago, into the streets of Cicero. ~ Danny Lyon

I'll never recover if he breaks my heart. ~Brooke ~ Katy Evans

Her good eye, though bloodshot and tired, gleamed with mischief. He saw through the bruises adorning her. She was beautiful and conniving.
"Are you asking me to run away with you?" She intertwined her bandaged fingers with his the same way she had at the club. He felt control of the situation transferring into her hands as it had then. ~ Armada West

People will hunt obsessively for months or even years to find the right home to live in. When it comes to love though, they expect their future soulmate to appear out of thin air as they enter the next bar or club they go to. ~ Stewart Stafford

She knew right away she was entering a new world. One she had never witnessed or played a part in, but from first glance she knew her world and definition on sex was about to change - here at Club Pain, sex and erotica were redefined with BDSM. ~ Talon P.S.

Paugh!" the troll scoffed. "Romance. Kissing and folly. Where's the story, where's the philosophy? I'm a troll, and even I can't rip a bodice. You should read real literature. The classics." He held up a book called Ye Olde Clubbe of Fisticuffs. "This is one of my favorites. It's all about, like, rejecting capitalism." He held up another, the spine as yet uncracked, called Alliance of Nincompoops. "Or this one, about a misunderstood genius. You should read it. I'd love to chat about what the true meaning of success is when we're living in a world that values looks instead of substance. ~ Delilah S. Dawson

Soon it was time for us to leave; the clock had struck midnight, and we had miles to go before we slept. After throwing my bouquet and saying good-byes, Marlboro Man and I ran through the doors of the club and climbed into the back of a smoky black limousine--the vehicle that would take us to the big city miles away, where we'd stay before flying to Australia the next day. As we pulled away from the waving, birdseed-throwing crowd at the front door of the club, we immediately settled into each other's arms, melting into a puddle of white silk and black boots and sleepy, unbridled romance.
It was all so new. New dress…new love…a new country--Australia--that neither of us had ever seen. A new life together. A new life for me. New crystal, silver, china. A newly renovated, tiny cowboy house that would be our little house on the prairie when we returned from our honeymoon.
A new husband. My husband. I wanted to repeat it over and over again, wanted to shout it to the heavens. But I couldn't speak. I was busy. Passion had taken over--a beast had been unleashed. Sleep deprived and exhausted from the celebration of the previous week, once inside the sanctity of the limousine, we were utterly powerless to stop it…and we let it fly. It was this same passion that had gotten us through the early stages of our relationship, and, ultimately, through the choice to wave good-bye to any life I'd ever imagined for myself. To become a part of Marlboro Man's life instead. It was this ~ Ree Drummond

Forsaking all other thoughts, he rutted into her, in a fashion more animal than human. His eruption he held fast within, so that she squirmed against the sensation before accepting her own fall into oblivion, her walls pulsing to an echoing rhythm.

from The Gentlemen's Club ~ Emmanuelle De Maupassant

Leaning down, I kissed his cheek, and as I straightened, he turned wide amber eyes on me. "I see what you don't." I ran my hand up and down his arm. "You're not selfish, even if you have moments of acting like it. We all do. You're not evil, even if you were created by the greatest evil of them all. You've proven to me and yourself that you have free will, and you've made the right decisions time and time again."
As I dragged my hand up his arm, he shuddered. "You've accepted who and what I am from the beginning. You've never tried to change me or...or hide me. You've always trusted me, even when you probably shouldn't have." I laughed at that, thinking of the time he'd left me alone in the Palisades club with explicit instructions not to roam off. "You've...you've celebrated what I am, and very few can claim that. Like I've said before, you're more than the latest Crown Prince. You're Roth."
For a moment, he didn't move or blink. Then wonderment filled his expression as he stared up at me, and finally, the tension eased out of his muscles. "And I'm yours. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

A three-way?" Garrett asked. "You're kidding, right?"
"Ménage à trois," Jack said. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."
Britt turned to face them, her hand still on the doorknob. This conversation was starting to get interesting. The two men faced off like snorting bulls, ignoring her.
"We do her one at a time," Garrett said, "and I get her first. When the hell did you do a three-way?" He raised two fingers. "Follow-up question - two girls or two guys?"
Jack raised one finger. "College. Duh." Another finger. "Two girls. It was awesome."
"Well, I'm not doing a two-guy three-way," Garrett said. "No way."
Britt spoke up. "Afraid it'll turn you on?"
"The hell kinda question is that?" Garrett said. "I'm a hundred percent straight."
"Because you didn't seem like a guy who's insecure about his sexuality," she said. "You know, when we met at the club."
"Do not try to play me with that 'insecure' crap," Garrett said. ~ Pam McKenna, Faking It

Cripples are not the stuff of romance. Only Lord Byron, dragging his club foot, springs to mind as an exception to the rule, but such a failing in a man is regarded as interesting, even provocative, rather than disfiguring. Women must submit to a more exacting measure. ~ Mordecai Richler

I read. A lot. I read so much that some might call me a book whore. I can read about a book boyfriend who is a gritty biker in a motorcycle club or a sexy drummer in a world famous band. He can be a military man with a bad case of PTSD or a billionaire with a fetish for bondage and spanking. Any way you slice it, multiple book boyfriends are a hell of a lot safer to my feelings than one living, breathing, idiot who will eventually break my heart. I ~ Jemma Bell

We hit every jazz and blues club on and off Bourbon Street, dancing and drinking until we girls were drunk enough to go with the boys to the strip clubs which outnumbered all other businesses in the French Quarter. Here is where my solution unfolded. ~ Darwun St. James

What really goes on behind the scenes at the Romance Book Club? ~ Michelle Hughes

Something about the floating club reminded him of Wonderland. Not Disney's Wonderland, either, but Wonderland according to Lewis Carroll: dark, sumptuous. Treacherous. It was the sort of place where anything could happen ... and probably did. He had a feeling if a deranged, bloodthirsty monarch suddenly swept in and started demanding people's heads, no one would bat an eye. ~ Laura Oliva

Nooooooooooo!" Screaming the word, Amy and Dan moved as one.
Time slowed down, which, Dan knew from experience, often happened when you were in midair. By the time they leaped onto the hood of Fiske's car (oops, dents), and Dan had ripped off a windshield wiper to use as a weapon (probably not the best idea, but hey, he was improvising), Scarey Harley Dude had turned around.
He strode off in his motorcycle boots, moving swiftly to his bike without seeming to hurry. His helmet back on, sunglasses adjusted, he roared off straight into the road, weaving through the thick traffic like smoke.
Amy's face was squashed against the windshield. Dan held the wiper aloft like a club.
And Evan Tolliver stood on the sidewalk, blinking at them.
Dan waved the windshield wiper at him. "Hey, bro. We didn't want to miss our ride. ~ Jude Watson

Gee, you don't sugarcoat things, do you?"
"At least if I'm at a club, I won't have you pressuring me."
"No, you'll have heaps of strangers instead. ~ Shaye Evans

It made him feel like less of a man. And given how much less of a man he'd felt the past several weeks, that was really saying something. He was surprised someone from the Man Club hadn't come by to revoke his dick and balls. ~ Heidi Betts

I should have a gun."
"And you think I can provide it?"
"Ask your biker gang buddies."
"They prefer the term 'motorcycle club.'"
"I'm sure they do. ~ Kelley Armstrong

It's interesting because when David Fincher was making "Fight Club," he said, "It's a romance." And it really is. Almost everything I ever write is just a romance. And that needed to be sort of pointed up at the end of "Fight Club." The film has a very different ending than the book does. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

In each club we went the dancers had the same moves, none nearly as sensuous as mine on any dance floor, but because they are scantily clad and stripping off the men go nuts and throw money at them. In the largest club and the last we went to I watched one pretty girl with big boobs pull a handful of twenties in one set. I followed her to the ladies-room to learn she only danced a few rounds per night and averaged $250 every night and with my face and body she said I would bank much more. ~ Darwun St. James

For his thirtieth birthday he had filled a whole night-club off Regent Street; people had been queuing on the pavement to get in. The SIM card of his mobile phone in his pocket was overflowing with telephone numbers of all the hundreds of people he had met in the last ten years, and yet the only person he had ever wanted to talk to in all that time was standing now in the very next room. ~ David Nicholls

Only to me ... Why does he take me home every wednesday? Why did he run to me when his club activities ended? Why isn't he using formal language? Why is he talking to me? Why ... The more I think about it, the prouder I get. How does he feel about me? ~ Morishita Suu

He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn't have done anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back. ~ Tessa Dare

He stabbed into her, driving deeply, repeatedly, iron-hard and demanding. She welcomed the piercing pleasure of his urgency, opening her legs wider, pushing her skirts away and wrapping her legs about him. His thrusts pushed her roughly against the table, but she rose to meet each one, clinging to him at the hip, grinding her own need to match his. Her fingers clawed at his buttocks, gripping him to her, pushing herself against him, devouring him.

The Gentlemen's Club ~ Emmanuelle De Maupassant

Is there a club for bitchiness management, like Alcoholics Anonymous? Because, seriously, I think you should visit it. ~ Alexandra Engellmann

Speaking of body decorations, I luuhhhvv your belly piercing!" Heeb said, looking at the gold ring in the center of her slim, tan waist. Despite the artic cold, Angelina had opted for a skin tight, black tube top that ended just above her belly, on the assumption that a warm cab, a winter coat, and a short wait to get into the club was an adequate frosty weather strategy. Heeb was still reverently staring at her belly when Angelina finally caught her breath from laughing.

"Do you really like it? You're just saying that so that you can check out my belly!"

"And what's so bad about that? I mean, didn't you get that belly piercing so that people would check out your belly?"

"No. I just thought it would look cool…Do you have any piercings?"

"Actually, I do," Heeb replied.

"Where?"

"My appendix."

"Huh?"

"I wanted to be the first guy with a pierced organ. And the appendix is a totally useless organ anyway, so I figured why the hell not?"

"That's pretty original," she replied, amused.

"Oh yeah. I've outdone every piercing fanatic out there. The only problem is when I have to go through metal detectors at the airport."

Angelina burst into laughs again, and then managed to say, "Don't you have to take it out occasionally for a cleaning?"

"Nah. I figure I'll just get it removed when my appendix bursts. It'll be a two for one operation, if you know what I m ~ Zack Love

And if this is anyone's fault," she continued. "It's mine for bringing an innocent little girl around a criminal motorcycle club full of self-important assholes who think with their dicks and their guns instead of their brains! ~ Madeline Sheehan

Bryan pressed her closer against him and placed her arms to circle his neck from behind. He moved a little faster and Zahara fell into step, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes to drown out the crowd. She focused on the hard muscles of Bryan's chest, his heated breath against her hair, and his fingers gripping her waist. She absently wondered if it was wrong that an angel was dancing inside of a club full of youth, and if this was as weird and exhilarating for him as it was for her. Bryan spun her around to face him and kissed her. He wasn't as gentle as he usually was, digging his hand into her hair and nibbling on her bottom lip. Zahara whimpered and moved her fingers underneath his shirt, digging her fingers into his back. ~Zahara and Bryan ~ Annabell Cadiz

She made a slow turn as she loosened her ponytail and shook her head; her hair streamed down her back like a glossy black waterfall. She finished her spin. Her focus landed on me, and the air caught in my throat. My Wolf stirred.
Clare.
Her body went rigid; her sultry gaze hardened as she stared at me.
Clare Walker. I'd know those moonlit eyes anywhere.
She ran and grabbed hold of the stage right pole. Her feet left the floor as she wrapped her legs around the brass and spun.
What in god's name is she doing working in a fucking strip club? ~ Elizabeth Morgan

I would rather go swimming with great white sharks than wade in romance 'cause I can never find the courage to ask her to dinner or even to dance. ~ Adam Young (Owl City), The Yacht Club