Linda Howard Quotes

If you're looking for Mr. Perfect, you‟re going to spend your whole life being disappointed, because he doesn‟t exist. You have to get the best deal you can, but there will always be problems.

I have a real low tolerance for parasites, and you're so close to the limit that I'm already reaching for the flea powder.

A village somewhere was missing it's idiot.

He lifted the arm covering his eyes and turned his head to glare at her. "I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you." "What do you mean, trouble?" She sat up, glaring back at him. "I am not trouble! I'm a very nice person except when I have to deal with jerks!" "You're the worst kind of trouble," he snapped. "You're marrying trouble."

She should have remembered her past experiences in the relationship wars and not let herself get so excited. Evidently her hormones had overruled her common sense and she had become drunk on ovarian wine, the most potent, sanity- destroying substance in the universe.

Sign by elevator put up by computer geeks in office building: REMEMBER: FIRST YOU PILAGE, THEN YOU BURN. THOSE WHO DO NOT COMPLY WILL BE SUSPENDED FROM THE RAIDING TEAM. In Mr Perfect

Women were always complications, bless their perverse little hearts.

God, I love you," he said, and laid his head on her belly, his arms locked around her hips. Madelyn slid her fingers into his hair. "It took you long enough," she said gently. "What I lack in quickness, I make up in staying power." "Meaning?" "That I'll still be telling you that fifty years from now." He paused and turned his head to kiss her stomach.

I’m going to go," he said. "All right." He didn’t move. Then: "I don’t want to." "Do it anyway." He chuckled. "You’re a hard woman, Faith Devlin." "Hardy." "I didn’t know him. He isn’t real to me. Did you love him?" "Yes." But not the way I love you. Never like that.

Pleasure was a siren, luring her to experience more

I'm not holding you against your will; I'm holding you against your car.

But never had he felt more enthralled than he was right now, sitting beside Evie on a weathered old dock, with a blazing afternoon sun, almost brutal in its clarity, bathing everything in pure light. Sweat trickled down his back and chest from the steamy heat, and his entire body pulsed with life. Even his fingertips throbbed. It took all of his formidable self-control to prevent himself from pushing her down on the dock and spreading her legs for his entry.

If death turned out to be a lack of being rather than a lack of consciousness, well, then, that sucked.

Don’t kiss me,” she said warningly. “I don’t intend to,” he replied, smiling a little. “I don’t have my whip and chair with me.

He needed a woman. Bad.

I’m really not hungry,” she repeated, lifting the coffee cup and inhaling the fragrant steam before sipping. “Just a few bites,” he cajoled, taking his own place beside her. “You need to keep up your strength for tonight.” She gave him a heated, slumberous look, remembering her fantasy. “Why? Are you planning something special?” “I suppose I am,” he said consideringly. “It’s special every time we make love.

By morning, she was raw and sore, and knew walking would be an effort. By morning, she could barely remember what it had been like to not know his body, not to have felt him inside her and held him in her arms and absorbed the power of his thrusts as he came. By morning, she was his.

The world was divided into two groups: those who showered at night, and those who showered in the morning.

Do you know why men name their cocks?" "No, why?" she asked, trying to stifle her laughter. "So most of the major decisions in their lives won’t be made by a total stranger.

Sweeney: I can just see all you tough young soldiers cuddling together. Richard: Not cuddling, huddling. There's a difference.

I’m Sam Donovan.” “I know who you are. Mrs. Kulavich told me. I’m Jaine Bright.” “I know. She told me. She even told me how you spell your name.” Now, how on earth had Mrs. Kulavich known that?

He supposed he knew, rationally, that she wasn't the prettiest woman in the world, but if his eyes saw any imperfections, his heart didn't care.

Life's too short to waste it on someone you can't trust. You should be able to depend on the man you love not to lie to you or cheat on you. If you have that as a base, you can work on the other stuff.

Cows are the Devil's handmaidens.

It was just a kiss – " "Yeah, and King Kong was just a monkey.

Hormones were as potent as whiskey, and twice as sneaky.

The bad thing about living in a small town was that everything became a personal issue. The good thing about living in a small town was that everything became a personal issue. During times of trouble, the support system was massive.

Was the period of happiness worth the unhappiness that followed a breakup? Most people seemed to think so, because they got on the love train time and time again.

Well, you've done it now," was her sisterly opening shot. Jaine rubbed between her eyebrows; a definite headache was forming. After the exchange with David, she waited to see where this one was going. "I won't be able to hold up my head in church." "Really? Oh, Shelley, I'm so sorry," Jaine said sweetly. "I didn't realize you have the dreaded Limp Neck disease. When were you diagnosed?

You guys take over while I go put on a shirt." Mrs. Kulavich had edged close enough to hear him. She beamed at him. "Don't bother on my account," she said. "Sadie!" Mr. Kulavich said in rebuke. "Oh, hush, George! I'm old, not dead!" "I'll remind you of that the next time I want to watch the Playboy Channel," he growled.

Okay, let me get a pen." There were rustling noises. "I can't find one." More noises. "Okay,shoot." "You found a pen?" "No, but I have a can of Cheez Whiz. I'll write your number on the counter with it, then find a pen and copy it." Jaine recited her number and listened to the spewing noise as Shelley Cheez-Whizzed it on her countertop.

Are you making fun of my hero complex?' Yeah.

I thought you were a drunk." "A drunk?" "Bloodshot eyes, dirty clothes, getting home in the wee hours of the morning, making a lot of noise, grouchy all the time as if you had a hangover… what else was I to think?" He rubbed his face. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I should have showered, shaved, and dressed in a suit before I came out to tell you that you were making enough noise to raise the dead.

Honey, the only experts in PMS are men. That's why men are so good at fighting wars; they learned Escape and Evade at home.

His mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed the way no man should kiss and still be allowed to run free.

Oh, is that what's in the box? You threw my engagement ring at me?

What are you doing?” she cried in protest. “Playing,” he said, the single word rough, almost guttural.

...We have seven people who knew the skewers were there: the wedding planner, the reception hall manager, the dressmaker, the florist, the veil-maker, the cake-maker, and the caterer. I haven't ruled out the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, either.

I'll tell you what's wrong!" he roared, "I'm trying to quit smoking!" Then he strode angrily to the truck, leaving her standing there. She blinked her eyes, and slowly a smile stretched her lips. She strolled to the truck and got in. "So, are you homicidal or merely as irritable as a wounded buffalo?" "About halfway in between," he said through clenched teeth. "Anything I can do to help?" His eyes were narrow and intense. "It isn't just the cigarettes. Take off your panties and lock your legs around me, and I'll show you.

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Well, at least six or seven, anyway, because a thousand thoughts are a lot. Try counting your own thoughts and see how long it takes you to get to a thousand.

Death isn't peaceful; it is just nothing. Everything is gone. No more sunrises, no more hopes, no more fears. Nothing.