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Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistable urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.

J.R. Ward

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J.R. Ward
Price
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There was both love and despair in his voice. He was truly handicapped when it came to emotions, and falling in love hadn't changed that.
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He's into you, isn't he. Answer the question, Marissa. Flyboy with the superhero plasma... he wants you, doesn't he? -Butch and Marissa
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Chaos and love when hand in hand and oh, the glorious grace of the world because of it.
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He cleared his throat and reminded himself that if you pissed Her Holiness off, they'd need barbecue tongs to pick up your steaming pieces.
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Payne nailing him in the face woke him up. George brought him back his independence. But Beth handed him his crown.
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The thread of will-they-or-won't-they was the real driver of every word and glance and shift of body. So...this was a date, Blay thought. A subtextual negotiation slipcovered in talk of books read and music enjoyed.
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To his mind, free will was a privilege, not a right.
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...but her eyes had had too much in them and his heart way too little for things to keep going.
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A hand landed on his shoulder like an anvil. “How’d you like to stay for dinner?” Butch looked up. The guy was wearing a baseball cap and had some kind of marking—was that a tattoo, on his face? “How’d you like to be dinner?” said another one, who looked like some kind of model.
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As always, Blay was the anchor who kept him from being swept away.
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Times have changed and so have heroes and heroines, but the core of what makes readers happy has remained the same: Does the material touch you, resonant with you, stick with you? Do you feel yourself in the pages, see yourself walking in another person's shoes, hear the voices as they speak? Are you in love with the way they are in love?
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I liked you, cop. From the moment I met you. No… not the first moment. I wanted to kill you when I first met you. But then I liked you. A lot.
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When she orgasmed, she said his name. Twice. And didn’t it make him glad that even though he had no voice, his ears worked just fine. –JM
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You would have made a fine warrior, you know that? I am one. Death is my enemy. Yeah, it is, isn't it. God, it made such sense that he'd bonded with her. She was a fighter… like him. Your scalpel's your dagger. Yup.
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You're looking at that chick like you want to roll her up in a taco and put your hot sauce all over her.
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Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.
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V had a passing thought that she used the word anyway like an eraser on a crowded chalkboard. She said it whenever she needed to clear off the things she'd just shared to make room for more.
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She nodded, wondering why couldn't she have been named Mary. Or Sue. Butno , she had to be nine-letter Elizabeth.
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John? As it was dark he whistled a what. You are such a male of worth, you know that. You really are.
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