Quote

Butch didn't live in his own place. He didn't spend his own money. He had no job, no future. He was a well-kept pet, not a man.

J.R. Ward

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

J.R. Ward
Men
Future
Jobs
Money
Didn
Place
Butch
Live
Pet
Wells
Kept
Well
Spend

More quotes by J.R. Ward

Image
Qhuinn looked at each of the hoods again. How ironic, he thought. Nearly two years ago, an Honor Guard of black robes had been sent to him to make sure he knew his family didn't want him. And now, here these males were, come to draw him into a different kind of fold-- that was every bit as strong as that of blood.
J.R. Ward
Image
End of the day, the quick and the dead are the same. Everyone's just looking for home.
J.R. Ward
Image
I'm an angel not a frickin' saint.
J.R. Ward
Image
What was said about him, what the females needed to believe about him, was just oral masturbation for mouths that needed to be otherwise occupied.
J.R. Ward
Image
[...]you know what they say about messengers, right? Excuse me? Too much bad news will get you shot.[...]
J.R. Ward
Image
I cannae believe you let me touch you.” His voice grew hoarse. “I shall remember this for all my nights.” Tears speared into her eyes. Dearest Virgin Scribe, for all her life, she had waited for a moment like this…. “Do not cry.” His thumb went to her cheeks. “Beautiful female of worth, do not cry.
J.R. Ward
Image
He tasted each one of them. The raw power and majesty of Wrath. The vast strength of Rhage. The burning, protective loyalty of Phury. The cold savagery of Zsadist. The sharp cunning of Vishous.
J.R. Ward
Image
Dedicated to: You. There will never be another like you. For me...you are the one. Yeah, I don't have enough words for this.
J.R. Ward
Image
You're the reason I get out of bed every night. And you're the reason I can't wait to come home every dawn. Not the war. Not the Brothers. Not even Butch. It's...you.
J.R. Ward
Image
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
J.R. Ward
Image
This place is just too frickin precious, the cop said, eyeing a guy dressed in a hot pink leisure suit with makeup to match. Give me rednecks and home-grown beer any day of the week over this X-culture bullshit.
J.R. Ward
Image
Nothing that passes between us will ever be wrong. Come back to me.
J.R. Ward
Image
The pair of them were staring at the computer screen like two dogs watching animal planet: very focused, but incapable of turning up the volume or changing the channel. -Manny and Butch
J.R. Ward
Image
This was the gift of recovery, he thought. The ability to be here in this moment with the female he loved and be fully aware, fully awake, fully present. Undiluted.
J.R. Ward
Image
Chaos and love when hand in hand and oh, the glorious grace of the world because of it.
J.R. Ward
Image
Lassiter came in alone, likely because Doc Jane had returned to the Pit. And the angel was naked as a jaybird… and just frickin’ fine. No bullet holes, no scars, no contusions. “You keep looking at me like that and you’d better buy me dinner afterward.
J.R. Ward
Image
When he nodded, the physician disappeared into thin air, and then a moment later, Payne felt a warm palm encompass hers. It was Vishous's un-gloved hand against her own and the connection between them eased her in ways she couldn't name. Verily, she had lost her mother . . . but if she lived through this, she still had family. On this side.
J.R. Ward
Image
Blay said roughly,I'm still in love with him Saxton dropped his eyes and brushed at the top of his thigh, as if there might have been a tiny piece of lint there. I know. You thought you weren't?
J.R. Ward
Image
You're looking at that chick like you want to roll her up in a taco and put your hot sauce all over her.
J.R. Ward
Image
Qhuinn's eyes shifted away from his buddy--and just happened to measure the distance down to the stone patio below. Hmm . . . doing a swan dive onto all that slate might just get the images of those two out of his head... of course, it would also turn his brain into scrambled eggs, but really, was that such a bad thing?
J.R. Ward