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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

J.R. Ward

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J.R. Ward
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Doesn
Plasma
Butch
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Wants

More quotes by J.R. Ward

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How can something so . . . huge happen so fast?
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So will you meet me?” “Yeah. Sure. Where.” “Montrag’s safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address.
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Mary frowned. A vampire doctor. Talk about exploring your alternative therapies.
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But Tudor mansions on manicured grounds didn't look right with their grand front doors wide open to the night. It was like a debutante flashing her bra thanks to a wardrobe malfunction.
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From one king to another, know that I'm giving you the middle finger right now. And he was, with a smile.
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Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge
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...Bringing the very heavens close enough to touch. It was Zsadist. His eyes closed, his head back, his mouth wide open, he sang. The scarred one, the souless one, had the voice of an angel.
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To be denied was like getting shut out of a Public Park.
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She was seriously staring. Which was what you did when you got a gander at a man who is hung like a Louisville Slugger.
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I suppose this is for the best, Blay said into his shoulder. You can't cook. See? I'm so not Prince Charming.
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Oh… God. What was a male supposed to do in this situation? I'm sorry, he muttered. If I… uh, hurt your feelings or something. She glared at him. I'm not hurt. I'm pissed off and sexually frustrated.
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So what’d you do to the lesser?” a male voice said. “I lit his cigarette with a sawed-off,” another one answered. “He didn’t come down for breakfast, you feel me?
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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.
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I love her so damned much. Manny heard himself say. “That’s my heart right there. That’s my woman”.
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As always, Blay was the anchor who kept him from being swept away.
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Yanking his inner manwhore back to the land of polite conversating, he forced his hands to stop
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The weight of the dead was heavier than the pounds of the body.
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We also mark what's ours. And as I'm not going to see you for twelve hours, I think I'll leave a little more all over you.
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Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.
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I don't read reviews or take any feedback from anyone. Here's the thing: The stories don't even care what I think about them. They don't listen to anybody! My job is simply to describe what I'm shown in my head so that folks who read the books get an idea of what I'm seeing. As long as that happens, I'm doing my job as best I can.
J.R. Ward