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For thousands of nights I dreamed of making love to you. No man on earth has ever hated sunrise as I do.

Lisa Kleypas

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Lisa Kleypas
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: November 5
Author
Novelist
Writer
Temple
Texas
Lisa Kleypas Ellis
Love
Thousands
Sexy
Hated
Making
Night
Earth
Sunrise
Ever
Dreamed
Men
Nights

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Where's your instruction manual? I asked him. What's the baby customer-service number?
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The London season is like one of those Drury Lane melodramas in which marriage is always the ending. And no one ever seems to give any thought as to what happens after. But marriage isn’t the end of the story it’s the beginning. And it demands the efforts of both partners to make a success of it.
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Perhaps only those who had loved and lost could appreciate this magic.
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There were times in life when you had to take a risk that might end in failure. Because otherwise you would be haunted by what you hadn’t done... the paths you hadn’t taken, the things you hadn’t experienced.
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I’ve won his heart, but it’s like owning a house in which most of the doors are permanently locked. He wants to shield me from all unpleasantness. And it’s not really marriage—not like the marriage you have with Cam—until he’s willing to share the worst of himself as well as the best of himself.
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But sometimes normal just isn't happening. Sometimes crazy feels too good to resist.
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Women. You'll interpret anything as love. You see a man wearing an idiotic expression, and you assume he's been struck by Cupid's arrow when in reality, he's digesting a bad turnip.
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These impossible women! How they do get around us!
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The feeling of relinquishing responsibility to someone else, letting him take control, was a relief beyond words.
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Well, I find a strange comfort in the fact that he wouldn't feel this degree of animosity now, had he not loved me so much before.
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Some are nice and some aren't. Some are smart, and others are about as bright as a wet match in a dark cave. In other words, pretty normal.
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I've never wanted to be loved. And God Knows no one's done it yet.
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Ah, there’s the governess voice. All stern and disapproving. It makes me feel like a naughty schoolboy.
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The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk.
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Hardy was every loose-limbed cowboy in warn denim, every pair of blue eyes, every battered pickup, every hot cloudless day. -Liberty
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Some people there's no getting over.
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His kisses tapped into deep mines of memory, and the years that had separated us fell away as if they were nothing.
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So are you bisexual?” I had asked, and Todd had laughed at my insistence on label. “I guess I'm bipossible,” he had said.
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They (mothers-in-law) never leave when they say they will. When my mother-in-law visits, the mice throw themselves at the cat, begging to be eaten.
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That drew a mocking laugh from Lillian. “Really, someone should tell St. Vincent that he’s a living cliché. He has become the embodiment of everything they say about reformed rakes.
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