Suzanne Johnson Quotes & Sayings

You have many assets, Drusilla, but apparently a respect for time is not among them." Deep, disapproving voice, French accent, broad shoulders encased in a red linen shirt, long dark hair pulled back into a tail, eyes such a cobalt blue they bordered on navy. And technically speaking, dead. He was as sexy as ever. "Sorry." I slipped my hand — Suzanne Johnson

He pulled out handcuffs and snapped them around my wrists. "Where's your bag? You didn't bring your staff?"
"I have it. It's hidden." Charlie was currently tucked inside the leg of my Harry Potter pajama bottoms, which were beneath my jeans, but that fell under the category of TMI. — Suzanne Johnson

Keeping up with him would require running, and there is no dignity in running after any man for any reason, injured or not. — Suzanne Johnson

There was a bounty on my head, it was four days before Christmas, and I was having turtle gumbo with a merman, an undead pirate king, two loups-garou, and my best friend - a human pregnant with the half-elven child who had unknowingly helped set this whole debacle in motion. Plus a newbie vampire who didn't like the smell of food anymore. — Suzanne Johnson

This is beautiful." Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence. — Suzanne Johnson

When I see you, Jolie, I see a woman who is far more than she realizes but who will someday grow into her powers. One who is much stronger than those who would trap her inside their cages or try to put her to harness. One with a bold intelligence, with whom I can laugh. One who surprises me."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear. "I see a woman who makes me feel alive again, like a man, and not like a wraith who has lived beyond his usefulness in a world that no longer needs him. — Suzanne Johnson

Saturday, September 17, 2005: Today in New Orleans, a traffic light worked. Someone watered flowers. And anyone with the means to get online could have heard Dr. Joy's voice wafting in the dry wind, a sound of grace, comfort and familiarity here in the saddest and loneliest place in the world."
Chris Rose, The Times-Picayune — Suzanne Johnson

Junk food nurtures the spirit. I think there's scientific research to prove it. — Suzanne Johnson

I took a deep breath. The alligators were halfway up to my ass. Might as well let 'em keep climbing. — Suzanne Johnson

I'd pulled my unruly blond hair out of its usual ponytail for the occasion, loaded on some makeup to play up my teal eyes, and poured myself into a little black skirt, short enough to show off my legs while not offending Lafitte's nineteenth-century sensibilities.

It must have worked, because the pirate was giving me that head-to-toe appraisal guys do on instinct, like they're assessing a juicy slab of beef and deciding whether they want it rare, medium, or well-done. "You really are lovely, Drusilla." The timbre of Lafitte's voice shivered down my spine, and I fought the urge to check out the biceps underneath that linen shirt.

Holy crap. This was just wrong. I should not be absorbing his lust. — Suzanne Johnson

I should like to understand more about the signs on the shirt you wore earlier. What was it: Eat the tail and suck the head? — Suzanne Johnson

She shook her head. "I can't believe you got bit and you didn't even get an orgasm out of it. I guess True Blood isn't true after all. — Suzanne Johnson

Then I shall tell you the truthful answers to the questions you asked, about my own intentions and motivations. They are not so simple."...
He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle.
"If I were to avow that you are my immortal life's great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n'est-ce pas? — Suzanne Johnson

An iron? Was he kidding? God — Suzanne Johnson

I hate it when life forces me to be mature. — Suzanne Johnson

I'll do most of the talking," Alex said. "But don't be afraid to ask Melinda Hubert questions-trust your instincts."
My instincts said to stay home and let him handle it. "So, will we play good cop/bad cop? I want to be the bad cop. I'm not the warm. nurturing type."
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"
Jerk. "So what should I do?"
"Stop watching cop shows for one. — Suzanne Johnson

I always hated it when TV reporters stuck a microphone in the faces of people who'd just lost a home or a loved one, wanting to know how they felt. They felt like shit. They hurt, and they didn't know how they were going to get through the night. They wanted to scream and cry and hit the guy with the microphone. — Suzanne Johnson

We walked the length of Jackson Square, stopping to look at the work of a couple of artists who'd set up their sidewalk shops for the day.
"Look." Eugenie stopped in front of an acrylic painting of a mustached man with curly dark hair, hooded eyes, and a big hooked nose. He looked like he'd steal the hubcaps off your grandmother's Cadillac.
"It's Jean Lafitte, our most famous pirate," the artist said. "He was quite a character."
She had no idea. She also had badly missed the mark on his looks. His hair wasn't that curly, he'd been clean-shaven the whole time I'd known him, his nose was straight and in perfect proportion to the rest of his features, and he didn't have hooded black eyes. Still, he might find it entertaining. "How much?" I asked. — Suzanne Johnson

He's violent and unpredictable. He hit you once-hard. Oh, sure he saved your life later but it was in his beat interests. Plus, you have absolutely no common sense where he is concerned, and we won't even mention the dead thing. — Suzanne Johnson

Since when do wizards wear robes?" I whispered. "That's falling into every human stereotype ever created." Jeezum. Next thing you knew, they'd be waving around magic wands.
"The First Elder thought they'd look more intimidating in robes than in business suits," Alex whispered back. "They look like they're on their way to a costume party at Hogwarts. — Suzanne Johnson

He's one sexy dead guy," she whispered as Jean barked orders at Jake and Collette, who'd dallied too long before returning to their transport post....
"That he is, very sexy for a dead guy," I said. "Accent on the word dead. — Suzanne Johnson

One should never giggle in handcuffs unless one were naked. I was sure I'd read that rule somewhere. — Suzanne Johnson

I believe he's been asked to testify today," I told Lennox, who'd continued to track Truman's progress through the room. "He's a member of the historical undead, Truman Capote, the author. He wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood."...
"Hi, Truman, you're sitting next to me," I said, pulling out his chair. I figured after he'd asked me to suck on his cherry, we should be on a first-name basis. — Suzanne Johnson

I was unsure about many things in my life, but I was fairly certain God did not intend bacon to be made from a plant. — Suzanne Johnson

I would say Randolph's a horse's ass, but that would be unfair to the horse. — Suzanne Johnson

We'd all mourn for a while, but at the end of the day we were a tough lot, and we'd survive. — Suzanne Johnson

What I didn't expect to see was Alex, wearing nothing but a tight pair of black boxer briefs and a red velvet bow around his neck. I swear I almost swooned. I definitely drooled.
"Oh my God. I'm scarred for life. I'll never be able to unsee that." Jake slapped his hands over his eyes ... — Suzanne Johnson

I didn't dare put down the staff with Etienne popping in and out like a half-burned, bloodsucking whack-a-mole. — Suzanne Johnson

I narrowed my eyes. Jean stayed awfully well informed about prete politics, and often told me things the Elders hadn't yet learned. I suspected this might be one of those things. "How do you know all this?"
He shrugged. "A wise man watches as if her were un aigle and listens as if here were un faucon."
Eagles and falcons. Both predators. Appropriate. — Suzanne Johnson

I talked to Zrakovi this afternoon," Alex said, giving me an undecipherable look. "He's putting me back on sentinel duty for the next few weeks while you handle a special assignment."
Special assignment had an ominous ring to it.
"What kind of special assignment? And why am I hearing it from you instead of Zrakovi?" Elder Z was my boss, not Alex, however Mr. Bossy liked to think otherwise.
"You're going to be babysitting Jean Lafitte and making sure he doesn't try to take revenge on anyone for what happened last month."
At my horrified, speechless gape, Alex gave me a grim smile and held his glass of port up in salute as my dessert congealed into a lump in my stomach. "Good luck with that, Jolie. — Suzanne Johnson

Suspicion infused Alex's voice. "Okay? That's it?"
I looked back at him and smiled. "That's it. We disagree. It's done. We'll deal with whatever comes next."
He stood up, brows lowered over squinty eyes. "Did Lafitte ply you with brandy, or have the body snatchers been here? — Suzanne Johnson

The fight wasn't over," I said through gritted teeth. "I'd have won it."
Probably.
"Right," he said. "And something just flew past your window. It was oinking. — Suzanne Johnson

Anytime my magic involved fire and didn't destroy something of cause an explosion, I considered it a victory.
My victories have been rare. — Suzanne Johnson

Alex leaned over and treated me to a Rhett Butler kiss, slow and deep but not too sweet. He once told Scarlett something to the effect of how badly she needed kissing, and by someone who knew what he was doing. Alex knew what he was doing. By the time he finished proving it, I was breathless. I rested my head on his shoulder, basking in his warmth and filling my lungs with his scent. "What was that for?"
"That was to show you how glad I am that we got out of that mess in one piece and that we're here together." He extracted his arm from around my shoulders and sat back. "Now let's talk about your crazy stunt."
Damn it, Rhett did that, too. He'd kiss Scarlett silly, then lecture her. — Suzanne Johnson

Jean Laffite was a sexy bad boy with a gentleman's manners and an air of barely suppressed danger. Every girl's secret dreamboat in other words. We always say we want a nice, hardworking, decent guy but we're lying to ourselves. - DJ Jaco — Suzanne Johnson

You're asking for trouble, woman." At the gruff tone of his voice, I raised my head and met his dark, chocolate-brown eyes, rimmed by long lashes that didn't take an ounce away from his masculinity. I wanted to drown in those eyes.
"I like trouble, remember? — Suzanne Johnson

My own tears caught me by surprise, and I turned away before he could see them. Everyone leaves. If I've learned one thing in life that it was that. They might die. They might betray your trust. They might stay until I've got too hard or inconvenient. But in the end, the people you cared about always leave. — Suzanne Johnson

So no, I did not rinse out the damned pickle jar." He flopped on the other bed. "And since I'll be going to hell for breaking into a church and stealing holy water, I'll be sure to mention your name when I get there." He paused. "You're probably on Satan's wish-list anyway. — Suzanne Johnson