His And Her Christmas Quotes & Sayings

One of my favorite times of year is around Christmas when my entire family gets together and we make tamales together. It's a full two-day event, and we create an assembly line. It's awesome because everyone has his or her own part in making the dish. It's so much fun. — Sabrina Bryan

If she has her way ...

Willa Davis is wrangling puppies when Keane Winters stalks into her pet shop with frustration in his chocolate-brown eyes and a pink bedazzled cat carrier in his hand. He needs a kitty sitter, stat. But the last thing Willa needs is to rescue a guy who doesn't even remember her ...

He'll get nothing but coal in his stocking.

Saddled with his great-aunt's Feline from Hell, Keane is desperate to leave her in someone else's capable hands. But in spite of the fact that he's sure he's never seen the drop-dead-gorgeous pet shop owner before, she seems to be mad at him ...

Unless he tempers "naughty" with a special kind of nice ...

Willa can't deny that Keane's changed since high school: he's less arrogant, for one thing - but can she trust him not to break her heart again? It's time to throw a coin in the fountain, make a Christmas wish - and let the mistletoe do its work ... — Jill Shalvis

She rolled her eyes. "Then what happened?"
Rubbing his temples, he glanced at the door. "Bethany and I were making out and something happened that never happened before."
Dee leaned back. A look of supreme disgust clouded her pretty face. "Uh, yuck if this is about any kind of premat-"
"Oh my God, shut and listen, okay?" He dragged a hand through his hair. "we were making out, and I lost my hold on my human form. I lit up like a freaking Christmas tree. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

So what's your name?" the stranger asked.
Tarrah pulled his shirt away from her head and held out her hand. "Tarrah. Tarrah Reid."
He slipped his hand into hers, his cheeks stiffening as he held back a smile.
Tarrah sighed, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She was completely aware of the fact that she held the name of a famous Hollywood actress. The association actually helped with her "Christmas floozy" persona during the holidays, so she'd never really minded. — Victoria H. Smith

He invited me to his home for Christmas dinner and his little girl learned a few signs before I got there, and I taught her a few more."
I smiled, thinking of little Claudia.
"She asked me the sign for love and I spelled out your name. — Mia Sheridan

Her problem came in the shape of a man with blue eyes, blond stubble on his jaw, and a body made for indecent positions. — Robin Bielman

I think I fell in love with you that amazing night on the kitchen floor. Or maybe it was the evening you stepped up and set my arm." Testing things, he reached for her hand, and, to his joy, she glared, but she let him take it. "Or maybe the night I knew I loved you was when I kissed you under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve. It's hard to say because I look at you now and it seems to me there's never been a time when I didn't love you. — Maggie Osborne

Louisa rested her head against his shoulder. She inhaled a happy breath and allowed herself to relax and let the connection between them seep into her body. — Debra Holland

He cuddled her back into his arms and sighed, closing his eyes as the flames in the gas logs danced like sugar-plums. Gracie watched them across his broad chest, feeling the happiness like a flame inside her heart. Somewhere she heard Christmas carols being sung and a dog barking in the distance. Closer, she heard the strong, regular beat of Jason's heart under her ear. Christmas wasn't only in her heart. It was in her arms. — Diana Palmer

He ducked down under the wooden slats used to separate the stalls in the barn and crawled into the adjacent stall where he began rubbing the belly of the chestnut mare.
"Lay down, Lady. Please ... it's awful cold tonight. Please lay down."
The mare complied as she always did to the soothing tone in his voice. Drawing the blanket up tightly around him, he lay down beside the horse, moving in close to her side. He was careful to place his frozen feet near enough to her for warmth, but not so near that she'd protest.
"They had a real purty tree, Lady, with candles. Bet it didn't look as purty from the inside, though. Weren't no snow on the inside."
He snuggled in closer to the warm beast. "Merry Christmas, Lady," he whispered.
The mare nickered and moved her head in closer to the boy as he drifted off to sleep, the scent of hay and livestock surrounding them. — Lorraine Heath

Why is he following me? Why are you following me?" He grabbed her arm. "D'Sayre is trying to learn your secrets. Me? I just want a kiss." He pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips to hers. — Laurel O'Donnell

She pulled her arm free from his grasp and stood back, her arms crossed. "So, what then? You're holding me hostage? Are you even really a sheriff?"
"I am," he said, highly amused at her attempt at bravado. "You wanna see my badge? — Roxanne Snopek

Christmas," said Robin, with a faint grin but without apology. "I was going to put it up yesterday, but after Leonora was charged I didn't feel very festive. Anyway, I've got you an appointment to see her at six. You'll need to take photo ID - " "Good work, thanks." " - and I got you sandwiches and I thought you might like to see this," she said. "Michael Fancourt's given an interview about Quine." She passed him a pack of cheese and pickle sandwiches and a copy of The Times, folded to the correct page. Strike lowered himself onto the farting leather sofa and ate while reading the article, which was adorned with a split photograph. On the left-hand side was a picture of Fancourt standing in front of an Elizabethan country house. Photographed from below, his head — Robert Galbraith

She turned on the radio. Christmas music filled the car. She turned it off with a groan.
"It's not going to turn you into an elf if you listen," he promised and liked the smile that played at the corner of her lips, wiggling the small mole that kept drawing his attention.
She glanced at him. "Do you believe in Christmas?"
"I do," he said without hesitation.
"Even after all you've seen and done overseas?"
"Especially because of that... — Dana Marton

What prince wouldn't make a country girl a little restless? Those eyes, that mouth, the broad chest, were a royal combination unlike any other. He only held power over her if she let him, though. He brushed his teeth just like every other person. Put on his shoes one foot at a time.
Prince Theo was just extraordinarily normal.
And she could handle him and her story.
Probably. — Robin Bielman

Her diaper is soiled. A.J. has never changed a diaper in his life, though he is a modestly skilled gift wrapper. Back when Nic was alive, Island used to offer free gift wrap at Christmas, and he figures that diaper changing and gift-wrapping must be related proficiencies. — Gabrielle Zevin

She grinned at her husband. He was wearing a blue towelling bathrobe that was too small for him, and it showed his long, muscular legs. 'You're not so bad yourself,' she said, and she picked up the phone. It was her mother. 'Happy Christmas,' she said. — Ken Follett

Before we light the Yule log, I want to give you this. You have been a very good girl this year, and a wonderful daughter." He held something out to her. Jaclyn hadn't noticed he was carrying anything. She looked down to see he was holding a branch with green leaves and white berries. She gasped, "It's beautiful!" and took the branch from his hand. "The berries reminded me of the winter snow," her father said softly. Jaclyn nodded. "But the green leaves belong in the summer!" She looked up at him. "The trees have long since lost their leaves. Where did you find it?" "I had to travel very far to find it." he told her, leaning in to add, "It's magical. — Laurel O'Donnell

She turned down her street once more, glaring at the garish lights someone had put up along their house. Might as well light the roof with "Santa Park Here". Sheesh. The closer she got to home, though, the lower her heart sank. The overly bright house looked suspiciously like ... No. Oh, no. He wouldn't. He had. Light up animated animals were dotted all over her lawn. The circle of life has apparently found our power outlet. And why the fuck is there a Star of David on my roof? She wasn't exactly the most church-going member of the community, but you'd think Simon would know what religion she was. After all, she knew exactly who was going to officiate at his funeral. She picked up her cell phone and called Emma. "I'm going to kill him. — Dana Marie Bell

He told himself that he was a clown clean through. Every time a fly ball had been hit to him with men on the bases, he'd muffed it. Hoping for one thing, then another, and when he did get his chances -- foul ball.

Girls, too. He'd never held one. Twice Lucy had given him the cold shoulder. That girl he'd knelt next to at Christmas Mass in Saint Patrick's once -- cold shoulder. Never got beyond wishing with her. Now Catherine.

Football. He'd wanted to be a star high-school quarterback and he'd not had the guts to stay in school. Fighting. His kid brother had even cleaned him up. In the war when he'd tried to enlist, a leather-necked sergeant had laughed at him.

He was just an all-around no soap guy. — James T. Farrell

What are you giving him?"
She grins smugly. "Only the greatest gift a woman can give the man she loves."
I take my best guess. "Anal?"
Kate covers her eyes.
Dee-Dee's smile turns into a scowl. "No
pig. I'm giving him the gift of health. My acupuncturist cleared her schedule. She's going to work on Matthew the whole day."
I laugh. Because this explains so much.
"That's your gift? Really? It's the guy's birthday and you're gonna make him get needles stuck in his face all day? What are you gonna get him for Christmas - a colonoscopy? — Emma Chase

So what did you want to talk to Wesley about?" he asked me.
"Kelly likes him," I said. "So I figured while we were discussing Lady Macbeth's insanity and Duncan's murder, I could, you know, casually find out if he likes her too."
Colton didn't blink. "He likes her."
"He does? How do you know?"
He shrugged like it was a silly question. "We talk sometimes. He told me on the drive over he hoped she would be here."
"Then why hasn't he ever asked her out?"
"He's shy. And we're in the middle of wrestling season, midterms, and Christmas." Colton picked up the liter of soda. "Have a little patience."
I reached for the bowl of popcorn, but didn't start out of the kitchen yet. "Well can I hurry him along? Is there any chance he'll ask her out before this weekend?"
Colton shook his head at me, then walked toward the living room. "You're not quite grasping the nature of patience, Charlotte. — Janette Rallison

Boy, it sure was some strange Christmas, she told herself as she opened the living room door. And then she stopped dead. Because her present wasn't under the huge lighted Christmas tree. It was sitting on the sofa, looking toward her furiously, with a glass of whiskey in one lean hand. "Merry Christmas," Winthrop said curtly.
Her mouth flew open. He had a bow stuck on the pocket of his gray vested suit, and he looked hung over and pale and a little disheveled. But he was so handsome that her heart skipped wildly, and she looked into his dark eyes with soft dreams in her own.
"You've got a bow on your pocket," she said in a voice that sounded too high-pitched to be her own.
"Of course I've got a bow on my pocket. I'm your damned Christmas present. Didn't you listen to your father? — Diana Palmer

All he wanted was a long, hot shower and a long, deep sleep.
Meaning that whoever this pissed-off brunette was, whatever deal she'd arranged with his flaky mother, they could talk about it after he'd scrubbed the jungle from his skin and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.
"What do you mean it belongs to you? It can't belong to you. I just rented it," said the girl aiming that pink blow-dryer right at his heart.
If he wasn't so damn exhausted, he might find that funny. She was holding the thing as if it would protect her. It was a blow-dryer! He nodded at it. "What do you plan to do with that thing, honey? Style me to death? — Tracy Brogan

Once, complaining that his mother tried to do things that blind people should not attempt, like lighting candles at Christmas, he said, "My mother wants to have her blindness and eat it, too." I imagined Phil's mother spooning blindness into her own open mouth like devil's food cake. But without texture or weight. Bittersweet and rich. Another time he said, regarding his father's late support checks, that calling him in Texas wouldn't help, it would just make the checks even later. "It's a vicious circus," Phil said. When I asked if he thought that perhaps writing a letter, explaining their situation - the mortgage payment late again, the electric company calling - might help, he said, "I'm virtuously certain it wouldn't," looking martyred and older than his years. — Laura Kasischke

He dipped his head to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he slowly lowered her back to the floor. He took his time tasting her lips, her tongue, memorizing the feel of her curves against him. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
She gripped the front of his shirt, holding him in place. "Don't stop."
"No, no more stopping." He kissed her again, getting lost in the blur of clothes being tossed off, her skin under his fingertips, and the hum of his heart as he fully let himself fall. — Cindi Madsen

He started for his office, but something was bothering him. Turning back to her, he said, "I have to know. DJ walks in and you instantly like her. You've never liked any of the women I've dated, and you've never done more than share a few words with them on the phone. What is different about this one?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice down.
Marge smiled. "You'll remember this one's name. — B. J. Daniels

Nate wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "Let's get you back and I'll build you a fire."
She liked the way he said it. He'd build HER a fire. — Cindi Madsen

What the hell? Ian asked, holding his hands over the front of his Christmas briefs. Sara had ordered them from the Internet, and he'd worn them to please her. Too bad there hadn't been enough time for the underwear to meet with an unfortunate accident. A lot could be blamed on a washing machine. — Rose Wynters

She caught his eye, her gaze instantly sweeping over him. That made him stand a little taller, like a wolf who wanted to impress her with his build. What was there about her that made him want to both please and tease her in a fun-loving way? — Terry Spear

Oh, silly me. Lottie is Olive's dog. You must have seen her: pretty little black cocker spaniel. Mind you, what Olive's son thought he was doing getting his mother a dog last Christmas, I don't know. Crazy with her health problems; and where is he now? Scarpered off to live in Australia. — Mary Grand

Mary knew God loved her. From the moment Gabriel appeared to her, Mary has a distinct sense that God's presence was with her and His hand upon her. She didn't understand everything that was happening, but she was certain that God would be with her through it all. — Stormie O'martian

My countess tells me Genevieve has taken it into her head to remove to Paris. I suspect she wants to avoid being aunt-at-large, while her own situation admits of no change. We are Jenny's family, and Christmas is upon us. Harrison paints, he argues with her, and he has all his teeth. What say you, gentlemen?" "Paris reeks," Lord Kesmore said. "Harrison's scent is rather pleasant by comparison." "He smells of linseed oil," St. Just observed. "A point in his favor," Hazelton murmured, "from Lady Jenny's perspective." Westhaven — Grace Burrowes

DJ saw the change in his expression the moment before he dropped the ax, reached out with his gloved hand and, cupping her neck, drew her to him. "I believe you owe me a kiss. — B. J. Daniels

Anyway, Patrick bought me a tiara. He also bought me a pony. My mommy wasn't happy about the pony, even though we have lots of space in the backyard of our new house. I have a new grandpa, too. We call him Ru because it's easier to say than his real name. He promised to take us toParis on Christmas break. He also bought me a tiara. My uncle Lor spends a lot of time in the library bus. He tells me all the time why it's important to write stuff down. So I am. He also bought me a tiara, and Mommy said, "Enough already." (So I didn't tell her that Drake and Darrius gave me one, too.) — Michele Bardsley

He looked down into Lindsay's face, and her eyes were bright once more, her cheeks flushed....
"I thought you were after the fudge." Lindsay didn't move one centimeter toward the kitchen, didn't stir from his arms.
"I found something sweeter. — Sierra Donovan

I'll get right to the point," Mr. Carter said. "For the last year, we've been searching for a sheriff for our town." He grimaced. "Wouldn't have thought finding one would be so difficult."...
"She hasn't said yes," Carter commented. He slanted her an inquiring glance. "Well, K.C. Granger. Will you have us?"
At the marriage-vow-sounding question, K.C. felt a smile play around her lips, perhaps the first one since Charles' murder. In keeping with the formality of his question, and because a little imp of humor prompted her, she said, "I do. — Debra Holland

Karl and Marthe held the embossed card gingerly. It was Hitler's 1941 Christmas card, a photo of the Winged Victory of Samothrace, an ancient Greek statue the Wehrmacht had taken from the Louvre. His greeting was printed: Our Winged Victory. Beneath that was a scrawl with only the A and H legible. "He . . . touched this," Marthe said. Her hands shook, nearly dropping the card. — Gregory Benford

Mrs. Panabaker is ten years older than God and probably smarter. She stops into the offices every other Thursday to tell my dad what she didn't like about his sermon the previous Sunday. She makes fudge-covered marshmallows at Christmas time and force feeds them to anyone too slow to escape. I've never seen her out of a suit dress and floral scarf, and on Sundays she always wears a matching hat. Last week was a salmon-colored number, and her hat was draped in fake fruit. I wanted to try to eat one of the grapes just to see what she'd do, but I value my life. — A.C. Williams

Lindsay strode to the door and picked up his overcoat from the back of the couch, where he'd tossed it when they came in. She wheeled around to hand him his coat; once again, as expected, Fred was standing right behind her. But this time he wasn't looking at her. He was looking up.
At the mistletoe, directly over their heads.
He met her eyes with a look that glimmered with promise. Then he took the overcoat from her hand and tossed it, lightly, onto the back of the sofa once again.
Everything seemed to slow. His intentions were clear, and she had plenty of time to step back. Yet Lindsay did nothing to stop him when he took her chin in his hand, tipped it upward, and brought his lips down to hers, as purposefully as if he'd meant to do it all along.
Lindsay could have sworn she heard bells....
Still dazed, she followed his eyes upward. "And what's the penalty for ignoring mistletoe?"
"Struck by lightning, I think. — Sierra Donovan

dance. Last time I danced in these rooms it was the Christmas feast and I was wearing a dress of silk as rich as Queen Anne's own, made to the same pattern as the queen's, as if to force a comparison between her and me - her junior by ten years; and her husband the king, Richard, could not take his eyes off me. The whole court knew that he was falling in love with me and that he would leave his old sick wife to be with me. I danced with my sisters, but he saw only me. I danced before hundreds of people, but only for him. — Philippa Gregory

Liesel continued the examination. She moved around him and shrugged. "Not bad."
Not bad!" I look better than just not bad."
The shoes let you down. And your face."
Rudy placed the lantern on the counter and came toward her in mock-anger, and Liesel had to admit that a nervousness started gripping her. It was with both relief and disappointment that she watched him trip and fall on the disgraced mannequin.
On the floor, Rudy laughed.
Then he closed his eyes, clenching them hard.
Liesel rushed over.
She crouched above him.
Kis him, Liesel, kiss him.
Are you all right, Rudy? Rudy?"
I miss him," said the boy, sideways, across the floor.
Frohe Weihnachten," Liesel replied. She helped him up, straightening the suit. "Merry Christmas. — Markus Zusak

She was licking something off the end of a wooden spoon. Red froze. His body reacted as if he'd walked in on her twirling half-naked on a pole....
Frankie was intriguing. Unsettling. Challenging He wanted to figure her out. He wanted to play strip poker with her. He wanted to throw her on the couch and ---
"A touch more oregano, I think." Frankie pointed the spoon at him. — Roxanne Snopek

Nate came back into the kitchen, his hair slightly messy from having had the beanie on. The gray thermal Henley he wore gave him a rugged, all-man look that made her heart skip a couple beats. For someone who was the opposite of her type, he sure was hard not to look at. Add the quiet sense of humor she'd seen last night and delivering chocolate chips, and he'd tiptoed into perfect territory. — Cindi Madsen

Once or twice every night, serving dinner at the big round table, Enid glanced over her shoulder and caught him looking, and made him blush. Al was Kansan. After two months he found courage to take her skating. They drank cocoa and he told her that human beings were born to suffer. He took her to a steel-company Christmas party and told her that the intelligent were doomed to be tormented by the stupid. He was a good dancer and a good earner, however, and she kissed him in the elevator. Soon they were engaged and they chastely rode a night train to McCook, Nebraska, to visit his aged parents. His father kept a slave whom he was married to. — Jonathan Franzen

She ran her hand over his cock and said, "This is the only thing I ever want to come between us."
His grin couldn't have stretched any further. — Terry Spear

Shannon's nipples were sore from being sucked on, but the look of fascination and enjoyment on her husband's handsome face more than made up for any discomfort. He reminded her of a kid at Christmas who'd gotten the toy he most wanted from Santa's bag. He'd been sucking her nipples off and on - mostly on - for at least four hours. He'd been fucking her just as long, staying inside her even during his brief moments of rest. — Jaid Black

God not only loves his people but delights in each one of us. He takes great pleasure in us. He's actually blessed in keeping and delivering us. I see this kind of parental pleasure in my wife, Gwen, whenever one of our grandchildren calls. Gwen lights up like a Christmas tree when she has one of our dear little ones on the line. Nothing can get her off the phone. Even if I told her the President was at our door, she'd shoo me away and keep talking. How could I ever accuse my heavenly Father of delighting in me less than I do in my own offspring? — David Wilkerson

They had been married for three days.
Lauren stirred, moving closer to him for warmth. Careful not to disturb her, he drew the satin quilt up around her shoulders. Reverently he touched her cheek, tracing its elegant curve. Lauren had brought joy to his life and laughter to his home.She thought he was beautiful. When she looked at him, he felt beautiful.
Somewhere in another part of the big house a clock began chiming the hour of midnight. Lauren's lashes slowly flickered open, and he looked into her enchanting blue eyes. "It's Christmas," he whispered.
His wife smiled up at him, and her answer made his throat tighten. "No," she said softly, laying her fingers against his jaw. "Christmas came three days ago. — Judith McNaught

Someone must perform my duties."
Levet stiffened. There was a faux innocence in her tone that set off his spicy senses. Or was it Spidey-sense?
He narrowed his gaze. "Duties?"
She blinked, a dimple abruptly appearing beside her mouth. "I'm a Christmas angel."
"Oui, so you said."
She waved a hand toward the nearby pines covered in snow., "And it is Christmas."
Hmm. Levet tried to recall what he'd heard about Christmas angels. He knew they didn't slide down chimneys or ride reindeer, but it seemed that they were rumored to do something Christmassy.
"Do you spread festive joy?" he demanded. — Alexandra Ivy

She closed her eyes, soaking in the feel of his hand, then opened them and stared at his perfect face as longing wrapped itself around her heart. "If this is a mistake, it's one I'll gladly keep making."
"I don't think it's a mistake, I just want to do things the right way."
"Not everything's always black and white. And you don't always have to put what you want on hold for everyone else. — Cindi Madsen

Hannah leaned her face against his chest, and he felt the curve of her smile. "What is it?" he asked.
"Our first night together. And our first morning will be Christmas." Rafe patted her naked hip. "And I've already unwrapped my present."
"You're rather easy to shop for," she said, making him laugh.
"Always. Because Hannah, my love, the only gift I'll ever want" - he paused to kiss her smiling lips - "is you. — Lisa Kleypas

I think I die a little every time I look at you."
Lenna's key slid from her hand and dropped to the floor at their feet.
Braxton looked down at it for a second and then lifted his eyes. "The first time," he went on, "at the Christmas party, when I looked up and saw you in the doorway ... " He paused and sucked in a breath as if he were reliving that very moment all over again. "I couldn't breathe. I haven't been able to breathe right since then. — Linda Kage

So he held her and he prayed. Shafts of moonlight on his face. But the baby in her womb, He was the maker of the moon. He was the author of the fate that could make the mountains move. — Andrew Peterson

Harry dreamed he was back in the DA room. Cho was accusing him of luring her there under false pretences; she said he had promised her a hundred and fifty Chocolate Frog Cards if she showed up. Harry protested ... Cho shouted, 'Cedric gave me loads of Chocolate Frog Cards, look!' And pulled out fistfuls of Cards from inside her robes and threw them into the air. Then she turned into Hermione, who said, 'You did promise her, you know, Harry ... I think you'd better give her something else instead ... how about your Firebolt?'
And Harry was protesting that he could not give Cho his Firebolt, because Umbridge had it, and anyway the whole thing was ridiculous, he'd only come to the DA room to put up some Christmas baubles shaped like Dobby's head ... — J.K. Rowling

Tell me if you want to stop." His voice was surprisingly unsteady as he stood back.
Her heart was pounding. She was glad to know she wasn't the only one so affected. "No way." Moonlight and streetlights streamed in from her two windows to give them more than enough illumination. "Now strip. — Katie Reus

I'm in awe of you, Rowan Palotay," he said softly. "And plan to make love to you for the rest of the night, but right now, I want you to be a good cowgirl and ride me."
His finger hooked around the string of her panties, and he tugged them down and off. "The boots stay on. — Robin Bielman

He reached up and traced her cheek with the outside of his fingers. "Guys like me look for reasons. We look for explanations. I've been trying for hours to make sense out of this, and I only know two things. When it comes to you and Santa Claus, 'sense' doesn't work. And I love you. — Sierra Donovan

If you could travel anywhere in the US for a vacation, where would you go?"
He reached up with his free hand and rubbed his jaw, two creases forming between his eyebrows. She wanted to take over for him, brush her fingers across his whiskers, make him groan the way she had earlier. But she decided to behave herself.
For now.
"I've always wanted to go to Yellowstone," he said. "See all the wildlife. Maybe go fishing." ...
"I'd pick a beach, Florida or California. Where I could be in my bikini more than not, rarely wear shoes, and wake up to the sound of the ocean."
"Well, if you're gonna be wearing a bikini, I'm switching to a beach vacation with you." ...
"Okay, so foreign vacation," she said, snuggling against him. "Then where would you go?" ...
"Let's just cut to the chase and say wherever you'd go. — Cindi Madsen

Sara reached over and rubbed Holly's arm for a moment. Then she pulled back and asked, "Have you ever heard the Christmas song, Mary, Did You Know?" Holly looked up, into her friend's clear blue eyes. She shook her head and Sara continued. "It's a beautiful song about the Savior's mother, Mary. The singers ask if when she held baby Jesus, if she knew what His life would be like or that He would be her Savior and the Savior of the world. I think every mother is like Mary. Not in the fact that we gave birth to the Savior, but that when we have a child, we never know what his future holds, how he'll change our lives or someone else's life. — Danyelle Ferguson

Because you are..." Her words faded. What was he? She still remembered his kiss and her gaze dropped to his lips. Their relationship had changed. He used to be a friend, someone who shared a past with her and her family. But now, he was more than that. Every time she saw him, her heart did a strange flutter. She shook herself. He was an opponent. She should view him as she did Blaise. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. She longed to confide in him. But it was so dangerous. "Brilliant?" he encouraged her to continue. "Wise beyond my years?" His smile was contagious. Jaclyn rolled her eyes and turned. "And here I was going to say a good kisser. — Laurel O'Donnell

He smiled. And she smiled back.
And that was it.
They quickly closed the distance between them, though she didn't remember moving. But she must have because she wasn't standing next to the sofa any longer and their lips were melded together as if they were meant to be that way. The wine on his lips and tongue tasted as divine as he did. His hands were on her bare shoulders, holding her in place while he worked miracles with his kisses. — Terry Spear

Guthrie turned to see who his attacker was. And smiled when he caught her eye.
He had the most devilishly wolfish look about him -- a mixture of impending payback with a snowball and something a wee bit more intimate, like a tackle in the snow. But he wouldn't. Not in front of his clansmen. Not when they weren't courting. At least, she hoped not. — Terry Spear

Is that mistletoe?"
Jim nodded.
"Cool. We don't have that in Australia."
"So you've never kissed beneath the mistletoe."
She shook her head.
"When in Canada..." His eyes searched hers.
"When in Canada," she repeated softly.
Jim pulled her close, parted his lips slightly, gazed into her eyes and she forgot to breathe. Everything around them fell away. She forgot the people behind her, forgot the crowd in the church, forgot Scumbag Steve. Forgot that it was Christmas and she was in a foreign country about to kiss a stranger. None of it mattered. She gazed into Jim's eyes, losing herself in the soft gray depths.
"May this kiss be the beginning of your Christmas dreams come true," he whispered as he gently pressed his lips into hers. — Nicki Edwards

Their cook at Badenoch was a crotchety old lady who hadn't tried a new recipe in decades. "Dinna tell Mrs. MacGuff that or she'll put a spider in your tea."
"Try it and tell me 'tis not worth the risk." He tore off a corner of the bridie and lifted the bite to Katherine's lips.
It fairly melted on her tongue. In addition to the crusty pasty, a unique mix of spices seasoned the savory meat inside, a burst of sensations for her mouth. "Och, you're right. This is worth braving a spider. I'll get Cook to show me how she makes these, and then Mrs. MacGuff will either learn from me or she'll have to suffer my presence in her kitchen from time to time. And we know how she loves that!"
"So," he said smugly, his dark eyes alight with triumph, "ye do intend to come home with me after Christmas, then. — Mia Marlowe

What babe new born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings
This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of Kings. — Richard Watson Gilder

But he hadn't appeared that night. Not the next morning, either. By the time she finally crossed paths with him the following afternoon, his mumbled "Merry Christmas" was the extent of their exchange.
It seemed they were back to silence.
I don't want you.
She tried to ignore the words echoing in her memory. They weren't true, she told herself. She was an expert at deceit; she knew a lie when she heard one.
Still. What else to believe, when he avoided her thus?
Although he rarely spoke to her over the next two days, Sophia frequently overheard him speaking of her. Even these remarks were the tersest of commands: "Fetch Miss Turner more water," or "See that her canopy doesn't go slack." She felt herself being tended, not unlike a goat. Fed, watered, sheltered. Perhaps she shouldn't complain. Food, water, and shelter were all welcome things.
But Sophia was not livestock, and she had other, more profound needs. Needs he seemed intent on neglecting, the infuriating man. — Tessa Dare

He disliked tears, he has always disliked tears, had never understood them, and sometimes lost his temper over them; but he felt now that he could not rebuke this flower of his life, this innocent form, water and youth are inseparable companions, and besides it's Christmas night. So he merely hinted again that she must have forgotten again that he had promised to build her a house. — Halldor Laxness

His wife, Genevieve, had her bare feet up on the sofa, exhausted by the responsibility of coordinating the domestic crisis of Christmas in a house with a dreamy husband, four kids, two dogs, a mare in the paddock, a rabbit, and a guinea pig, plus sundry invading mice and rats that kept finding inventive routes into their kitchen. In many ways it was a house weathering a permanent state of siege. — Graham Joyce

It had been a long time since he'd had a woman wrap her arms around his waist and hang on like her life depended on it. It felt nice. Very nice.
---
After two months on her own, the touch of a man felt nice. Very nice. — Nicki Edwards

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. He could not look at her, but returned the pressure, now taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something to give them, and he had not thought of it, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parent's grave.
As soon as he stood up he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, and they turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate. — J.K. Rowling

Anna's spiritual formation was relegated to cultural expressions of faith: the Christmas Baby Jesus and his gifts, the Easter risen Christ and his chocolate bunnies, and a copy of The Thorn Birds pulled from her mother's bookshelf. — Jill Alexander Essbaum

It was dusk when Rick led Amelia and Sam toward the Old Town plaza. "Come with me. You're going to love this."
Amelia could hear music in the distance. She recognized the delicate strumming of a few guitars and the faint sound of singing. As they approached the plaza, Amelia could see four men playing and singing folk songs. It was beautiful. The music was coming straight from their soul and it held her spellbound. She stood in awe and watched, loving every note that drifted toward her.
"Come here," said Rick as he motioned toward some benches. "Let's sit down."
After the three of them got comfortable, Rick put his arm around Amelia's shoulders. "If you think this is beautiful, wait until Christmas. They have Luminarias and sing Christmas songs in both English and Spanish. — Linda Weaver Clarke

Despite all the commotion, and to Calla's surprise, Guthrie kissed her. His lips were warm and masculine and tasted like wassail. Cinnamon, apple cider, and oranges. She licked his mouth to enjoy more of the taste and he licked hers back, smiling. then he deepened the kiss.
Oh my God! She hadn't felt this naughty in forever! The men were going to move the tree soon, and here she and Guthrie would be. Kissing. In front of several members of his pack. She pushed her arms through the branches, trying to wrap them around his neck. She tangled her tongue with his, his cock hardening against her belly, and she felt deliciously wicked hidden beneath the half-decorated tree. — Terry Spear