Romantic Mystery Quotes & Sayings

I'd rather be stung to death by a bunch of piss ants. ~Synola Harper, You're Busting My Nuptials — Ann Everett

Much of the attraction of the cult has to do with the grace of an early and romantic death. George Orwell once observed that if Napoleon Bonaparte had been cut down by a musket ball as he entered Moscow, he would have been remembered as the greatest general since Alexander. And not only did Guevara die before his ideals did, he died in such a manner as to inspire something akin to superstition. He rode among the poor of the altiplano on a donkey. He repeatedly foresaw and predicted the circumstances of his own death. He was spurned and betrayed by those he claimed to set free. He was by calling a healer of the sick. The photographs of his corpse, bearded and half-naked and lacerated, make an irresistible comparison with paintings of the deposition from Calvary. There is a mystery about his last resting place. Alleged relics are in circulation. There have even been sightings ... . — Christopher Hitchens

Amelia? Let's make sure we set some time aside every day for one another. We shouldn't bring our work home with us. Okay?"
She smiled. "Deal! — Linda Weaver Clarke

Don't you believe any man who makes you feel like you were just a one-time thing." His arms tighten around me and his words tickle my ear, "You could never be any man's forgettable moment." He holds me away from him and I feel ridiculously like I could melt in the dark pools of his eyes. "You are a force to be remembered, Dacie Mae. — Gwenn Wright

He strummed a few chords and then sang:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
Rick sang one more verse, and when he was done, he winked at Amelia and smiled. — Linda Weaver Clarke

She closed her eyes briefly, feeling sick. Olivia had experienced strangulation before. Having to look directly into the face of the person who was killing you made the experience beyond awful. But there were worse things than that. Staring into the void of unresolved memory, living an eternal mystery, waking up night after night seeing the face of someone you desperately wanted to save but having not the slightest clue how to do it - all that was worse. If going through with this experience gave her the answers she needed, if it gave her peace, it would be well worth one-hundred-and-thirty seconds of fear and pain. — Leslie Parrish

The heavy rain dripped off his thick leather hat and sloshed on the dry hard ground. To someone with a soul, it might have been peaceful, pretty, even to watch the drops bounce and form graceful puddles before they disappeared into the cracks in the Earth.

Daniel Marlin merely cursed. He only saw the weather as another delay before they could rescue their brother from jail. He turned the horse back into the copse of trees, hating to admit defeat. — Grace Willows

She knocked at the door, expecting a friendly greeting because of the atmosphere of this house, but, instead, the door opened just a crack and dark eyes stared at her for a moment. Then the door gradually opened and an elderly woman grabbed
Amelia's hand and yanked her inside.
Hurry! Get inside! — Linda Weaver Clarke

And when whatever happened in that barn happened, it was a moment I'll never forget. Like a missing key slid into a dusty old lock. Click. My world opened. — Jennifer Walkup

Romantic fiction, in the broader sense, can be any novel that has a love story somewhere in it. It can be a mystery or a historical novel, as long as it has this very strong romantic thread running through it. — Susanna Kearsley

The glow of a sunset more lasting, more roseate. more human - filling, perhaps, with romantic wonder the thoughts of some solitary lover, wandering in the street below and brought to a standstill before the mystery of the human presence which those lighted windows at once revealed and screened from sight ... — Marcel Proust

Rick looked at his watch and gave a nod. "Yup! We have enough time before our next appointment."
"Enough time for what?" asked Amelia.
He grinned and began dancing around her and singing in jazz style: "Goin' down the bayou! Goin' down the bayou! Goin' down the bayou! Doodle-ee doodle-ee-doo!"
When Rick saw her eyes brighten, he said, I checked out a few bayous at Cross Lake. We're goin' down the bayou, sweetie."
Amelia asked with laughter in her voice, "Were you just singing a Disney tune? From the Princess and the Frog?"
"Yup! I have many talents. — Linda Weaver Clarke

What exactly does the I in FBI stand for?" ~Maggie Mae Castro — Beth Yarnall

Perhaps the palms had been whispering warnings in the sultry breeze. — T.L. Parker

Anonymity crowned him as if t'were the halo of romantic glory. — Emmuska Orczy

She tried to shriek for help, to cry out against the blinding agony, but her mouth wouldn't open. The scream stalled in her throat and she gagged. Oh my God. She couldn't move her lips. She couldn't say one word. — Meryl Sawyer

You have a very attractive revenge streak in you. I like it. A lot." ~Maggie Mae Castro to FBI Special Agent Clive Poole — Beth Yarnall

The terror is trapped inside of him and paralyzes him. He closes his eyes again and tries to drown out the scream - but it keeps ringing and ringing and ringing in his ears. — Suneeta Misra

The ocean was a molten gold. A drum roll sent the crowd into a frenzied cheering which reached a fevered pitch when the ocean swallowed the sun in a kinetic bolt of color representing the entire spectrum of light. Matt studied Shelly as she watched awed. The child-like delight on her face was captivating. — Meryl Sawyer

I would love to write a mystery - a romantic, funny mystery. — Cecelia Ahern

She would not have another man push her aside like some appetizer, there to wet his whistle only to be left once the main dish arrived.

No more. She pushed her thumb into his throat a little harder. — Jacqueline Simon Gunn

The dark sky seemed to swallow the moon, as Samantha stood alone on the deserted highway. — Grace Willows

I feel like I've been ironing all day in high heels and no brassiere. ~Tizzy Donovan, Laid Out and Candle Lit — Ann Everett

You realized you were surrounded by love, that you were held by love, and that you'd had too small an imagination about that word, that thing. Romantic love, absolutely. Our notion of love - it just seems a very unevolved and very unenlightened notion. That it's this one person who you will meet. Eve Ensler — Krista Tippett

Look at me, Nat. I won't bite."
There was a long pause before he said, "Hard. — Donna Grant

Understanding knowledge as an essential element of love is vital because we are bombarded daily with messages that tell us love is about mystery, about that which cannot be known. We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message is received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction. — Bell Hooks

He met her challenging gaze. "You really have no idea what is good for you," he said as he caged her against the side of the pickup with a hand on each side of her.
I used to think you would be good for me," she said quietly, her voice rough with emotion. — B. J. Daniels

Brick stood silhouetted against the frozen lake through this front window. "Be careful. It sounds like you've got at least one killer out there. Someone who thought they'd gotten away with murder. It's easier to kill after the first time, they say. — B. J. Daniels

I am the dangerous daughter, thigh-stroking, soft-tongued lover, the pit, the well, and the well of horniness, laughter rolling up out of me like gravy boiling over the edge of a pan. I become the romantic, the mystic, the one without shame, rocking myself on the hip of a rock, a woman as sharp as coral. I make in my mind the muscle that endures, tame rage and hunger to spirit and blood. I become the rock. I become the knife. I am myself the mystery. The me that will be waits for me. If I cannot dream myself new, how will I find my true self? — Dorothy Allison

Tallie looked for something to throw, but considering the fact that she threw like a girl, she dumped that plan in lieu of grabbing her new iron and swinging it like a bowling ball between the bad man's legs, where it connected with a nauseating _thunk_. — Stephanie Bond

Annella frantically searched through the sea of people, afraid she was about to drown. Then relief washed over her when she met her father's gaze and made her way back to him. But as she stepped closer, all pleasure left her. A crimson liquid pooled over the fingers that he held to his throat.
"Anne," he choked out....
A piercing scream traveled through the streets of Venice. — Victoria Roberts

She had no doubt the man would kill her. Stupid things went skating through her mind
she'd never told her mother how much she loved her chocolate cupcakes ... or Felicia what a kind friend she'd been ... or Keith that it was cool and mature that he owned a house, even if it was in Brooklyn. — Stephanie Bond

Nat," he whispered and lowered his head.
Her heart missed a beat as his soft mouth brushed against hers. Then his lips were atop hers, firmly, his tongue sliding against them. — Donna Grant

'I have nothing to offer you but a lifetime's worth of failures and misfortune,' Sergio said with damp eyes,
'but they are yours if you want them.'
And for some reason buried deep in the incomprehensible mystery that is woman, she did want them. Very much. — Josh Wagner

How about I kiss you so we can get past this awkwardness? — Stephanie Bond

I am a die-hard romantic at heart and love the idea of love. But, when it comes to love, I kinda believe in the old world charm of romance - where there's mystery and intrigue. — Esha Gupta

I've seen plays that are, objectively, total messes that move me in ways that their tidier brethren do not. That's the romantic mystery of great theater. Translating this ineffability into printable prose is a challenge that can never be fully met. — Ben Brantley

I want more than last night. I want you. — Donna Grant

As much as I'm turned on by your buff, sexy body pressing against mine, if you could please roll off of me, I'll get my guns. — Alexa Grace

If I weren't so screwed up, I would've sold my soul a long time ago for a handsome man who made me feel pretty or who could at least treat me to a Millionaire's Martini. Instead I lingered over a watered down Sparkling Apple and felt sorry about what I was about to do to the blue-eyed bartender standing in front of me. Although I shouldn't, after all, I am a bail recovery agent. It's my job to get my skip, no matter the cost.If I weren't so screwed up, I would've sold my soul a long time ago for a handsome man who made me feel pretty or who could at least treat me to a Millionaire's Martini. Instead I lingered over a watered down Sparkling Apple and felt sorry about what I was about to do to the blue-eyed bartender standing in front of me. Although I shouldn't, after all, I am a bail recovery agent. It's my job to get my skip, no matter the cost. Yet, I had been wondering lately. What was this job costing me? Yet, I had been wondering lately. What was this job costing me? — Miranda Parker

You sparkle even in the dark. — Donna Grant

Hey Shelly, you're looking at me like I'm from another planet. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Bubbles sold me alien abduction insurance. I haven't got a care in the world. — Meryl Sawyer

You're my hero," he murmured.
She grinned up at him. "What a coincidence. You're _my_ hero. — Stephanie Bond

Look, I get it. I'm a white, heterosexual man. It's really easy for me to say, 'Oh, wow, wasn't the nineteenth century terrific?' But try this. Imagine the scene: It's pouring rain against a thick window. Outside, on Baker Street, the light from the gas lamps is so weak that it barely reaches the pavement. A fog swirls in the air, and the gas gives it a pale yellow glow. Mystery brews in every darkened corner, in every darkened room. And a man steps out into that dim, foggy world, and he can tell you the story of your life by the cut of your shirtsleeves. He can shine a light into the dimness, with only his intellect and his tobacco smoke to help him. Now. Tell me that's not awfully romantic? — Graham Moore

Edgar Allan Poe was an American poet, short story writer, playwright, editor, critic, essayist and one of the leaders of the American Romantic Movement. Best known for his tales of the macabre and mystery, Poe was one of the early American practitioners of the short story and a progenitor of detective fiction and crime fiction. He is also credited with contributing to the emergent science fiction genre.Poe died at the age of 40. The cause of his death is undetermined and has been attributed to alcohol, drugs, cholera, rabies, suicide (although likely to be mistaken with his suicide attempt in the previous year), tuberculosis, heart disease, brain congestion and other agents. Source: Wikipedia — Edgar Allan Poe

As long as we're young, we manage to find excuses for the stoniest indifference, the most blatant caddishness, we put them down to emotional eccentricity or some sort of romantic inexperience. But later on, when life shows us how much cunning, cruelty, and malice are required just to keep the body at ninety-eight point six, we catch on, we know the scene, we begin to understand how much swinishness it takes to make up a past. Just take a close look at yourself and the degree of rottenness you've come to. There's no mystery about it, no more room for fairy tales; if you've lived this long, it's because you've squashed any poetry you had in you. — Louis-Ferdinand Celine

She swore she'd never turn into her P.I. father...but that was before she ran over the body. — Lida Sideris

I thought again about throwing language all over a scene, wondered if the emotional mystery of one's response to place doesn't lie in the inchoate play of possible words, of felt meanings and poetries, of the sublime, the romantic, the picturesque, Zen; even, perhaps, something new. And perhaps that twinge of disappointment one always feels at the words chosen - and thus also at the glorious scene-comes from the dream that in that instant of indecision and all-decision before your mind clarified its response to beauty, you just might have held within you language finally saturated with all the earth's meaning." Page 211 — Daniel Duane

She was the kind of woman a person could die over or kill over. — Jacqueline Simon Gunn

I'm concerned about the woman you're holding prisoner in there," Beckett said. "Knock three times if you're being held against your will."
Phoebe gasped and answered, "I'm fine, too."
"Good." Beckett said with a chuckle. "I was afraid I'd have to call the cops on my cop brother. — Elle James

Amelia was instantly distracted when she heard one of her favorite songs: What a Wonderful World made famous by Louis Armstrong. The woman singing did the song justice as she sang:
I see trees of gree, red roses, too.
I see them bloom, for me and you.
And I think to myself.
What a wonderful world!
Before she could blink an eye, Rick pulled her into his arms in a waltz position.
He gave her a wink and said flirtatiously, "May I have this dance, my love?"
As they danced to the rhythm of the music, Amelia said, "Don't ever stop flirting with me, no matter how old we get."
"Never! — Linda Weaver Clarke

Hud? Back here? Oh, man, what a birthday present," Hilde said, giving her another hug. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I can imagine what seeing him again did to you."
"I still want to kill him," Dana whispered.
"Not on your birthday." Hilde frowned. — B. J. Daniels

After a moment, Amelia heard Rick humming as he marched down the ramp. It was a familiar tune. She raised a curious brow as she listened to him and then it dawned on her.
"Singing in the Rain!" she exclaimed. "How do you know that song?"
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "I had sisters. Remember?" And with that statement, he burst into song: "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling'! I'm happy again. — Linda Weaver Clarke

What a voice. Deep, throaty, but not in a sexy way. In a haunted way. A voice full of heartbreak and ghosts.

I won't go back, I won't go home,
'Cause in this place, the dead still roam,
'Cause this time, Whiskey Bayou won't let me go. — Susannah Sandlin

I do not like to work with patients who are in love. Perhaps it is because of envy - I, too, crave enchantment. Perhaps it is because love and psychotherapy are fundamentally incompatible. The good therapist fights darkness and seeks illumination, while romantic love is sustained by mystery and crumbles upon inspection. — Irvin D. Yalom

A lot of good the door did. The man's pheromones oozed through the keyhole and the crack underneath the panelled wood. — Stephanie Bond

Did you mean what you said before? About the dead hanging around? You really believe it? — Jennifer Walkup

Extraordinary women who love and heal. — Jacki Delecki

These were not the belongings of the past prisoner he had imagined. These were a lady's things - hairpins and stockings and a glove. There were more clues waiting but William no longer felt certain he wanted to know the dark secrets of this cell. — Gwenn Wright

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

Audubon considered it a bad day if he didn't shoot a hundred birds. "It's amazing that his name has become synonymous with conservation. — Meryl Sawyer

Only the ocean kept the same rhythm. Crashing in and slowly pulling back out, it never lied, never changed. It tried to teach them a life of romantic consistency. — Lawren Leo

When it's the two of us and that pussy of yours is soft, swollen, and wet, I'll be the one in control. I'll have you wherever and whenever I want - in my bed, on my desk, on the floor right now if I want to. I'm going to own that sexy body of yours so thoroughly that you're going to beg for my cock, because it's going to be the only thing in the world that you want. And once I'm buried balls deep in you and you are filled with me, I'm going to make you come apart in the best way possible. Do you understand? — Avery Flynn

What is your secret? What could you possibly know, more than 80 years after you death, that someone doesn't want us to find out? — Jennifer Walkup

You've got to admit that you live at the center of a vortex that seems to funnel nothing but trouble your way." ~FBI Special Agent Clive Poole to Maggie Mae Castro — Beth Yarnall

I was beginning to agree with the thesis that some truths were better off dead.
And buried. — Simona Panova

My eyes meet his and I understand exactly what he's saying. He's my person. He's my home. — Jennifer Walkup

Nothing woke up a man as quickly in the morning as a scorpion in his pants. — Dana Marton

Do you remember that old song? 'She wore an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot bikini ... — Linda Weaver Clarke

Her emotions boiled up like one of the Yellowstone geysers just down the road. First shock and right on its heels came fury. When Hud had left town five years ago, she'd convinced herself she'd never have to lay eyes on that sorry son of a bitch again. And here he was. Damn, just when she thought things couldn't get any worse. — B. J. Daniels

Live life to the fullest and never forget the people that supported you along the way. — Dorothy W. Cosey

He held up his hand, and in it was ...
Oh, God.
The neon-pink vibrator, glowing in the dark now. It was following her, stalking her, all the way down the yellow brick road to hell. — Jill Shalvis

There was a natural resource in the affective devotion to the saints and to Jesus, and a similar intensity of devotion inevitably became directed to the ordinary human.7 Eleanor of Aquitaine, the paragon of courtly love at the courts of Angers and Poitiers, was a grandchild of Guillaume, duke of Aquitaine, the first known troubadour. In many of Guillaume's love songs 'the vocabulary and emotional fervor hitherto ordinarily used to express man's love for God are transferred to the liturgical worship of woman, and vice versa.'8 The layering of Christian feeling and the new romantic spirit is also witnessed in the roman courtois, the epic stories filled with legendary material and hinged on figures of woman, mystery and quest. — Anthony Bartlett

Brody McTavish. Harper grimaced in embarrassment. She'd been half in love with him as far back as she could remember. Not that he had looked twice at her. He'd been the handsome rowdy teen she used to spy on from a distance. — B. J. Daniels

The bones said death was comin', and the bones never lied.
Eva Savoie leaned back in the rocking chair and pushed it into motion on the uneven wide-plank floor of the one-room cabin. Her grand pere Julien had built the place more than a century ago, pulling heavy cypress logs from the bayou and sawing them, one by one, into the thick planks she still walked across ever day.
She had never known Julien Savoie, but she knew of him. The curse that had stalked her family for three generations had started with her grandfather and what he'd done all those years ago.
What he'd brought with him to Whiskey Bayou with blood on his hands.
What had driven her daddy to shoot her mama, and then himself, before either turned forty-five.
What had led Eva's brother, Antoine, to drown in the bayou only a half mile from this cabin, leaving a wife and infant son behind.
What stalked Eva now. — Susannah Sandlin

Says here there's a reward," Mr. Hooks said.
Tallie blinked, then remembered Keith had added that tidbit for incentive. She opened her purse and scrutinized the contents of her slim wallet
twelve dollars and a book of stamps. She handed over the ten and the stamps, then tossed in a free drink coupon from Starbucks. "Thanks." Then she turned and fled. — Stephanie Bond

My life of crime began at seven twenty-eight this morning."
~ Charmaine Digby — Wendy Delaney

The blank sheet stares up at me, its emptiness like a slap. Those were the last words Ginny ever wrote before she and her family were murdered. — Jennifer Walkup

Someone else is looking for him?"
"That's right, two men." Mrs. Brody softly laughed and said "They look just like those men in that alien movie. Dressed in black suits and sunglasses. They don't have much of a sense of humor though. When they came to my door, I asked them if they were seeking aliens and I assured them I wasn't one. They didn't laugh at my joke. — Linda Weaver Clarke

I am a very good cook." When she did cook.
"Good. I like to eat." He lightly bit her palm.
The too-much-air feeling in Lucy's stomach pressed upward into her heart. "What?" she asked past the constriction in her chest.
"What do I like to eat?"
"Yeah."
"Blondes with blue eyes."
Oh God. She pulled her hand from his. "Are you hungry?"
His gaze lowered to her mouth. "I could eat. — Rachel Gibson

She struggled with all her might, but he was much too heavy and strong.
With a sigh, Amelia finally said, "You win. How can I defend myself in a situation like this?"
"That's a good question."
With a satisfied grin, he got to his feet and said, "I'll show you. — Linda Weaver Clarke

By the way, I do enjoy fairytale endings, in case you misunderstood me." He glanced at her and smiled. "I like it when good wins over evil ... when the knight defeats the dragon and saves the fair maiden ... and when the woodsman saves Little Red Riding Hood. I like it when they say, 'And they lived happily ever after' ...
Just because I'm a man doesn't mean that I don't have a romantic bone in my body." Rick gave a curt nod. "Men can be romantic, too. — Linda Weaver Clarke

Rick had said the perfect honeymoon was being together. — Linda Weaver Clarke

There was something romantic about all of it, in the way he cradled my cheek when his mouth returned to mine and whispered my name like I was some kind of mystery he'd never be able to figure out. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

It's a mistake to act as though we're not created equal.
It's another mistake not to correct the first one.
Blaming others nurtures failure.
Helping others reaps a share of their success. — L. Anthony

What's for dinner?"
"Roast beef. I heard it was a woman's body buried on Hamilton Ranch and that her body had been mummified."
"Roast beef and mummified should never be used in the same sentence," he joked as he headed toward the refrigerator for a beer. — B. J. Daniels

Morning, ma'am. I'm looking for Tommy Mason. Is he around?" Polite and professional, that was Senior Agent Broussard.
"Lord, what's that no-good sonofabitch done now? Wait, you ain't a cop; you're a game warden. "What'd he do, run over a fish? — Susannah Sandlin

If you lift the romantic element out of my plots, you still have fully formed mysteries. In the same fashion, if you pull the mystery out of a historical romance, you are left with a perfectly satisfying story. — Deanna Raybourn

Great. This girl was going to seriously mess with my ability to stay on parole. ~Maggie Mae Castro — Beth Yarnall

It is the Valley of Fear, the Valley of Death. The terror is in the hearts of the people from the dusk to the dawn. Wait, young man, and you will learn for yourself.

---Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — Donna Cummins

I play to win and if it looks like I've lost, its only because its not over yet. — Kiera Dellacroix

Unlike typical romantic comedies, Definitely Maybe is not formulaic or predictable and it spans a decade while being set against a political background. Also, the audience doesn't know who ends up with who until the very end, which makes it a sort of "romantic mystery comedy". — Isla Fisher

I look away, but we've caught each other. And I know this wasn't just a ghost story to him, even if it was to the others. — Jennifer Walkup

She wondered, would their relationship gradually turn into something more? ... Time would tell! — Linda Weaver Clarke

If you don't look at me right this minute, Brody McTavish, I'm going to ---"
He swung on her. Had she not been standing flatfooted she would have stumbled back. Instead, she was rooted to the ground as suddenly he was in her face. "I've been listening to you and I've been looking at you for years," he said, his voice deep and thick with emotion. "I've been waiting for you to grow up." His voice faltered as he dropped his horse's reins. "Because I've been wanting to do this since you were sixteen."
Grabbing her, he pulled her against his rock-hard body. His mouth dropped to hers. Her lips parted of their own accord, just as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he deepened the kiss and she heard herself moan. — B. J. Daniels

He'd been trying to save this woman in his dreams for years. Now here she was, all grown up, and he still felt helpless. — B. J. Daniels

As is so often the case with a legend, every incident has two possible interpretations, the plausible and the one that is molded to suit the making of the myth. Man is a romantic at heart and will always put aside dull, plodding reason for the excitement of an enigma. As Doc had pointed out, mystery, not logic, is what gives us hope and keeps us believing in a force greater than our own insignificance. — Bryce Courtenay

Pooley the realist pooh-poohed such notions, but Pooley the mystic, dreamer and romantic sensed the aura of pagan mystery which surrounded the crop-headed man. — Robert Rankin

Cecil reached for Dave, but Dave stepped back. "Dave, why are you doing this? You're not getting paid. Lovejoy called you off the case. You want the truth? You're compulsive. You can't leave it alone. You're like Adam Streeter, you know that? You live for danger."
"I live for justice," Dave said.
"Justice is a dream," Cecil scoffed, "a romantic ideal. Who the fuck gets justice in this life?( ... ) — Joseph Hansen

You married me for my brains? I can't believe it."
He grinned. "Well, among other things."
"My charming personality?"
He chuckled. "Not exactly. You have the nicest looking legs ever."
"What?"
"Hey! I can't help it. I guess I'm just a leg man. Personality comes in second. Brains are third."
"Brains are third?" she said in mock disappointment.
"So why did you marry me?"
"Hmmm." Amelia tapped his lips. "Your sweet kisses were the main reason. The rest of you came as a package deal."
"The rest of me?" he said incredulously. "Well, at least I'm a good kisser. I can live with that. — Linda Weaver Clarke