Tanned Quotes & Sayings

I'm blonde and tanned and normal-sized! I'm sweet, shy, funny, have a big heart and I'm nice - and I like to eat. — Paris Hilton

When we think of an actor, we think of a tanned, frosted-tipped, model-looking guy. We don't think of a plumber. — Nick Offerman

The most she could hope for was the chance to run away and let her love die a slow, natural death.

"Go to Hell," she said.

"Not without you." His sexy mouth tipped into a boyish grin, white teeth gleaming against tanned skin. — Aleah Barley

Young men seemed to collect by her side, ready with drinks and conversation. She tanned quickly and easily, her delicate limbs oiled and gleaming. In the evening, she made the most of her new tan in low-cut clinging evening dresses in white or black. — Kathleen Tessaro

Ah-there's our boy!" Bill pointed at the head of the crowd as they neared the stadium.
A lean,muscular boy was running, faster than the others,his back to Luce. His hair was dark brown and shiny, his shoulders deeply tanned and painted with intersecting red-and-black bands. When he turned his head slightly to the left,Luce caught a quick glimpse of his profile.He was nothing like the Daniel she had left in her parents' backyard. And yet-
"Daniel!" Luce said. "He looks-"
"Different and also precisely the same?" Bill asked.
"Yes."
"That's his soul you recognize. Regardless of how you two may look on the outside,you'll always know each other's souls."
It hadn't occured to Luce until now how remarkable it was that the recognized Daniel in every life. Her soul found his. "That's ... beautiful."
Bill scratched at a scab on his arm with a gnarly claw. "If you say so. — Lauren Kate

They kept a clean and neat house. Rebeca would open it wide at dawn and the wind from the graveyard would come in through the windows and go out through the doors to the yard and leave the whitewashed walls and furniture tanned by the saltpeter of the dead. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I scraped my heel against this black claw: I wanted to peel off some of the bark. For no reason at all, out of defiance, to make the bare pink appear absurd on the tanned leather: to play with the absurdity of the world. But, when I drew my heel back, I saw that the bark was still black. — Jean-Paul Sartre

There he is, tall, tanned, Italian, sophisticated. So what do you do?"
I said, "Er, leap on him and snog him within an inch of his life? Taking care not to strangle myself on his false beard, or disturb his banana. — Louise Rennison

Kaden leaned against the doorframe, running his fingers through his dark hair. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. His upper body was tanned and cut to perfection. A sparse patch of dark hair covered the center of his chest while a thin line ran down the middle of his stomach muscles. Oh, sweet baby Jesus, his stomach. She'd seen professional athletes on television with an eight-pack but hadn't thought normal people could actually achieve them. Her fingertips tingled with the urge to run her fingers over each of his pecs. — Stacey O'Neale

Leatherbound books are an expensive form of wallpaper, and yet every English nobleman's home seems to have had them. Their endless sets of the works of Cooper and Scott and Goethe, in finely tanned bindings with marbled endpapers, all end up with this sort of dealer sooner or later. I look through a set of Cooper and, without surprise, find uncut pages: these books were never actually read. — Paul Collins

Tally yanked her hand away and stuck it behind her back. "God. I am so sorry." She'd touched him. Felt the heat of his tanned skin, felt the crisp hairs at his groin ... felt ... oh, man.
"Nice try, but no cigar. Want to go for two out of three?"
Tally closed her eyes and blew out a breath. "Oh, this day just gets better and better."
"It's certainly looking up for me." With an amused glance, the pirate hitched his shorts back over the sharp angle of his hipbones. There'd been so sign of a tan line. — Cherry Adair

American actors are all muscular, tanned, white teeth and they have this indestructible confidence. We British are all ... Dare I say it? Pessimistic. — Max Irons

An answering smile drifted across his tanned face. What is mine, I intend to
keep. — Judith McNaught

So we said we weren't going there," he repeated, and she wasn't sure if it was disappointment or relief when he let her go and turned away.
"Actually," she said to his back. His bare back. Tanned. Sleek. Ripped with strength. "You said that we weren't going to go there. Because even though you're leaving and it was so awful, I still want to. Go there, that is. — Jill Shalvis

The best beauty advice I ever received is to keep skin hydrated and limit harsh exposure to the sun. If you are set on the tanned look, there are plenty of great creams that will give you a healthy-looking glow. — Erica Durance

To be successful, keep looking tanned, live in an elegant building (even if you're in the cellar), be seen in smart restaurants (even if you only nurse one drink) and if you borrow, borrow big. — Aristotle Onassis

Jesus must have had man hands. He was a carpenter, the Bible tells us. I know a few carpenters, and they have great hands, all muscled and worn, with nicks and callused pads from working wood together with hardware and sheer willpower. In my mind, Jesus isn't a slight man with fair hair and eyes who looks as if a strong breeze could knock him down, as he is sometimes depicted in art and film. I see him as sturdy, with a thick frame, powerful legs, and muscular arms. He has a shock of curly black hair and an untrimmed beard, his face tanned and lined from working in the sun. And his hands - hands that pounded nails, sawed lumber, drew in the dirt, and held the children he beckoned to him. Hands that washed his disciples' feet, broke bread for them, and poured their wine. Hands that hauled a heavy cross through the streets of Jerusalem and were later nailed to it. Those were some man hands. — Cathleen Falsani

The men's tanned faces, the faces of the women, bright with cosmetics, all suddenly appeared similar, as though wearing identical masks; hard, smiling, decorative, devoid of feeling. Not one of the seemed capable of expressing affection or pity or any of the softer emotions. They frightened her, these gay, hard, animated, worldly masks; she would always be a stranger among them, lost, ill-at-ease, out of place. — Anna Kavan

Rune's eyes danced and his lean tanned features lit with laughter. "You ... cooled the meat for me?"
"Rasputin cannot eat the chicken when it is too hot," she said, frowning at him. "It seemed logical that you would not be able to either. — Thea Harrison

Do you need me to take your temperature?" "What?" What the hell was he talking about? "What are you - " The words died on his lips, and his jaw dropped when Dex stepped into the doorway. "I said, do you need me to check your temperature, Mr. Brodie?" "Sweet Jesus." It took some effort for Sloane to close his mouth, but eventually he managed it. Dex strutted into the room dressed in nurse's scrubs made of white latex so tight it was all but painted on his body. The V-neck top exposed his collarbone and emphasized the curve of every muscle, from his lean sculpted torso, to his muscular legs, and the prominent outline of his hard dick. The white was a stark contrast against his tanned skin. Holy hell, his partner looked like something out of a porn magazine. Wait. — Charlie Cochet

[My father] was handsome and tanned and smelled wonderful, like a mix of the ocean and fresh-cut grass, except when he smoked his pipe, which also smelled wonderful, as how I thought wisdom must smell, when it curls about your head. — Carolyn Weber

We will have it tanned and stuffed and sell it for a fortune. A dwarf's cock has magical powers."
"I have been telling all the women that for years. — George R R Martin

His skin's so tanned he could be Turkish or something — David Mitchell

In this room hung with the trophies of culture, her story sounded melodramatic and rough. She felt like a squaw explaining how you tanned a deerskin by working brains into the bloody hide and then chewing it all over until it was soft. — Wallace Stegner

As I was walking to my car, a crow that was sitting on a wall suddenly scooped down and did number two on my head. Luckily I was holding a newspaper on my head at that time because sun was very strong and I didn't want to become tanned. So thanks god my blow-dried hair didn't get spoiled. People say it is a good amen when a bird does potty on you, but I am sorry, what's so good about your head being used as a toilet? — Moni Mohsin

When I saw them on the beach, perfectly tanned, or when I watched them twirling in the waves, I grasped the transcendental element in surf music. It was all about freedom from the rules of life, the whole of your being concentrated in the act of shooting the tube. For several years after that trip to L.A. I subscribed to Surfer magazine, and I practiced the Atlantic Ocean version of the sport, though only with my body and on rather tame waves. With my voice muffled by the water I would shout a line from "Surf City." To me, this was the ultimate fantasy of plenty: "two girls for every boy," except I sang it as "Two girls for every goy." Fortunately, Brian has survived the schizoid tendencies that seemed close to the surface when I met him. He's still performing and writing songs. But it was his emotional battle and the intersection of that struggle with the acid-dosed aesthetic of the sixties that produced his most astonishing music. — Richard Goldstein

I think bare legs in winter are idiotic. Unless your naked pins are toned, tanned and veinless, it's best to cover up. There is nothing more elegant in winter than dark tights worn with matching knee-length boots and a belted trench coat. — Joan Collins

I found Ivanka in the same place, gazing at the hill and jumping up and down. I had never seen her so excited, and chills went through my body when she turned to look at me. Her normally-tanned skin looked as pale as milk, and her eyes were radiant. "Look now, please!" she begged. I slowly turned and looked up at the hill. When I saw the figure, my heart whirled with fear and wonder but my brain struggled to process it. No one ever climbed that hill, but what I saw was unmistakable - there, among the rocks and brambles, was a young woman. — Mirjana Soldo

There are two Venices I know about and one of them is a hotel in Vegas. The other is an L.A. beach where pretty girls walk their dogs while wearing as little as possible and mutant slabs of tanned, posthuman beef sip iced steroid lattes and pump iron until their pecs are the size of Volkswagens. — Richard Kadrey

the sun had tanned her so that the rich velvety blackness of her skin glistened and she felt so much herself on those days of Carnival, soaked so deeply with a sense of her own beauty, that after the festival, she continued to keep her hair in the same fashion and wear her skin with the same pride, the result being that men took her for a foreign woman — Earl Lovelace

He looks a bit like Robert Pattinson - if you genetically spliced him with Buzz Lightyear. He has dark, quiffy hair and wide-spaced eyes, though his skin is tanned as opposed to diamond sparkly white. He has a very square jaw with a dimple in the center of his chin but alas no jet
65
THE SOUND
SARAH ALDERSON
pack. I note that his eyebrow is cocked and the smile on his face is half sneer, half smirk as if he's laughing at Eliza but she doesn't seem to realize.
I shake my head. I'm making a lot of assumptions here and the only two that I can safely claim are true are the ones about him being neither a vampire nor a space ranger. — Sarah Alderson

When the long, varnished buds of beech Point out beyond their reach, And tanned by summer suns Leaves of bright bryony turn bronze, And gossamer floats bright and wet From trees that are their own sunset, Spring, summer, autumn I come here, And what is there to fear? And yet I never lose the feeling That someone else behind is stealing Or else in front has disappeared; Though nothing I have seen or heard, Makes me still walk beneath these boughs With cautious step as in a haunted house. — Andrew Young

There he is, a woman's living, breathing fantasy, doing his slow, cocky turn, spiky black hair, darkly tanned chest, dimpled smile-killer smile-all in the package of Remington Tate. He's perfection itself, and a new surge of hormones sweeps through me as I do what the rest of the crowd does and take in his visual, so blatantly on display in those low riding boxing shorts and so strikingly sexy, he becomes the center of my attention. The center. Of my. World. — Katy Evans

Here's Doc Osborne, first Democratic governor. A lynch mob hung Big Nose George Parrott back in the 1870s. Doc got the body, skinned it, tanned the hide, made himself a medical bag and a pair a shoes. Wore the shoes to his inauguration. They don't make Democrats like that anymore. — Annie Proulx

The old man had been tanned by the light of too many beer signs, and it just goes to show that you can't live on three packs of Chesterfields and a fifth of bourbon a day without starting to drift far too fuckin' wide in the turns. — Daniel Woodrell

Tall, way taller than her five foot five frame, his body bulged with muscles covered in tanned skin. He possessed layered down brown hair with gold highlights, vivid turquoise eyes and chiseled features, including a strong straight nose
surprising because with a taunting mouth like his she expected he'd gotten it broken more than once in his life
a square chin, and wickedly full lips that now quirked into a grin.
-"Enjoying the view?" he taunted.
-"Deciding what part to carve off your body first," she replied."Do you have a name by the way? Or should I just refer to you as 'that asshole'?"
-"You can call me Remy, but when I get your thighs around my neck, feel free to call me God. It totally pisses Lucifer's brother off, which means brownie points for me. — Eve Langlais

The other one was filled with loud and obnoxious tourists. Always boasting on winning a sand castle competition and seeing who could get tanned first. What a whacky bunch of people. — Erica Sehyun Song

I get a good colour in summer but go really pale in winter, and it genuinely doesn't suit me, as people ask me if I'm ill. As well as making me look a bit better, I often have to be tanned in the middle of winter to do a show or programme, so I've road-tested every fake tan on the market. — Deirdre O'Kane

And he has to be handsome, unbelievably handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong, square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes. He has to be clever and very wealthy but hard-working. He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and rugged. — Kristen Ashley

Sooo, I'm tired of people thinking I'm a freak. I know you can't relate to that but -"
"Get over it already, will ya?" Candace stood. "You're not Smellody anymore. You're pretty. You can get hot guys now. Tanned ones with good vision. Not geeky hose jousters." She shut the window. "Don't you ever want to use your lips as something other than veneer protectors?"
Melody felt a familiar pinch behind her eyes. Her throat dried. Her eyes burned. And then they came. Like salty little paratroopers, tears descended en masse. She hated Candace thought she had never made out with a boy. But how could she convince a seventeen-year-old with more dates than a fruitcake that Randy the Starbucks cashier (aka Scarbucks, because of his acne scars) was a great kisser? She couldn't. — Lisi Harrison

having a breakdown I might as well play along with it. I might snap out of it more quickly that way. I didn't know anything about hallucinations and how they were caused but I guessed that eventually you came back to earth. All I had to do was wait. 'How is Angela?' I asked conversationally. 'Fine,' said the other Dervla. 'She's going out with Joe Magellan.' 'Joe Magellan? The guy from Operations?' She nodded. 'He's Deputy Head of Operations now,' she said. 'A rising star in the company. Well, a risen star really. I doubt very much he'll progress any further. But he's doubled his salary and his bonus in the last couple of years.' 'Lucky Angela.' I tried to keep a certain bitterness out of my voice. I'd fancied Joe Magellan myself for a while. But he was way out of my league with his toned and tanned body and his come-to-bed eyes. I looked at the other girl. The other me. Had she fancied Joe Magellan too? 'Angela's not so lucky,' Dervla continued. — Sheila O'Flanagan

But my attention's elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person - only belongs to him
Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea.
My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I'm about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me - hair tangled and wet - clothes twisted and clinging - frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude's tanned strong arms still wrapped around me.
I release myself from Jude's grip, but it's too late. Damen's already seen me.
Already moved on.
Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat.
No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place. — Alyson Noel

Do you know who I am, little girl?" roared Lucifer, smoke drifting from his ears, his complexion turning from tanned to beet red - never a good sign. "A pain in my ass who has messed up my morning," she shouted back with a lack of fear Mictain found entertaining even as he prepared to protect her from Lucifer's wrath. "I was planning on having some great wake up sex. Instead, you show up, without even a coffee, and piss me off. — Eve Langlais

From Wishful Thinking...Sydney's first siting of her soon to be love interest, "as I gazed across the fire the hairs on the back of my neck began to tickle and stand on end. I watched as he gripped his beer bottle with a strong, sun tanned hand. My eyes followed up his arm and even through the flames I could see strong muscles rippling beneath the thin t-shirt he was wearing. As my eyes continued up, I saw a strong jaw, big smile, deep brown eyes, and short dark brown hair, which looked freshly cut. Not too short though, just enough to put your hands through and tug a little. — S.P. Wilcox

Arobynn looked exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him: a fine-boned aristo face, silky auburn hair that grazed his shoulders, and a deep-blue tunic of exquisite make, unbuttoned with an assumed casualness at the top to reveal the toned chest beneath. No sign at all of a necklace or chain. His long, muscled arm was draped across the back of the bench, and his tanned, scar-flecked fingers drummed a beat in time with the hall music. — Sarah J. Maas

Back then I had muscles on my muscles, I was tattooed and tanned, wore the tightest of jeans to accentuate my snakelike waist and the whitest of tight vests to accentuate my muscle packed torso. To top it all off, I had the nicest piece of eye-candy on my arm in the form of a stunning, long-legged, mini skirted blonde. — Stephen Richards

She spotted him about twenty yards away at a table that sat among a stand of river birch, its four legs submerged in an inch or two of water. Clustered around the table were ten or so of the most wild-looking, barely clothes, heavily muscled men and women she'd ever seen. And at the head, standing on a branch a foot about them all was Parish. He was barefoot and tanned, and wearing only a pair of faded jeans, which rested just below his hipbones. His hair was wild and the scar near his mouth winked in the sunlight. Julia's gaze moved covetously over every inch of him. His narrow waist and ripped stomach that widened to a broad chest, powerful shoulders and lean, muscular arms. he looked ready to spring. And the muscles in Julia's belly turned to liquid fire as she watched him watch her. — Alexandra Ivy

A tanned skin is something more than respectable, and perhaps olive is a fitter color than white for a man,
a denizen of the woods. "The pale white man!" I do not wonder that the African pitied him. — Henry David Thoreau

The man was of fine figure, swarthy, and stern in aspect; and he showed in profile a facial angle so slightly inclined as to be almost perpendicular. He wore a short jacket of brown corduroy, newer than the remainder of his suit, which was a fustian waistcoat with white horn buttons, breeches of the same, tanned leggings, and a straw hat overlaid with black glazed canvas. At his back he carried by a looped strap a rush basket, from which protruded at one end the crutch of a hay-knife, a wimble for hay-bonds being also visible in the aperture. His measured, springless walk was the walk of the skilled countryman as distinct from the desultory shamble of the general labourer; while in the turn and plant of each foot there was, further, a dogged and cynical indifference personal to himself, showing its presence even in the regularly interchanging fustian folds, now in the left leg, now in the right, as he paced along. — Thomas Hardy

I deliberately ignored the sight of lean brown body cutting through the aqua water, glistening powerful arms dipping slow and steady in perfect rhythm with the strong kick of his long tanned legs.
I was going to have to work on my ignoring technique.
- Tim trying to ignore Jack in the swimming pool. — Josh Lanyon

A blank isn't the same. He remembered holding the book, feeling the history of the leather cover someone had tanned and stretched and cut to fit. The paper that someone had laboriously filled by hand and sewn into the binding. Years, heavy on the pages. Morgan had been reading a copy of it. An original. It felt like the old monk's story was part of his own.
But when he read it in the blank, it was just words, and it had no power to carry him away. — Rachel Caine

Charlie touched her face gently with long, tanned fingers. "Sometimes I don't know half of what you say, but I'm damn glad I get to hear it."
"I bet you say that to all the mortals," she joked, then winced as the pain shot through her again.
"You've been hurt," he said, as if noticing for the first time all the blood and gore and exposed body goo.
"Yeah, but it only hurts when I laugh."
"Then don't laugh," he murmured, finishing the old routine as if he'd been born into Vaudeville. His hands gently probed the edges of the gash. — Cheryl Sterling

We change into our bathing suits, both of us pale like larvae, and then we walk down to the water. — Melissa Bank

But none of them are you." Luka pointed to his eye again. "We match. Why would I want anyone else? Nobody else if you. Long brown hair, blue eyes and tanned skinned beautiful you. — Tillie Cole

When I was in my 20s, I thought that being known for 'Swimming Pool' was kind of a burden. Like, 'OK, everyone thinks I am this tanned bimbo,' and I was having problems coping with that image. — Ludivine Sagnier

Crossing my arms, I glanced around. "You push too hard and the way you talk makes me feel bad. I don't want to defend my parents, but you force me to by making fun of them."
"That's no excuse to lose out on a little fun with a hot guy who's got cash to pay for a big lunch."
"It's true that you're hot."
"I could flex my muscles if you need a little extra incentive."
Grinning, I glanced at his strong tanned arms. "Sure, why shouldn't I feel you up since you've got me pinned."
"Oh, don't play the victim, nerd. My crotch is right here in case you need to take a shot and make a run for it. — Bijou Hunter

Day by day as autumn tanned the valley around us, now with bright frost weather, now with rain carrying the first chill of winter, my father stayed in the dusk of his grief. That sandbagged mood, I understand now, can only have been a kind of battle fatigue-the senses blasted around in him by that morning of death and the thousands of inflicting minutes it was followed by. — Ivan Doig

Zelda was very beautiful and was tanned a lovely gold colour and her hair was a beautiful dark gold and she was very friendly. Her hawk's eyes were clear and calm. I knew everything was all right and was going to turn out well in the end when she leaned forward and said to me, telling me her great secret, 'Ernest, don't you think Al Jolson is greater than Jesus?'
Nobody thought anything of it at the time. It was only Zelda's secret that she shared with me, as a hawk might share something with a man. But hawks do not share. Scott did not write anything any more that was good until after he knew that she was insane. — Ernest Hemingway,

I was tanned, happy, and blowing a kiss to Cary, who'd playacted the role of a highfashion
photographer by calling out ridiculous encouragements. Beautiful, dahling. Show me sassy. Show me sexy. Brilliant.
Show me catty ... rawr ... — Sylvia Day

I would have normally tried to ignore the display of tanned arms and glimpse of toned midriff this flailing about revealed, but, hey, I have hormones like the next girl. Some things in life are worth seeing. — Joss Stirling

He was stunning,incredible,unlike anything she had ever seen before.Around her,the crowd noise dissipated to a dull hum,but she barely noticed.Her gaze was slowly traveling the length of him,taking in his predatory stance and powerful muscle and tanned skin. — Laura Wright

I went through a real punk stage-I had braids, red hair, pink hair, green hair, I cut it into a Mohawk, the lot. Then about five years ago, I dyed it dark and stayed out of the sun to get pale, because I hated looking like everyone else, all blonde hair and tanned skin. — Katie McGrath

He gripped her hips, and standing up, slowly pushed volumes of silk with him. Blue fabric puffed and pillowed between them. His hand traced a slow caress the length of her from knee to hip. Edward's nostrils flared, as did his eyes, when his roving hand slipped behind her, grappling bare skin. She quivered from tantalizing male touch exploring forbidden flesh. Lydia read Edward's face, the flush of tanned skin and mouth unable to close, as knowledge seeped into his brain: she'd said her vows, eaten dinner with the utmost decorum, and chattered politely with all and sundry in this secret state of undress. Edward groaned and jammed her body hard against his. "You're naked under your skirt. — Gina Conkle

She started walking toward me and perfect white teeth caught her full bottom lip between them. I'd fantasized about those lips way too many times. She'd barely covered up her long tanned legs with a pair of shorts that made me want to go to church this Sunday just to thank God for creating her. — Abbi Glines

They were average specimens of national manhood, slim and gaunt with deeply tanned skin from riding in jeeps and on motorcycles. — Viet Thanh Nguyen

The younger man sitting next to her, her son perhaps, who looked to be in his forties, had a bar code tattooed on the back of his tanned neck, as if he were a supermarket product. — Liane Moriarty

Ox Cart Man

In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hoped by hand at the forge's fire.

He walks by his ox's head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,

and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again. — Donald Hall

My father is standing at the sink wearing a too-tight long-sleeved red T-Shirt, a pair of too-high jeans and sporting the type of orange glow that belongs only on Chernobyl victims. Plus his hair looks like an oil spill.
'Hey you,' he says, washing what looks to be some carrots under the sink. Are they carrots or are they parsnips reflecting the sheen of my father's tangerine skin? Hard to tell.
'You've fake tanned yourself again,' I say - it's a statement, not a question. 'Too much?' he says, innocently. 'I just didn't want to be one of those pasty office workers and I thought it wouldn't hurt to back up last week's application with another hit.'
'Dad, you look-'
'Sun kissed?'
'Radioactive. And what the hell happened to your hands?'
- Cat — Rebecca Sparrow

This is so dumb - once time I spray-tanned before a race, and I didn't shower, and I sweated the whole thing off on my car. It was so bad, I told a fan I would never do it again. — Amber Cope

I looked at him, tipping down the coarse wine like a man who expects to put up with worse. I felt I was looking my last at the lad I still remembered. I was right. When I saw him again, it was five years later, and not in Athens. He was tanned like the thong of a javelin, and as tough as the shaft, a soldier who looked to have been cradled in a shield; but the oddest change, I think, was to see in one always so mindful of convention that careless outlandishness you find in irregular troops of great renown; men who seem to say, "Take it or leave it, you who never went where we have been. We are the only judges of one another. — Mary Renault

I am death. My touch brings it. Where Kat Forrest was a tanned, lovely, blond-haired princess of life, I was a dark-haired, pale-skinned angel of death. Her green eyes represented life; my bluer ones represented winter and the end of that life. Worse — Robert J. Crane

Red eyes, clogged vessels, tanned cells and septum holes,
She came up to me with an ashtray, and a bunch of tobacco rolls,
I mean, how can I fill the gap that you've created??
How could I switch the clock back to the past, for the time I have wasted?
I have gone a sedate now; the heart has stopped pumping zeal into my head,
And for the hole in my heart, which is so dead now, which has run out of life now,
I carry the loads of moments that you've endowed. — Nishikant

We spent afternoons kicking around in the sand, picking through the seaweed for shells, making headdresses of washed-up fishing ropes and hats from Styrofoam cups. Beach rats, we were called.

We stopped brushing our hair, and it hung in tangles spun by the salt air. We sprayed Sun-In across our heads and let it turn our hair orange in patches. Our skin peeled, and we didn't much care.

We woke up to the feel of sand in our sheets. We covered ourselves in baby oil and iodine and let the sun bake our skin. We smelled like Love's Baby Soft perfume, like summer all year long. We were tanned, with freckles across our noses. — Ilie Ruby

Time had past indeed: it had overtaken him and gone ahead. It had left him hopelessly behind with a few poor gifts: the iron grey hair, the heavy fatigue of the tanned face, two scars, a pair of tarnished shoulderstraps; one of those steady, reliable men who are the raw material of great reputations, one of those unaccounted lives that are buried without drums and trumpets under the foundations of monumental success. — Joseph Conrad

Not that the man needed clothes. God meant for that piece of perfection to have nothing masking the luscious, tanned flesh stretched taut over beautiful muscles. — Rena Marks

He had sleepless eyes, his mouth a little swollen, the deeply tanned skin somehow burnished. Kestrel thought that she, too, must look like this: polished by desire, the way a river stone holds a luster from having been made so smooth. — Marie Rutkoski

In the mid-1980s, on a spring Sunday morning, a Volvo stationwagon parked in Brunswick Street. A young couple got out. She was trim, blonded, tanned. He was already broadening in the midsection, sockless, short and hairy legs ending in boatshoes. From a restraining chair in the back seat, he unloaded a child, complaining, flailing. They took it into a cafe.

They were going to have brunch.

The old Brunswick Street was dead, Brunchwick Street born. There was no turning back. — Peter Temple

He was just my Danny then. Now he's tanned and vaguely muscular, or so it looks through his jacket. Like a 'super' version of the old Danny. Danny +. — Kerry Heavens

Are you lost?"
I turned around. "Excuse me?"
Two guys were sprawled on a bench close to the sidewalk. The one who had spoken wore tattered shorts and a colonial three-cornered hat-nothing else. He had wide shoulders and long, muscular legs. He stretched dramatically, then lay his tanned arm along the back of the bench. "You look lost," he said. "Can I help you find something?"
"Uh, no, thanks. I was just looking."
He grinned. "Me too."
"Oh?" I glanced around, thinking I'd missed something. "At what?"
He and his friend burst out laughing.
Way to go, Lauren, I thought. He had been looking at me! — Elizabeth Chandler

Unlike Ronan, Adam's Aglionby jumper was second-hand, but he'd taken great care to be certain it was impeccable. He was slim and tall, with dusty hair unevenly cropped above a fine-boned, tanned face. He was a sepia photograph. — Maggie Stiefvater

Magnus? Magnus Bane?"
"That would be me." The man blocking the doorway was as tall and thin as a rail, his hair a crown of dense back spikes. Clary guessed from the curse of his sleepy eyes and the gold tone of his evenly tanned skin that he was part Asian. He wore jeans and a black shirt covered with dozens of metal buckles. His eyes were crusted with a raccoon mask of charcoal glitter, his lips painted a dark shade of blue. He raked a ring-laden hand through his spiked hair and regarded them thoughtfully. "Children of the Nephilim," he said. "Well, well. I don't recall inviting you. I must have been drunk. — Cassandra Clare

Silence. At this point, I expected Corey to say something like, "Jen? I don't know. Jen who?" or "Jen? I have a cousin named Jen, I think, who goes to Georgia Tech," or "Jen? Like Jen Aniston?" or something that basically shows he has no clue what I'm talking about. But silence is not good. Silence is almost as good as saying, "Oh, Jen. She's just one of those tanned strumpets you've been imagining that I'm out clubbing with every night. Only she's not imaginary after all. The only part you got wrong was her name. — Lauren Barnholdt

In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. — Joseph Conrad

spectacularly chiseled tanned chest. He said how much he appreciated us coming down and helping out with the lab and said that maybe he would run into me again. Now I have always considered myself to be pretty cool and unflappable. But I gotta say, I couldn't even form words. I just grinned like an idiot and could barely spit out, "You're — Philippa Levine

Garret picked up his board and turned to me, waiting. And for about the hundredth time this afternoon, my stomach gave a weird little jolt. His hair shone in the sun, and his sculpted arms and shoulders were highly noticeable without his shirt. As was the lean, tanned, washboard stomach and chest. The boy definitely worked out or did something strenuous in his free time. One did not get a body like that from sitting around. — Julie Kagawa

No picture I saw online truly captured the effect of that tanned, well-structured face in person. Absolutely none. His face is walk-straight-into-a-wall stunning, and I won't even dwell on his body, but now I understand why his bed is the most coveted spot in town. — Katy Evans

I can't take a well-tanned person seriously. — Cleveland Amory

I grew up in a predominantly Caucasian community, and most of my friends had blonde hair and blue eyes. So I was always straightening my hair, wearing colored contacts, and I never tanned, if I could help it. — Shay Mitchell

He was a crusty old bastard, dressed like my uncle in ancient denim coveralls, espadrilles and beret. He had a leathery, tanned and windblown face, hollow cheeks, and the tiny broken blood vessels on nose and cheeks that everyone seemed to have from drinking so much of the local Bordeaux. — Anthony Bourdain

I don't know anything about life. I only know how to run."
Daniel reached his tanned and callused hands out to her. "Then grab hold of me and hang on. We're both scared about where this will end up, and when the hurting will come. If the hurting comes, it will be bad, I already know that. But hang on to me, and we'll find out together, all right? — Jennifer Ashley

When I get in the sun I get very tanned. You can't tell me from the native fishermen in Hawaii or Mexico. — Desi Arnaz

With forbidden, seething Havana waiting to open up nearby, South Beach is a riot of loose luxe and easy sleazy, where dancing the night away amid hundreds of tanned, undulating bodies is a standard prelude to hot, anonymous sex. — Maureen Orth

I used to spray tan a lot when I was a teenager. The last time I got spray-tanned was for the Golden Globes. And I was like, 'I love spray-tanning so much.' I still really like it. But it definitely makes me look like I have leprosy, after a point. — Emma Stone

Can I touch you?"
His lashes closed, resting on the tops of his tanned, sculpted cheeks as his smile grew broad. "You don't have to ask." I reached out immediately but paused within inches of contact. He must've sensed my hesitation because he reopened his eyes. "What's wrong?"
I swallowed, utterly overwhelmed. "I don't know where to start."
Mason's gaze warmed . He wrapped strong warm fingers around my wrist and drew my palm forward, leading me where he wanted my hand to follow. When he set it on the center of his chest, right over his heart and pressed my flesh to his as if fingerprinting my soul to his. I blinked back gratified tears.
"Start here. No one's ever touched me here before. — Linda Kage

Time had erased me a little, rubbed me out. I had faded like a photograph buried under soil. I was tanned and older, weathered and experienced and fat. I was what we all become, a by-product of the torture of ourselves. — David Whitehouse

Nothing helps your partner keep his mind on Jesus more than having a sign of His love tanned on your primary erogenous zones. — Scott B. Pruden

The layers of his gleaming black hair were thick and neatly cut, and his tanned face glowed from a precise shave. He had a long, straight nose and a voluptuary's mouth.
And he had a pair of remarkable blue eyes that approximated no other shade she had ever seen. Except, perhaps, at the shop where the local chemist made batches of ink by boiling Indigofera plants and copper sulfate together for days until they formed a blue so dark and deep that it approached violet. And yet his eyes did not have the angelic quality one might associate with such a color. They were shrewd, seasoned, as if he had gazed far too often at an unsavory side of life that she herself had never seen. — Lisa Kleypas

It doesn't matter what she looks like. It doesn't matter if she's long or short legged. It doesn't matter if she's pale or tanned, if her hair is black or brown or red or blond. It doesn't matter if she's pretty or not. It matters that she feels the sun on her skin. — Nicola Yoon

It wasn't beautiful people like Celeste who were drawing Jane's eyes, but ordinary people and the beautiful ordinariness of their bodies. A tanned forearm with a tattoo of the sun reaching out across the counter at the service station. The back of an older's man neck in a queue at the supermarket. Calf muscles and collarbones. It was the strangest thing. She was reminder of her father, who years ago had an operation on his sinuses that returned the sense of smell he hadn't realized he'd lost. The simplest smells sent him into rhapsodies of delight. He kept sniffing Jane's mother's neck and saying dreamily, I'd forgotten your mother's smell! I didn't know I'd forgotten it! — Liane Moriarty

Long past sunset an old blind woman sat on a camp-stool with her back to the stone wall of the Union of London and Smith's Bank, clasping a brown mongrel tight in her arms and singing out loud, not for coppers, no, from the depths of her gay wild heart - her sinful, tanned heart - for the child who fetches her is the fruit of sin, and should have been in bed, curtained, asleep, instead of hearing in the lamplight her mother's wild song, where she sits against the Bank, singing not for coppers, with her dog against her breast. — Virginia Woolf