Quotes by "Sarah Mayberry"

She was an idiot. An adorable, gorgeous, feisty, funny, sweet, sexy idiot.

You realise you’re going to owe me dinner after this, right?” “How does McDonald’s sound?” “Inadequate.

If I let you go are you going to hit me again?” “What do you think?” “Then I’m not going to let you go.

She didn’t sound overjoyed. She didn’t sound even slightly joyed.

Put me down, I’m too heavy.” “You’re small enough to fit in my pocket.

He couldn’t just come right out with it, could he? No, that would scare her off. He had to be subtle, build up to it. Explain himself. “I love you.” Of course, straight to the point was also an effective strategy.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Always have, probably always will. Happy?” she said. He stopped when he was standing mere inches away. Reaching out, he captured her face in his hands and smoothed his thumbs across her cheekbones to clear her tears. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that,” he said.

Is there somebody out there? Amy, is that you?” her mother called. “No. Tell me this isn’t happening.” Quinn rested his forehead against hers. “Has she got a wiretap on you or something? I swear, she’s like a walking hard-on detector.” Amy bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Quinn levered himself up on his arms. “Mrs. P., if you value your life, you’ll go back inside and turn off the light right now.

Three Denises wobbled in front of her, all of them watching her with fond concern. “You’re a sweetie. I appreciate you cheering me on from the sidelines. But I think I need to go to the bathroom now and throw up.

Just leave me alone, I want to be alone,” she said when Jack tried to open the car door. She hit the lock, and wound the window up. Since the roof was down, it was a fairly pointless exercise.

Forgive me for being the stupidest man on the planet?” “Careful. You’re talking about the man I love.

Excuse me, your attention please.” He waited until the whole floor had stopped what it was doing and turned to face him. For a split second his impulse control kicked in, but by then his mouth was fully engaged. “For the record, Claire Marsden and I are not having sex.

Don’t freak out, I’m getting into the bed,” he said.

Sadly, however, the sight of her generous D cups no longer sparked an ounce of interest from Little Sam, the man in charge of social activities.

Later she would think about how he'd snuck up on her so silently. The man was on crutches - what was he, a ninja or something?

Suddenly he caught his reflection in the mirror behind her. His face was twisted into a dark scowl, and he was standing there naked, with a boner, and another man’s business card in his hand. He looked like a dick.

He foll0wed her as she crossed to the four-station apparatus. His attention was glued to her butt the whole way. realizing what he was doing, he snapped his gaze away and checked to make sure no one had noticed. Nope. They were all too busy staring at Jamie's butt.

Poppy: What makes you think I'm having dinner with you? Jake: Because you can't sit in your room and eat ice cream and chips two nights in a row. You'll get scurvy. You need vitamin C.

What exactly did having needs mean, while he was on the subject? That Delaney needed to have sex? that she craved an orgasm? And if that were the case, why couldn't she just take care of the matter on her won in the privacy of her home without putting him through all this torture? Anything was preferable to the thought of her being with Jake.

One of the best lovers in Hollywood. What would a title like that encompass exactly? she wondered. Technique? Enthusiasm? Or was it more about equipment?