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Quote by Kristen Callihan

“Were men's knees supposed to be sexy? Their calves? One sight of Lucian's bony knee, delineated muscled thigh, and hard calf, lightly dusted with dark curling hair, made me want to reach out and stroke his leg, creep my hand under those shorts to cup what I knew would be firm and meaty and... damn. Keeping my hands to myself and my mind out of his pants was going to be difficult. Which was weird; I loved men and sex, but I'd never been preoccupied by either. Until him.”

Quote by Kristen Callihan

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Make It Sweet

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Kristen Callihan

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“She bent down to smell a red rose when a deep male voice interrupted her, causing her heart to leap into her throat. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Ay, Dios mio. Her pulse ratcheted back down. Did he really just quote Romeo and Juliet? What a player. She looked up. Whoa---sexy dead mariachi alert! Was she dreaming? Her heart stuttered. A tall man with a strong jawline and twinkling dark eyes framed by impossibly long eyelashes stood before her. He was definitely handsome, even though his face was obscured by makeup. His charro suit seemed painted on his muscular body. He winked at her, which caused her to grin unabashedly. The shiny silver buttons on the sides of his tight black pants outlined his legs. She couldn't help but stare at his strong thighs... and that huge bulge in his pants. Breathe, Julieta, breathe.”

“And you shouldn't be---" I say, looking up and taking in his appearance. So damn hot. My throat catches. Words do not form. He's sexier than the ceviche I'm planning on making---slick and smooth, cool and hot. Confession: I may have a problem binge-watching rom-coms and steamy romances, hoping for my own meet-cute. If they happen in the movies, why not in real life? When I'm not in the kitchen, I watch them all, inhaling the happy endings---from Sleepless in Seattle to Pretty Woman to Sixteen Candles, the latter so politically incorrect and cringe-worthy today but made up for with the drool-worthy hotness that is Jake Ryan. Something about this guy reminds me of Keanu Reeves, with his razor-sharp cheekbones, mildly unkempt black hair that nearly touches his shoulders, two-day scruff, penetrating hazel eyes, and, from what I can tell---dressed in a casual but elegant fitted black suit---a buff body. I may have developed a slight Keanu obsession after I saw him in Always Be My Maybe, the story of him being the temporary love interest of an ambitious chef. Even though he played a douchebag version of himself, he was funny and hot as hell. Normally, I only salivate over recipes, but this feast for the eyes is clearly an exception.”

“The warrior who went by the moniker "the Wolf" was a favorite subject of the troubadours of late. Every other song they sang was about him, praising his courage and prowess in battle as well as his handsome face and hair that was "black as sin". According to those songs, the Wolf was a warrior considered as intelligent and deadly as the wolf he was named for. But he was actually a lone wolf in those songs, because he spoke little and aligned himself with no particular clan, instead offering his sword arm for a price. He was a mercenary, but an honorable one. It was said he served only those with a just cause.”

“Claray had not been made to spend her life on her knees in prayer. The lass had too much passion in her for that. So, he would marry her, reclaim his name, title and home and set to work filling her belly with bairns. The thought made him smile, and imagining all the ways to accomplish the task of filling her belly, all the positions and places he could do so, helped pass the time as they continued their ride through the long day and the evening that followed.”

“Without Claray blocking the view, he could see that the beast was a good six feet long, perhaps four or five inches short of three feet high at the shoulders, and looked like he weighed a good ten stone. He'd never seen a wolf so big. But it had some damned fine coloring, Its fur was a combination of gray and white with black on the tip of the tail and around the face and ears. "I guess 'tis fitting," Roderick said suddenly. "The name?" Conall asked with amazement, thinking there was no damned way he was calling the great beast Lovey. "Nay. That she has a wolf," Roderick explained, and when he didn't comprehend right away added, "She married you, the Wolf, and she has one fer a pet. 'Tis fitting.”

“Do ye often howl at wolves?" "Only Lovey," Claray answered. "He's the only wolf I ken." "Ye ken Conall, and he's the Wolf." "Aye," Conall agreed aloud, and then leaned down to whisper by her ear, "And ye howled for me on our weddin' night. Hopefully this night I can make ye howl again. Finally." Claray stiffened in surprise and then felt heat suffuse her face as his hand crept up her waist where it was resting, and his thumb brushed over the bottom of one breast.”