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Quote by Alana Albertson

“His lips were sweet and gentle. As their mouths moved softly against each other, her heart swelled. Oh, this... this was divine. His tongue gently pushed against her lips as if it wanted to gain entry. She had assumed that this would've been a quick, obligatory lips-only kiss, but she was pleasantly surprised she was wrong. She wanted more, more of him, more of his heat. She opened her mouth for him, and damn. He tasted like the rum from the ponche, and he smelled like freshly chopped firewood. Adrenaline pulsed through her body as he explored her mouth and pressed his hard body against her soft one.”

Quote by Alana Albertson

Book:Kiss Me, Mi Amor
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Kiss Me, Mi Amor

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Alana Albertson

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“Lovely..." he murmured in an enticing baritone that skittered across her nerve endings and induced her abdomen to clench in response. The peculiar salutation snapped her into action, and she whirled to face him. Nervously, she clutched at the towel, desperately striving to shield herself, but his probing examination slithered over her like a tangible caress, lingering on her lips, her breasts, the juncture between her thighs.”

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“His lips grazed her earlobe---deliberately, she was sure---his hand rested on the small of her back, and she was overwhelmed by having him so near. With all the attention leveled their way, they were awkwardly conspicuous in a fashion she hated, so she deigned to act as normally as possible. She gripped the mallet, but just when she would have attempted her initial swing, Mr. Stevens reached around her, effectively trapping her in the circle of his arms. "Permit me to instruct you," he said, and chills sped down her spine. "The game goes like this." Warm and magnetic, the entire front of his body was flattened against the back of hers, and she could feel the solid plane of his chest, the curve of his abdomen as he arched over her, the strength of his legs as he balanced her between them. His groin was directly against her posterior, and the sensation produced an exhilarating swirl of butterflies that cascaded through her stomach. Wrapping her small hands in his large ones, he controlled the arc of the stick as it landed with a firm thump, and their ball careened down the hillside. "Very nice," he murmured, though she was quite sure he wasn't referring to the ball or the swing at all.”

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“Whoa, Tornado. Where’s the fire?” She should’ve said, “In the stove,” just to be annoying. But that would only be half-true. Because the fire was right here, between them. In the air, popping like static. In his eyes, gone dark and intense. Her breath caught when she realized he was still holding her arms. “I was gonna shower. You’re all fresh, and I probably smell like trail dirt and river water.” “You smell amazing.” He spoke low, and she gave in to desire, her body arching toward him. “Like always.” Finn’s hands fisted in the hem of her hoodie, and he tugged her closer, bringing their hips together. She gasped. “Like a garden after a thunderstorm.”

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“Rohan was staring into the flames and savoring a brandy. The sensual way he cupped the rounded snifter in his palm caused a completely unexpected shudder of wild longing to run the length of her entire body, for his tender hold on that globelike glass brought back hazy memories of his attentions last night to her breasts. And when he raised the glass to his lips and took a slow, leisurely sip, Kate had to close her eyes for a moment to steady herself. Dear God. His butler announced her in a formal tone. "Your Grace: Miss Madsen." Kate flicked her eyes open, but her cheeks were already burning when the duke looked over. He cast her a dangerous smile, and a giddy weakness crept up her body, starting at her knees. She tightened them reflexively and gave her quivering legs the silent order to move, and by all means, to forget the feel of his forbidden caresses running up her thighs.”

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“Your drawings are brilliant, Miss Makepeace. You're quite talented." "My drawings are brilliant?" What about my smile? What about my eyes? "Yes," he said. "Detailed, accurate, yet still singular and strangely..." he looked upward for a moment, seeking a clean slate for his thought, then returned his eyes to her. "... passionate." He all but purred that last word, his eyes dancing with mirth, and for the life of her, she didn't know what to say. Susannah studied him warily instead, since his face was the one part of his body she hadn't yet sketched in vivid detail. His features were too strong, perhaps, to be considered classically handsome; his face was a bit too long and angular, like a diamond, his nose slightly arched. Light brows, light lashes, and those disconcerting eyes. But in the midst of all those angles, his mouth was a work of art; wide, sensitively curved, indisputably masculine. And of course, the rest of him was beautifully made, too. Almost overwhelmingly so. God help her, she could feel color setting fresh fire to her cheeks at the memory.”

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Book:Bluebird Notebook Journal Blue Bird for Kids Teens Women School 8.5 x 11 College Ruled | Really Cute Notebooks
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“Her silence didn't seem to bother him. "Your drawings are brilliant, Miss Makepeace. You're quite talented." "My drawings are brilliant?" What about my smile? What about my eyes? "Yes," he said. "Detailed, accurate, yet still singular and strangely..." he looked upward for a moment, seeking a clean slate for his thought, then returned his eyes to her. "... passionate." He all but purred that last word, his eyes dancing with mirth, and for the life of her, she didn't know what to say. Susannah studied him warily instead, since his face was the one part of his body she hadn't yet sketched in vivid detail. His features were too strong, perhaps, to be considered classically handsome; his face was a bit too long and angular, like a diamond, his nose slightly arched. Light brows, light lashes, and those disconcerting eyes. But in the midst of all those angles, his mouth was a work of art; wide, sensitively curved, indisputably masculine. And of course, the rest of him was beautifully made, too. Almost overwhelmingly so. God help her, she could feel color setting fresh fire to her cheeks at the memory.”

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“Her eyes lowered then to his softly smiling mouth, drawn to it as though his secrets could be found there, or perhaps because it was the most forgiving aspect of his face; certainly at the moment it was easier to bear than his searching eyes. And there her gaze lingered... a little longer perhaps, than it should have. Because she was a woman, after all. And it was a splendid mouth. She watched the smile fade from it. Cautiously, she returned her eyes to his. What she saw there landed as cleanly as a lightning strike at the base of her spine. The blue had darkened nearly to black. There was a thrilling tension in his face; his eyes skimmed her mouth, hovered... considering. A delicious, breath-stealing heat unfurled through her limbs.”

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Book:Beauty and the Spy
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“It was, she said to herself, the single most exciting few minutes of my entire life. The first time I've ever felt like that. The only time I've ever wanted a man more than I've wanted my solitude. The most sensual and stimulating physical contact I've ever experienced — and all of that despite the fact that we were in public. And you were drunk.”

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Book:Never Kiss a Man in a Christmas Jumper
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