Tracy Anne Warren > Quotes

“Count this as a mere taste, sweetheart, of all the pleasure I can give you. Marry me and let me show you more. Be mine, and I'll take you on a journey the likes of which you've ever only imagined. ~~ Adam to Mallory”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed

“Am I so desperate I must accept any gentleman who is not a villain or a gargoyle?”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Wedding Trap

“Additionally, Adam’s room had an absolutely massive bed with a plump feather tick that she knew they would put to good use.

“Shall we christen it now?” Adam whispered in her ear, his arms stealing around her from behind in spite of the footmen who were still busy bringing up their luggage. Skimming his lips over her cheek, he playfully caressed her nape in a way that never failed to drive her wild. “I could shoo them all out and lock the door. We wouldn’t even have to take off our clothes, I could just tumble you down and toss up your skirts. What do you say, wife, shall I tup you now, or would you rather wait until later?”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed

“To give herself a measure of credible autonomy, she had decided to invent a husband. Then, in a subsequent flash of inspiration, she had just as quickly killed him off.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Accidental Mistress

“W-what was that?” Rather than responding, he lifted a brow, schooling his features into a calmness that hid the violent need still coursing through his body. “I-I mean I know what it was,” she went on in a breathless voice that made shivers run down his spine. “But why? Why did you k-kiss me?” She looked utterly and completely bewildered. “Because, my sweet,” he drawled in a smooth tone, “you looked as if you needed to be.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed

“Well, if it’s an order,” she said on a gentle tease, warmed by his words in spite of herself. “You know, for such a cerebral man, you certainly have powerful physical appetites.”

His lips curved in a seductive smile. “Of course, I do. I’m a Byron, after all. It’s in my blood.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Bed and the Bachelor

“Every damsel in distress deserves a hero...”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Her Highness and the Highlander

“And then there was the expansive garden that ran the length of the rear of the house- lush with color and fragrances that seemed to burst from every branch and bloom. Whoever had designed it possessed a keen eye for beauty, each plant chosen with obvious care and an affinity for nature.
She'd even acquired a new cat from its depths, a stray orange tom she found wandering among the hydrangea bushes one morning. An offered dish of milk and he'd been her bosom beau ever since. She'd decided to call him Ranunculus because Buttercup was far too feminine a name for such a large and impressive male. She gazed at him now where he slept in the sunshine, basking like a small potentate in the heat of the day.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“It is usually easier to see what lies on the surface of a person rather than taking the time and attention to delve deeper. ~ Lord John "Jack" Byron”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Nestled into a bed of shiny cream satin lay a heart-shaped pendant on a simple gold chain. The heart itself was created from over a dozen delicate round amethyst stones, while the center held a miniature painted on porcelain. Done in a series of fine, delicate strokes, the artist's rendering depicted a tiny garden, alive with masses of yellow and white hollyhocks.
Right away, they reminded her of the flowers she'd been drawing that long-ago day in Bath. The day of her and Jack's very first kiss.
Her gaze went to his, breath stilled in her chest. "Oh, Jack. It's Sydney Gardens, isn't it?"
"That's right, with those stalky, puff-headed flowers." He gave her a gentle smile. "Do you like it?"
"I love it."
"I chose amethyst, since you said it's your favorite stone. I hope I remembered right?"
"You did. It's so lovely. Thank you. I'll wear it each and every day," she promised. "Your heart tucked against my own."
A peculiar shadow flickered momentarily across his eyes before he reached for the necklace. "Here, let me help you put it on."
"Yes. Please," she said, relieved he'd offered. Her hands were trembling with so much emotion that she doubted she could have managed the task on her own.
Turning slightly, she angled herself so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten the clasp. The slight weight of the gold and stones grew instantly warm against her skin. "There. How does it look?" she asked as she moved to face him again.
"Beautiful," he said.
But when she glanced up, she realized he wasn't looking at the pendant. Instead, he was looking at her.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“With most women he would use flattery and flirtation, appealing to both their vanity and their pleasure. But Grace was no ordinary woman. With her, he knew he would have to take a more subtle approach. Less than half a minute into their acquaintance, he'd sensed her reserve, as well as her insecurity. He surmised she wasn't used to being boldly pursued by men, so any sudden, overt interest on his part would only provoke her suspicions and put her on the alert.
Instead, his approach would require a deft touch and gentle, patient persuasion. A shy doe required proper coaxing, after all. The key was to figure out what kind of inducement she liked best and be there to offer it.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“You may not be beautiful in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean you aren't lovely all the same. Uniquely lovely, with an inner radiance that far transcends what passes for pretty these days. Take your eyes, for example."
"My eyes?"
"Hmmm. Have you ever noticed how they change color with your moods?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they do. When you're happy, they're a pure pristine blue, like twin brushstrokes of sky. And when you're displeased or lost in serious thought, they shift to grey. Silvery, sensual grey, the sort that ripples like dawn mist over a lake. I can think of no other woman with eyes like yours. Magnificent, soul-deep eyes in which a man could drown if he weren't careful.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“She hovered, her fine-boned face and slender form revealed in the low light of the fire. Her hair was the pale blond hue of moon glow, her eyes the soft, silvery blue of a mist-shrouded lake. Dusted pink as new blush roses, the color of her lips and cheeks gleamed against the creamy whiteness of her skin.
For a second he wondered if she was a phantom brought on by too much drink, her ethereal beauty more in keeping with a faerie story than reality.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Tempted by His Kiss

“A tender smile softened his face. "That would be Esme. She's nine and a delight. I haven't seen much of her these past few years, but she writes me letters. Sends me drawings as well. I have a likeliness of every cat, hound, and horse she's ever met, and considering the menagerie she keeps in the country at Clybourne, that's a great many indeed.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Tempted by His Kiss

“In order to conform to the current Empire style in fashion, the modiste had raised the waistline so that it fell just beneath Esme's small rounded breasts. Mrs. Benson had embellished further by adding a slender grosgrain ribbon there that matched the exact shade of tiny embroidered golden flowers scattered over the gown's ivory satin. Next she had shortened the sleeves so they were now small puffed caps edged against the arms with more narrow golden ribbon.
As for the long length of material that had once run from shoulder to heel, she'd removed it and used the excess fabric to create a sweeping train that ended in a spectacular half circle that trailed after Esme as she walked. The entire hem was further enlivened by small appliquéd white lace rosettes, whose effect was nothing short of ethereal.
On her feet, Esme wore a soft pair of ivory satin slippers with gold and diamond buckles that had been a last-minute gift from Mallory and Adam. On her hands were long white silk gloves that ended just above her elbows; her lustrous dark hair was pinned and styled in an elaborate upsweep with a few soft curls left to brush in dainty wisps against her forehead and cheeks.
Carefully draped over head was a waist-length veil of the finest Brussels lace, which had been another present, this one from Claire, and in her hands she held creamy pink hothouse roses and crisp green holly leaves banded together inside a wide white satin ribbon.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss

“Looks delicious," he lied. "A mite crispy along the edges - but then, I like it that way."

Incredulous eyes met his own. "You like your potatoes burned?"

Ah, so he'd been right about that. If he could still recognize what it was she'd cooked, then surely he could eat it.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Wife Trap

“The garden shimmered with candlelight from dozens of sweetly scented beeswax tapers set around to illuminate the space. In the center stood her painting table, now neatly draped in a crisp, white linen tablecloth and laid with her best china, crystal and silver.
More lighted candles were arranged on the table, a small vase of flowers set in the middle, tender petals of red, pink and ivory adding a pleasing burst of color. More color glowed in the sky, sunset turning the horizon a glorious golden apricot.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“She looked beautiful and very innocent, her vibrant blue eyes wide with what he guessed was shock. Her cheeks were stained pink with more of the nerves she hadn't been able to hide during the ceremony. As for her rosy mouth, her lips were slightly parted and ripe for kissing.
'Mine,' he thought primitively. 'Mine to touch and taste and claim at my leisure.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss

“Whatever you do, act as if you meant to do it even if you're sure you look like a fool.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Wedding Trap

“He didn't overpower, exploring her mouth with confident thoroughness, as if they had all the time in the world. Gradually, he increased the intensity, his mouth sliding this way and that, angling his head to find the perfect fit. Then, before she had any idea what he truly wanted, he coaxed her lips to part so he could slide his tongue inside. He dipped and sipped, licked and pressed, teasing her in ways that made her thoughts turn to ash. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically against the fine wool of his coat, and she rocked up onto her toes to get more.
He chuckled low in his throat as he slowly eased away, leaving her momentarily confused and bereft, her body keenly aware of the abrupt loss of pleasure.
His eyes gleamed like gold coins. "You taste every bit as sweet as you look, my dear." He skimmed the back of one finger over her cheek. "Maybe this bargain we're making won't be such a bad one after all.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss

“Immediate pleasure tingled over his flesh at the contact, her hand soft and delicate and extraordinarily feminine. Tiny, as well, her palm barely a fraction of the size of his own- so small that without care he knew he could crush the fragile bones inside with no more than a squeeze. He was careful and tender, though, aware of his height and strength as he towered high above her.
Gazing down, he met the suddenly rapt expression in her eyes. Without thinking, he tightened the contact between them, the tips of his fingers brushing idly against the silky texture of her skin as he pulled her a fraction closer. She trembled but did not resist, subtly swaying toward him, near enough now for the skirts of her gown to brush against his pantaloon leg. Her lips parted- pink and pretty and sweetly kissable. He bent his head and stared at her luscious, strawberry-hued mouth, wondering if her flesh would taste as good as it looked.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Tempted by His Kiss

“Be careful, little girl. Or else the big, bad wolf might just change his mind and decide to eat you after all.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss

“She watched him with brazen interest, reclining against the pillows as he revealed inch by delicious inch of hard masculine flesh. The sight of him made her giddy. He was better than any Grecian sculpture she'd ever seen- long and tall where he should be, broad across the shoulders, but equally narrow at the hips. Muscles flexed beneath his superb physique, powerful bone and sinew covered by taut, supple skin. A dusting of short dark hair grew on his powerful legs and across his elegant forearms. His chest was covered by a heavier thatch of nearly black hair. A line of it tapered downward across his flat stomach, then all but disappeared, before flaring out again around his groin.
It was this last part of him that fixed her attention most completely. From the instant he stripped of his pantaloons and drawers, she couldn't look away. Without conscious awareness, she riveted her gaze on his swollen shaft, taking note of its rampant length and girth.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“With a quiet pause, he let his hand come to rest just below the triangle of blond curls that concealed her most tender flesh.
"Cade?" she said in a strained voice.
"Close your eyes," he commanded. "Close your eyes and let me please you."
"But you have... you do."
"Good. Then let me please you more." Parting her, he eased a finger inside and began to stroke.
She arched, inadvertently driving him even further inside. Her body responded, sending down a rush of wetness that made his caresses that much easier, that much more inviting. As he'd asked, she let her eyelids flutter closed, her head rolling against the sheets, while need coiled hot as a brand through her belly and between her legs. Unable to govern her reaction, her breath came in fast, little pants, her legs parting as he continued his deep inner massage.
Leaning up, he caught her mouth in a slow, ravishing kiss, tangling his tongue with hers in an imitation of what he was doing to her below. She gave a muffled cry when he added another finger, filling her in a way that drove her right to the edge. A few strokes later a swirling flick of his thumb sent her hurtling over, her fingers clenching in his hair as she shook with release.
But he wasn't done, stoking her desire with deep, open-mouthed kisses that made her moan, his fingers building her need once more so that she could do nothing but yearn, held utterly in his thrall until he finally took mercy and sent her flying yet again.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Tempted by His Kiss

“The chef outdid himself, as one delectable dish after another was brought up from the kitchens. For Gabriel, there was a succulent roast goose with figs and a tender glazed ham, while (Esme) dined on a pair of clever cheese dishes, one made with cream and potatoes and another from Italy that combined cheese-filled flat noodles smothered with a wonderful rosemary butter sauce.
Accompanying all of that was a plentiful array of vegetables, spiced and stewed fruits and freshly baked breads with creamy butter. And for dessert, there was a flaming plum pudding with a cognac whipped cream so strong it threatened to leave her tipsy.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss

“Grace.
Her name whispered through Jack's mind like the silken stroke of a hand.
He'd never seen her look as pretty as she did tonight, the vibrant bronze hue of her gown lending her skin a creamy luminosity, her hair gleaming a rich, fiery red that reminded him of living flame.
And passion.
He wondered if that same intense fire lay hidden inside her, and he relished the idea of finding out.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Might I require protection, Wyvern?"

"Not at the moment, no, but if you do acquire another pistol, I could always be persuaded to disarm you again.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, His Favorite Mistress

“He supposed there were worse things than marriage, although right now he couldn't seem to think of any. 'Cade looks happy enough,' Jack reasoned, as his attention returned to the ceremony. 'Why wouldn't he though, when he is marrying an angel?'
His brother's bride, Meg, certainly looked the part, dressed all in white, with her blond hair swept upward in soft waves beneath her lace veil, her lake blue eyes aglow with unconcealed joy. Her love for Cade was clear, as was her gentle sweetness and caring ways. 'Cade is a fortunate man,' he thought. 'I should be half so lucky.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Jack kissed her long and deep, with a driving need that radiated all the way to his bones. Pausing, he took an extra moment to breathe in the honeyed fragrance of her skin, to taste the sweet flavor of her tongue as it slid like hot, damp silk against his own.
He shuddered from the pleasure, relishing the sensations as though they were manna from heaven.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“The family name is Landsdowne and I am Gabriel."
"Oh. Like the archangel," she said without thinking.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Exactly. Although I've more often been likened to Lucifer, the angel who was cast down to earth. My uncle once suggested I petition Parliament to have my name officially changed so everyone would know me for the devil I am.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Happily Bedded Bliss