Facial Beauty Quotes

“During their brief encounter in the music room, Cassandra had been too flustered to notice much about him. He'd been so very odd, jumping out like that and offering to marry a complete stranger. Also, she'd been absolutely mortified for him to have overheard her tearful disclosure two West, especially the part about having her dress altered.
But now it was impossible not to notice how very good-looking he was, tall and elegantly lean, with dark hair, a clear, fair complexion, and thick brows sett at a diabolical slant. If she were to judge his features individually- the long nose, the wide mouth, the narrow eyes, the sharply angled cheeks and jaw- she wouldn't have expected him to be this attractive. But somehow when it was all put together, his looks were striking and interesting in a way she'd remember far longer than conventional handsomeness.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“While awake, he was all angles and tension- the muscles of his jaw were strung tight as a bow, as though he were in a perpetual state of holding himself back. But now, in slumber, in the glow of the fire, he was...
Beautiful.
The angles were still there, sharp and perfect, as though a master sculptor had had a hand in creating him- the tilt of his jaw, the cleft of his chin, his long, straight nose, the perfect curve of his brows, and those eyelashes, just as they were when he was a boy, unbelievably long and lush, a black, sooty caress against his cheeks.
And his lips. Not pressed in a firm, grim line at the moment, instead lovely and full. They had once been so quick to smile, but... they had become dangerous and tempting in a way they'd never been when he was a boy. She traced the peak and valleys of his upper lip with her gaze, wondering how many women had kissed him. Wondering what his mouth would feel like- soft or firm, light or dark.
She exhaled, temptation making the breath long and heavy.
She wanted to touch him.”
― Sarah MacLean, A Rogue by Any Other Name

“Gideon was instantly captivated. A hundred questions crowded in his mind. He wanted to know who she was, why she was there, if she liked sugar in her tea, had she climbed trees as a girl, and what her first kiss had been like...
The flood of curiosity puzzled him. He usually managed to avoid caring about anyone long enough to ask questions about him. Not quite trusting himself to speak, Gideon approached her cautiously. She stiffened slightly, as if she was unused to proximity with a stranger. As he drew closer, he saw that her features were even and her nose was a little too long, and her mouth was soft and sweetly shaped. Her eyes were some light color... green, perhaps... shining eyes that contained unexpected depths.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

“The slim chestnut-haired woman had been battering an assailant twice her size with precisely aimed strikes of her cane. Ethan had loved the way she'd done it, as if attending to some necessary task, like carrying a household bin out to the rubbish carter.
Her face had been unexpectedly young, her complexion clean-scrubbed and as smooth as a tablet of white soap. All cheekbones and cool green eyes, with a sharp little rampart of a chin. But amidst the elegant angles and edges of her features, there was a valentine of a mouth, tender and vulnerable, the upper lip nearly as full as the lower. A mouth with such pretty curves that it did something to Ethan's knees every time he saw it.
After that first encounter, Ethan had taken care to avoid Garrett Gibson, knowing she would be trouble for him, possibly even worse than he would be for her. But last month he'd gone to visit her at the medical clinic where she worked, for information concerning one of her patients, and his fascination had ignited all over again.
Everything about Garrett Gibson was... delicious. The dissecting gaze, the voice as crisp as the icing on a lemon cake. The compassion that drove her to treat the undeserving poor as well as the deserving. The purposeful walk, the relentless energy, the self-satisfaction of a woman who neither concealed nor apologized for her own intelligence. She was sunlight and steel, spun into a substance he'd never encountered before.
The mere thought of her left him like a stray coal on the hearth.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Hello Stranger

“Sara noticed that his white teeth were slightly snaggled, giving his smile the appearance of a friendly snarl. It was then that she understood why so many women had been seduced by him. His grin held a wickedly irresistible appeal. She stared at his chest as he untied the laces and positioned her cap correctly.
"Thank you," she murmured, and tried to take the strings of the cap from his fingers.
But he didn't let go. He held the laces at her chin, his fingers tightening. Glancing up at him in confusion, Sara saw that his smile had vanished. In a decisive motion he pulled the concealing lace from her hair and let it fall. The cap fluttered to a patch of mud and rested there limply.
Sara lifted her hand to the loose braided coil of her hair, which threatened to tumble from its pins. The chestnut locks gleamed with fiery highlights, escaping in delicate wisps around her face and throat. "Mr. Craven," she scolded breathlessly. "I find your behavior untoward and a-and offensive, not to mention-oh!" She stammered in astonishment as he reached for her spectacles and plucked them from her face. "Mr. Craven, h-how dare you..." She fumbled to retrieve them. "I... I need those..."
Derek held them out of reach as he stared at her uncovered face. This was what she had kept hidden beneath the old-maid disguise... pale, luminous skin, a mouth shaped with surprising lushness, a pert little nose, marked at the delicate bridge where the edge of her spectacles had pressed. Angel-blue eyes, pure and beguiling, surmounted by dark winged brows. She was beautiful. He could have devoured her in a few bites, like a fragrant red apple. He wanted to touch her, take her somewhere and pull her beneath him, as if he could somehow erase a lifetime of sin and shame within the sweetness of her body.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

“It had been only natural that as she developed into a young woman, she would become physically attracted to him. Certainly every other female in Hampshire was. McKenna had grown into a tall, big-boned male with striking looks, his features strong if not precisely chiseled, his nose long and bold, his mouth wide. His black hair hung over his forehead in a perpetual spill, while those singular turquoise eyes were shadowed by extravagant dark lashes. To compound his appeal, he possessed a relaxed charm and a sly sense of humor that had made him a favorite on the estate and in the village beyond.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

“The black-haired man she had seen in the courtyard was indeed McKenna. He was even larger and more imposing than he had seemed at a distance. His features were blunt and strong, his bold, wide-bridged nose set with perfect symmetry between the distinct planes of his cheekbones. He was too masculine to be considered truly handsome- a sculptor would have tried to soften those uncompromising features. But somehow his hard face was the perfect setting for those lavish eyes, the clear blue-green brilliance shadowed by thick black lashes. No one else on earth had eyes like that.
"McKenna," she said huskily, searching for any resemblance he might bear to the lanky, love-struck boy she had known. There was none. McKenna was a stranger now, a man with no trace of boyishness. He was sleek and elegant in well-tailored clothes, his glossy black hair cut in short layers that tamed its inherent tendency to curl. As he drew closer, she gathered more details... the shadow of bristle beneath his close-shaven skin, the glitter of a gold watch chain in his waistcoat, the brutal swell of muscle in his shoulders and thighs as he sat on a rock nearby.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

“She was beautiful.
Before, she had been pretty and gorgeous, lively and smiley, all red hair and perfect skin and quick movements. Now her eyes were deeper. He could fall into her face forever and happily drown there, pulled into her depths. There were worlds in her mind that were only just forming before.”
― Liz Braswell, Part of Your World

“I did not actually accuse you of being beautiful. I said you looked beautiful tonight. A subtle but significant difference."
"Yes, the gown," she started to say.
He stepped closer. "Is my eyesight failing? Let me take a closer study." He took another step, until she had to tilt back her head to look at him. "Hold still," he said, amusement softening his tone. He touched her chin.
Eliza froze.
Gently the earl tipped her face from side to side, his dark eyes intent upon her. "A few freckles," he said thoughtfully. "But I find those charming." His thumb brushed along her cheekbone and Eliza's hands fisted in the folds of her skirt. "Your lashes are very long," he murmured. "And your eyes... Your eyes are lovely. Like the fields of Rosemere under a summer sky, when the grasses are tall and verdant, and golden finches swoop in and out.”
― Caroline Linden, An Earl Like You

“His face, brooding and saturnine in the shadows, could have belonged to some lesser god in a realm far below Olympus. Powerful, secretive, enigmatic. He turned his head until his lips nudged her palm with a tenderness she knew somehow was reserved for her alone.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“He angled himself so he could see the round smoothness of her forehead and the straight, oddly aristocratic nose. She was beautiful. He'd recognized that immediately.
Recognized and railed against it.
The oval face with its exotically slanted cheekbones reminded him of etchings he'd seen of Italian Madonnas. His uncle had been generous in giving him books to make up for the Grand Tour he'd never undertake.
His gaze fastened on where delicate color returned from her lush mouth. Its fullness belied the impression of purity. That mouth made even such a sorry excuse for a man as Matthew dream of sin.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She lifted her lantern high, and he allowed her to free him from the shadows, casting his face in warm, golden light. He had aged marvelously, grown into his long limbs and angled face. Penelope had always imagined that he'd become handsome, but he was more than handsome now... he was nearly beautiful.
If not for the darkness that lingered despite the glow of the lantern- something dangerous in the set of his jaw, in the tightness of his brow, in eyes that seemed to have forgotten joy, in lips that seemed to have lost their ability to smile.
He'd had a dimple as a child, one that showed itself often and was almost always the precursor to adventure. She searched his left cheek, looking for that telltale indentation. Did not find it.
Indeed, as much as Penelope searched this new, hard face, she could not seem to find the boy she'd once known. If not for the eyes, she would not have believed it was him at all.
"How sad," she whispered to herself.
He heard it. "What?"
She shook her head, meeting his gaze, the only thing familiar about him. "He's gone."
"Who?"
"My friend."
She hadn't thought it possible, but his features hardened even more, growing more stark, more dangerous, in the shadows. For one fleeting moment, she thought perhaps she had pushed him too far. He remained still, watching her with that dark gaze that seemed to see everything.”
― Sarah MacLean, A Rogue by Any Other Name

“His mind was completely occupied with the image of Aline by the river, the rich mass of her pinned-up hair, the exquisite lines of her body and throat.
Time had only made Aline's beauty more eloquent. Her body was ripe and fully developed, the form of a woman in her prime. With maturity, her face had become more delicately sculpted, the nose thinner, the lips faded from deep rose to the pale shade of pink that tinted the inside of a seashell. And there was that damned, never-forgotten beauty mark, the festive dark fleck that lured his attention to the tender corner of her mouth.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

“I love the waves of your lips
The symmetries of your eyes
The gazes
The smiles”
― Jazalyn

“Merritt was dumbstruck at the sight of his clean-shaven face.
Dear God. He was beyond handsome. The cushioning thick beard was gone, revealing the brooding masculine beauty of a fallen angel. His features were strong but elegantly refined, the cheekbones high, the mouth full and erotic.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Sara noticed that his white teeth were slightly snaggled, giving his smile the appearance of a friendly snarl. It was then that she understood why so many women had been seduced by him. His grin held a wickedly irresistible appeal. She stared at his chest as he untied the laces and positioned her cap correctly.
"Thank you," she murmured, and tried to take the strings of the cap from his fingers.
But he didn't let go. He held the laces at her chin, his fingers tightening. Glancing up at him in confusion, Sara saw that his smile had vanished. In a decisive motion he pulled the concealing lace from her hair and let it fall. The cap fluttered to a patch of mud and rested there limply.
Sara lifted her hand to the loose braided coil of her hair, which threatened to tumble from its pins. The chestnut locks gleamed with fiery highlights, escaping in delicate wisps around her face and throat. "Mr. Craven," she scolded breathlessly. "I find your behavior untoward a-and offensive, not to mention-oh!" She stammered in astonishment as he reached for her spectacles and plucked them from her face. "Mr. Craven, h-how dare you..." She fumbled to retrieve them. "I... I need those..."
Derek held them out of reach as he stared at her uncovered face. This was what she had kept hidden beneath the old-maid disguise... pale, luminous skin, a mouth shaped with surprising lushness, a pert little nose, marked at the delicate bridge where the edge of her spectacles had pressed. Angel-blue eyes, pure and beguiling, surmounted by dark winged brows. She was beautiful. He could have devoured her in a few bites, like a fragrant red apple. He wanted to touch her, take her somewhere and pull her beneath him, as if he could somehow erase a lifetime of sin and shame within the sweetness of her body.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

“Do you know what the most useful beauty product you can have in your home is?
Is it a great skin cleanser, a toner, or a conditioner? There is a straightforward treatment that, believe it or not, covers all those areas and is a one-stop beauty treatment in a bottle. So, what is this mystery ingredient? It’s good, old-fashioned apple cider vinegar.”
― Amy Leigh Mercree, Apple Cider Vinegar Handbook: Recipes for Natural Living

“The boy was hardly much of a boy anymore, having donned his manly toga several years before, but he still had a rosy-cheeked look about him that made him seem younger than his eighteen years. He wore his hair closely cropped in the style of Augustus. It made his features all the more prominent; dark brown eyes, chiseled nose, and a slight pout in his lips that rounded out his Adonis-like visage.”
― Crystal King, Feast of Sorrow

“I was about to march straight into the Goblin Grove and drag my sister back home to safety when the stranger drew back his hood.
I gasped.
I could say the stranger was beautiful, but to describe him thus was to call Mozart "just a musician." His beauty was that of an ice storm, lovely and deadly. He was not handsome, not the way Hans was handsome; the stranger's features were too long, too pointed, too alien. There was a prettiness about him that was almost girly, and an ugliness about him that was just as compelling. I understood then what Constanze had meant when those doomed young ladies longed to hold on to him the way they yearned to grasp candle flame or mist. His beauty hurt, but it was the pain that made it beautiful. Yet it was not his strange and cruel beauty that moved me, it was the fact that I knew that face, that hair, that look. He was as familiar to me as the sound of my own music.
This was the Goblin King.”
― S. Jae-Jones, Wintersong

“Emma had always considered herself to be possessed of a few fortunate qualities, offset by the same number of drawbacks. She was brave, but when someone raised a threatening hand to her, that calm, faintly contemptuous expression on her face usually made the punishment far worse. She was strong, which made her able to withstand greater pain, both physical and emotional, whereas a weaker soul might dissolve into tears that would stop the torment. She considered herself to be passably pretty, though not quite in the common style, since she was built on large lines, but her height and her quiet life kept overeager swains at bay. Her face was lovely enough, yet her pale skin was marred by an unfortunate arrangement of freckles, and her brown eyes, pretty though they were, were alarmingly nearsighted. And there was the problem of her most unfortunate shade of hair. She would have given anything to have hair a plain, mousy brown, rather than the flame red she'd been born with. Miriam called her hair devil's silk.”
― Anne Stuart, To Love a Dark Lord

“In the gray winter light from the windows, Kathleen's auburn hair was a lively shock of color. She was a little slip of a thing with distinctive feline beauty, her brown eyes tip-tilted and her cheekbones prominent.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“You have chosen to give yourself to me, Miss Chadwick." The words were low and clear. "I do not take it lightly, this gift you've bestowed. But as I said, it will take far more than one night to make you mine."
Lily released her breath on a soft sigh.
Something flickered in his impenetrable stare, and he added in a murmur, "There will be no going back."
The sentiment echoed her own from earlier, and Lily experienced a sense of rightness in that moment that overcame any lingering question or concern. They would be lovers.
As they stood facing each other in silence, barely an inch separating them yet not touching at all, she wanted so badly to lift her hand and press it to the side of his face. She wanted to feel the hard angle of his jaw against her palm and the roughness of his skin where the shadowed start of a beard darkened his cheeks.
Something held her back.
She touched him with her studied gaze instead, observing the harsh lines of his face as a frown hardened his visage. She slid her attention briefly to the pulse beating at his temple, then across his oppressive eyebrows, down the slope of his strong nose. His mouth was pressed into a stern, unforgiving line, but it could not disguise the elegant upper arches or the generous lower curve of his bottom lip.
His mouth was beautiful, she thought.
Lifting her gaze again to meet his eyes, she was struck by the raw need she saw there.”
― Amy Sandas, The Untouchable Earl

“During their brief encounter in the music room, Cassandra had been too flustered to notice much about him. He'd been so very odd, jumping out like that and offering to marry a complete stranger. Also, she'd been absolutely mortified for him to have overheard her tearful disclosure to West, especially the part about having her dress altered.
But now it was impossible not to notice how very good-looking he was, tall and elegantly lean, with dark hair, a clear, fair complexion, and thick brows set at a diabolical slant. If she were to judge his features individually- the long nose, the wide mouth, the narrow eyes, the sharply angled cheeks and jaw- she wouldn't have expected him to be this attractive. But somehow when it was all put together, his looks were striking and interesting in a way she'd remember far longer than conventional handsomeness.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“She was even prettier up close than he'd imagined. Bowtie lips with up-turned outer corners. Peachy skin- smooth, he could tell just by looking, yielding. Glossy curls around a love-heart face.”
― Kate Morton, The Secret Keeper

“Such a wonderful face, their mother's. As a younger woman she'd been beautiful than Laurel, more so than any of her daughters, with the possible exception of Daphne. She certainly wouldn't have had directors pushing her towards character roles. But one thing you could bank on was that beauty- the sort that came with youth- didn't last, and their mother had grown old. Her skin had sagged, spots had appeared, along with mysterious puckers and discolorations; her bones had seemed to subside as the rest of her shrank and her hair frayed to nothing. But still that face remained, every aspect bright with mischief, even now. Her eyes, though tired, had the glint of one who never stopped expecting to be amused, and her mouth turned up at the corners as if she'd just remembered a joke. It was the sort of face that drew strangers, that enchanted them and made them want to know her better. The way she had of making you feel, with a slight twitch of the jaw, that she too had suffered as you did, that everything would be better now simply for having come within her orbit: that was her real beauty - her presence, her joy, her magnetism. That, and her splendid appetite for make-believe.”
― Kate Morton, The Secret Keeper

“Her hands groped around his neck, her fingers lacing through the thick shorn locks at the back of his head. The hard, clean contours of Keir's face rubbed against hers, a different feeling than the coarse tickle of his beard. But the mouth was the same, full and erotic, searingly hot. He consumed her slowly, searching with his tongue, licking deep into each kiss. Wild quivers of pleasure went through her, weakening her knees until she had to lean against him to stay upright. As her head tilted back, a forgotten tear slid from the outer corner of her eye to the edge of her hairline. His lips followed the salty track, absorbing the taste.
Keir cradled her cheek in his hand, his shaken whisper falling hotly against her mouth. "Merry, love... my heart's gleam, drop of my dearest blood... you should have told me."
Merritt heard her own weak reply as if from a distance. "I thought... in some part of your mind... you might have wanted to forget."
"No." Keir crushed her close, nuzzling her hard against her hair and disheveling the pinned-up coils. "Never, love. The memory slipped out of reach for a moment, is all." His hand coasted slowly up and down her spine. "I'm so damned sorry for the way I've been trying to keep you at a distance. I dinna know you were already inside my heart." He paused before adding wryly, "Mind, I did have to jump from a three-story window, with little to break the fall but my own hard head." Taking one of her hands, he pressed her palm over his pounding heartbeat. "But you were still in here. Your name is carved so deep, a million years could no' erase it.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“His eyes were light, light brown like the dark honey that came at the end of the summer when the sumac and serious bushes bloomed. His eyebrows were heavy and expressive but didn't overwhelm his face. His mouth kept pulling to one side in that smile... there was something a little fake about it, but also something a little endearing. Like he was trying very hard to be suave and mysterious. And didn't realize how obvious it was.”
― Liz Braswell, What Once Was Mine

“They combed my hair and pinned it up, hung rubies in my ears and around my neck, painted rouge on my lips and cheeks, and anointed my wrists and throat with musk. Finally they hustled me in front of the mirror.
A gleaming, crimson-clad lady stared back at me. Until this day, I had worn only the plain black of mourning, even though Father had told us when we were twelve that we could dress as we pleased. Everybody thought that I did it because I was such a pious daughter, but I simply hated pretending that everything was all right.
"You look like a dream." Astraia slid her arm around my waist, smiling tremulously at our reflections.
Everybody said that Astraia was the very image of our mother, and certainly she could not have gotten her looks anywhere else: the plump, dimpled cheeks, the pouting lips, the snub nose and dark curls. But I might have been born straight out of my father's head like Athena: I had his high cheekbones, his aristocratic nose, his straight black hair. In a rare burst of kindness, Aunt Telomache had once told me that while Astraia was "pretty," I was "regal";”
― Rosamund Hodge, Cruel Beauty

“Nothing accentuates facial beauty better than a pure smile.”
― Wayne Chirisa

“The face. The part of us meant to engage with the world. To perceive it. To reflect and reveal. Our greatest gift. Our greatest curse.”
― Alma Brooke, Four of a Kind