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Jessi Gage
“His Malina was a mystery, a lovely and welcome mystery. He couldn’t resist smoothing his palm over her silky hair. Stroking her like that, over and over again filled him with peace. Concerns about his mill and Steafan and all that Wilhelm might expect from him floated away on a cloud of contentment. Until he felt warm wetness on his skin where her face nestled. “Are ye weeping?” “No,” she said, but her voice caught on a sob. “There,” he said, “now we have both told a lie to the other. We are even.” Whatever had her distraught, her heart wasn’t so heavy that she couldn’t give a small chuckle. “Maybe I’m crying just a little,” she said. “It’s fine, though. Don’t worry. Get some sleep.” “I canna. My da told me a good husband doesna lay his head down for the night if his household isna in order and his wife isna content.” “He sounds like a very responsible man. Like father, like son.” No one had given him as much to feel proud over as this woman.”
― Jessi Gage, Wishing for a Highlander

C.S. Pacat
“That’s right, I’m still captured,’ said Damen.
‘Your eyes say, “For now,”’ Laurent said. ‘Your eyes have always said, “For now.”
― S.U. Pacat, Captive Prince

Susan Ee
“I look up to say something but he puts his finger to my lips and whispers, “Don’t talk. You’ll just spoil my fantasy of rescuing an innocent damsel in distress as soon as you open your mouth.”
― Susan Ee, World After

Jennifer L. Armentrout
“Aw, did you just fall?"
"No." I rolled onto my back, wincing. "I attacked the floor.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Pure

Jessi Gage
“I dinna expect your thanks. ’Tis not why I stole ye away from Steafan.” She rolled her eyes, but this time with affection instead of annoyance. “Duh, I know that. You’re so darned honorable you’d never do anything for something as paltry as my thanks. It’s not just about thanks. I love you, you stubborn Highlander.” She cupped her hand over her mouth. The ornery thing had just blurted that which she had yet to fully admit to herself. Considering how much it hurt to have Darcy reject her physical advances, she was in no mood to bear his inevitable rejection of her heart. Mortified, she turned to run away. But his arms went around her. He hadn’t lied when he’d claimed to be quicker. “Do ye mean that, lass?” he asked, bending over her back, holding her. “No,” she lied, trying to pry his arms away. “I’m out of my mind. Don’t listen to a thing I say. Let me go.” “No. I willna. And I think a confession spoken in ire is more trustworthy than one spoken in calm.” He turned her around and lifted her face to his. “I love you, too, lass.” He kissed her.”
― Jessi Gage, Wishing for a Highlander

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