Debra Johnson

“Staring at her in his arms, he knew that he would lay his life down for hers without regret. He would slay dragons and move mountains for her. He would conquer whole worlds at her command and starve to skin and bones just to ensure she had food. She was not his sun or moon, but his galaxy.”
― J.R. Ward, Blood Fury

“Unhappily, Chase ended on the bottom of the tussle. Ashbury’s knee sank into his gut. “God Almighty, man,” Chase said. “What the devil’s wrong with you? Besides all the obvious things.” “You veriest varlet.” Ashbury lowered his mangled face to within an inch of Chase’s nose. “This. Is. Nap. Time.” Chase was nonplussed. “What?” The duke rolled aside, resting on his elbow as he worked for breath. “My infant son is currently upstairs, sleeping for the first time in nineteen hours. The only thing keeping me from disemboweling you here in the entrance hall, you cream-faced rooting hog, is that you’d probably wake him with all your sniveling and sobbing for mercy.” “Oh.”
― Tessa Dare, The Governess Game

“You know what kind of man Assail is. You know his business.” “And.” As those old eyes glared right back at her, she wanted to curse some more. But she knew better. And she should have known “criminals” and “against-the-law” were relative terms to her vovó. The woman had a long history with people who were less than on the up-and-up. Make that loved ones who were not all that law-abiding. Fine, time to bring out the big guns, Sola thought. “He’s not Catholic.” “He will convert.”
― J.R. Ward, The Thief

“Gripping her hips, I fuck her. Hard. It isn’t pretty. It’s fast and brutal. It isn’t making love. It’s fucking at its finest; raw and beautiful and fucking powerful, for us both. She submits to me willingly, simply, almost desperately, and I take her, body and mind, making them both mine. I brand them with my own fucked up version of love. Because I don’t love like most. I love darkly, cruelly, and brutally, or not at all.”
― Claire C. Riley, Wrath