Dammit, Jim. I'm a Guardian, not a doctor.

Do you want me to ride you like a rented mule, or do you prefer to be Mr. Missionary Position? I'm fine with wither, so it doesn't matter to me.

Tully/Ysolde: "Brom?" I asked, releasing his head. He reeled backwards for a moment, his eyes huge. "Are you all right?" Brom: "I couldn't breathe," he said, giving my boobs a wary glance.

I don't like this." "I know you don't, my little spaetzel. But I am too worn out to run from both the police and your murderous twin, and Damian's looking peaky, plus Christian did apologize for trying to kill us earlier." "I wasn't talking about that. It's your lamentable habit of using completely unsuitable love names for me that gives me grief," Adrian groused. "I am not a lambypie, nor am I a spaetzel.

My life used to be boring. A damnation here, a curse there, with an occasional blight or two to break routine. Now I have Aisling...She's better than reality TV, Internet porn sites, and the trashloids all put together.' - Jim

What do you know about dragons?” “They're big, scaly, four-legged creatures with wings who terrorized small villages until a virgin was offered up as a sacrifice.” His grinned again. “I do miss the virgins.

I've wanted you since the moment you tried to run me over. You are unlike any woman I have met before. You are strong, and courageous, and you do not suffer fools.