173 Quotes by B.J. Daniels

How do I know that you aren't manipulating me right now, like you do everyone else, to get what you want?" "Because if that was true, you and I would already be lovers.

His look turned serious again, and she realized that it was more dangerous than his grin. "I know you, Kat Hamilton. I'd like to say I know you inside and out. Maybe someday soon...." She reached across him and opened his door. "In your dreams, Malone...." "Sometime I'll have to tell you how those dreams ended.

Are you trying to seduce me?" He shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I have a rule. I never get involved with anyone connected to a story I'm working on...." "This rule of yours?" she asked. "How many times have your wanted to break it?" "A few times I was tempted." "And how many times have you broken it?" When he spoke, his voice sounded rough with emotion. "Never.

When you were a teenager, where did you go to make out?" "Seriously?" She laughed nervously. "Aren't we a little old for that?" "I certainly hope not.

It beats where my parents first made out. They went to the West Yellowstone dump. They sat in the dark and waited for the bears to come out." Max laughed, smiling over at her. "And then what?" "About the time the bars in town closed, the grizzlies would chase away the black bears. Everyone who was parked at the edge of the dump would turn on their headlights and watch the grizzlies dig in the garbage." "You Montanans really are a romantic bunch.

You should know something about me. I joke around a lot. But I'm a pretty serious guy about some things. My job. My truck. My lucky boots." Which he just happened to be wearing tonight. "Making love.

Austin couldn't help being protective of his youngest brother. While he and Hayes had both worked in law enforcement, Laramie had no experience dealing with criminals. "I hope you're right," Austin said as he watched his family finish their lunches. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Laramie had no idea what he was getting into.

There is one man," the artist said after a moment. He'd paled. "H. F. Powell." "Where would I find him?" West didn't seem to hear him for a moment. He shook his head as if clearing away cobwebs from his brain. "Find him?" His laugh was more of a grunt. "Six feet under, last I checked.

When are you coming back?" he'd demanded as he'd watched her throw her clothes into two suitcases and head for the door. "When you get some help with your drinking." He didn't need any help. He drank fine without it.