And mortal terror in a female was Z's favorite turn-on. He got off on it like most males favored crap from Victoria's Secret.

— J.R. Ward

And why had those prayers been focused heavenward? Well, it kind of made sense, didn't it? Even when there were no more options for the body, the heart's wishes find a way out, and as with all warmth, love rises. Besides, the will to fly was in the nature of the soul, so its home had to be up above.

— J.R. Ward

Are you holding her?” Wrath asked. There was a pause. “As soon as I get this bow tied in the back—hold on, girlie. Okay, up you go. She’s in a pink dress that Comic made her by hand. I hate pink. I like it on her, though—but keep that to yourself.” Wrath flexed his hands. “What’s it like?” “Not totally hating pink? Pretty fuck—ERM, frickin’ emasculating.” “Yeah.” “Do not tell me Lassie’s been metro sexualizing even you. I heard he talked Marcello into going for a pedicure with him—but I’m praying that’s just gossip.”-Wrath & Sadist

— J.R. Ward

As far as he was concerned, there were only two good positions for a human. A female on her back. And a male face down not breathing.

— J.R. Ward

As he shut the door, he was painfully aware that they were each talking about their young--only Wrath's had four paws and a tail. Least he didn't have to worry about George succeeding him or being blind.

— J.R. Ward

As Quinn looked at his best friend's handsome face, he felt as if he'd never not known that red hair, those blue eyes, those lips, that jaw. And it was because of their long history that he searched for something to say, something that would get them back to where they had been. All that came to him was. . . I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad it hurts, but I don't know how to find you even though you're right in front of me.

— J.R. Ward

As the Brotherhood got down to business, he found himself putting his hand on the dog’s big head and stroking the soft fur…playing with an ear…dipping down and finding the long waves that flowed from the animal’s broad, strong chest. Not that any of that meant he was keeping the animal, of course. It just felt nice, was all.

— J.R. Ward

At the last minute, she bobbed left so that he stabbed the wall she'd hit, trapping the blade in the Sheetrock. As he went to try to get the thing free, she whirled around and nailed him in the gut with her backup blade, springing a hole in his lower intestines. Meeting his shocked stare, she said, "What, like you didn't think I'd have a second knife? Fucking idiot.

— J.R. Ward

-BDB on the board-Knitter's Anonymously 8, 2006Rhage (in his bedroom posting in V's room on the board)Hi, my name is V.("Hi, V")I've been knitting for 125 years now.(*gasping noises*)It's begun to impact my personal relationships: my brothers think I'm a Nancy. It's begun to affect my health: I'm getting a callus on my forefinger and I find bits of yarn in all my pockets, and I'm starting to smell like wool. I can't concentrate at work: I keep picturing all these lesser in Irish sweaters and thick socks.(*sounds of sympathy*)I've come seeking a community of people who, like me, are trying not to knit. Can you help me?(*We're with you*)Thank you (*takes out hand-knitted hankie in pink*)(*sniffles*)("We embrace you, V")Viscous (in the pit): Oh hell no...you did not just put that up. And nice spelling in the title. Man...you just have to roll up on me, don't you. I got four words for you, my brother. Rhage: Four words? Okay...let me see... Rage, you're so sexy.Hamm.... Rhage, you're SO smart. No wait! Rage, you're SO right! That's it, isn't it...g'head. You can tell me. Viscous: First one starts with a "P"Use your head for the other three. Bastard. Rhage: P? Hmm... Please pass the yarnVishous: Payback is a bitch! Rhage: OhhhhhhhhhhhhI'm so scuuuuuurred. Can you whip me up a blanket to hide under?

— J.R. Ward

Beth's not on that train?"" Nope. She's not even in that station, that town, or that part of whatever country your metaphor lives in.

— J.R. Ward