Suspense Quotes

Michelle: It wasn't my house. It was owned by a brownie couple who owned it and rented out suites. There were a few long-term renters, like me, but it also functioned as a bed and breakfast to people and magical creatures passing through. A renter, like myself, was entitled to two meals a day, which made up for the microscopic kitchen. Being something of an indifferent or terrible cook, those kept me from eating fast food every day. I walked inside, barely pausing to wipe my feet on the mat. I swung to the right and stumbled into the dining room, hardly looking at the long table or who might be at it. I made a bee-line for the tea and slurped down half a mug. The hot, caffeinated beverage forced my eyes open and gave my movement some energy. While topping off my mug, I looked around and saw two unicorns, a dwarf and five shifters.

One day, you’ll fall for somebody. At first, you’ll fight it, because you won’t understand. But when you do, Tess, you’ll know that he’s the one--the one you would die for.

Everything is an echo of something I once read.Dream, hope, and celebrate life!Love always comes back in a song.One thing we all have in common is a love for food and drink.Memories never die, and dreams never end!What is time?

Eve: "Where's Mister Scary?"Roarke: "Summerset has the night off."Eve: "You mean the house is Summerset-free? Damn shame we have to waste it with work.

Finia glanced towards her bedroom, wishing the darkness would swallow her whole.

What did you tell me, Jesse? Sure Jake, Stephanie will do exactly what you tell her. Sure Jake, protecting her will be a piece of cake. “Snorting in disbelief, he added, “Being at war is safer compared to this shit, and it’s a hell of a lot easier than looking after your girlfriend.

And what if you're trying to knock out another man," she said, sarcastic. There was no expression in his cool blue eyes. "Then I kiss him," he said in the calmest of voices. "Now you try it.

I was murdered. Even though my heart continued to beat, I was very much deceased. All faded to black

You want to come back to the bank vault?” Jack says.The bank vault. That’s what Jack calls his house.

He shook his head. “Did you tell him he should expand the Odessa-Brody oil pipeline up to Poland?”I smiled. “Yes. Yes, I did. You should definitely expand the pipeline. Think of all the money you could make if you sold your oil to the EU. You could build a whole new children’s hospital and a research center. You’d have enough money to buy real toilets for the university so women don’t have to crouch over those holes in the floor.” I shook my head. “I’d like to see you try that in five inch heels!

If you behave as if you are all right, then one day you will be. You have to go through the motions of surviving in order to survive.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: That's the idea. Listen, Frank, this one is different. She's a keeper." He let that part gel in me. "Get your head screwed on straight and move to Richmond. You hate it living in Pelham.

I wonder if every girl yearns for her father’s love,almost like waiting to catch the moon hiding in the trees—beautiful, yet so eternally elusive.-MUKTA

I don't believe in writer's block. Who can function working seven days a week at job. It's the same with writing. Take a break and let the words come to you. It rarely comes if you force it and if it does, you'll probably regret what you wrote down on paper.

I will not let them harm you. I will protect you 'till my last breath.

I was feeling like I was floating two inches above the sidewalk every step of the way. Feeling, almost, a magnetic pull back towards her and I wondered at all, if she felt it too.

He had the muscular definition of a man who had spent his life restraining elephants in heat.

You don’t look injured to me. What am I supposed to think? Have you been with them this whole time? My god, Brook. Where were you?

Do it, Octavian” She ghosted the tips of her fingers along the hem of his shirt. “Touch me.”He growled low in his throat, his forehead dropping another inch toward her shoulder, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Be my angel, Riley, not my siren. Don’t tempt me.”Moistening her lips with a sweep of her tongue, Riley glided her fingers over his belt, tracing the strip of leather to the silver buckle in the center. She felt rather than heard his deep inhalation and the tremor that raked his powerful body. Driven by his surrender, she used two fingers to walk over the square carvings etched into his abdomen, biting her lip to stop the grin that pulled when he groaned. “I want to be both for you, Octavian,” she whispered, letting her lips brush the curve of his shoulder.

She unzipped her oversized flannel onesie, created especially for women not interested in finding a man, and tossed it on the bed.

Why do you even want to be involved with me?" she asked. "I'm a complete mess. I don't have my head on straight. I'm a master at fucking up everything that's good in my life.""But you're my mess." Cole said quietly. "I don't need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you because that's who I care about.

A hard man is nice to find

The heartache of your brother and your best friend? I mean, Hayes if it's not your business, then whose business is it?

He's lost everything once, and now, he wasn't sure if he had anything left to lose.

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride

It’s not the dead people you got to worry about… It’s the living that are scary.

It took me most of my childhood to realize that traditions have infinite power over us.-MUKTA

Something was wrong. I felt a cold shiver. I didn’t know what at first. Something was just… wrong. I thought of Azrael for some reason, the Imposter, in that cowl, pretending he was Batman. It was that same sick feeling, a crazy kind of panic sparking deep beneath the surface, ready to erupt any second but held in check for the moment by the cold shiver getting colder by the minute.My fingers were so cold… against the warmth of Bruce’s chest… and then the realization came, right underneath those cold fingertips, I knew what was wrong.“When did these heal?” I whispered.

He had always liked a good mess—God knows he had sure made a few. In typical form, he squared his shoulders, furrowed his brows and muttered, “bring it on.

Surprise is when a prime minister is assassinated during his speech. Suspense is when an assassin lurks while the prime minister speaks. Balancing surprise and suspense is the job of the thriller writer.

No living person could disappear like Sofia. She’d have a go-bag stashed somewhere. Money and passports and disguises, with just enough ice to evaporate.

Alistair would never reject her, never make her feel ashamed of her desires...never make her hold back.” - Felicity (The Pleasure Room)

The moon shines like a freshly unwrapped cheese ball at the holidays.”-William Harrison in Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

Random line from BURNING DARKNESS: Fonda Raine stepped out of the back end of a month in hell a hardened warrior, ready to undertake the most important task of her life: kill Eric Aruda.

…He rocked against her, his body shuddering against hers again and again, until he collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her hair.Brooke felt his heart beating against her chest as they lay there, boneless. For two people who preferred to speak in quips and sarcasm, that had been unexpectedly…intense.She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.Then Cade spoke.“I think this is the first time I’ve ever used this table,” he said, against her neck.Brooke began to laugh. My God, he was still inside her and she was already giggling. “I take it you don’t do a lot of formal entertaining.”He pulled back, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “Were you not entertained, Ms. Parker?

Alannah?” He held her limp body waiting for a response. “Don’t do this.” He put his hand over the other cut whispering his words and healing it as well. “Alannah?” His voice begged, as he held her face in his hand Still no response. He looked at the ground she had laid on realizing that she had lost a lot of blood. Then from the corner of his eye he saw the rise and fall of her chest and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She still lives.

Don't quote me on that

Fighting with Harper stirred his blood, and walking out on her had only intensified his need, as though the brief separation was more than he could bear. All he could think about was getting back to her. Undressing her. And fucking her until he worked whatever this desperate feeling was out of his system.

It was a dark, dismal afternoon, like they all seem to bethese days, when I got this call. I could hear the rainbattering the windowpane of my office when the phone rang.

An artist's domain was private, a haven for practicing and experimenting, the one place where failure was still allowed.

I believe that on any trip to heaven, there are always detours through hell.

Evie is our beautiful, dark-haired, green-eyed child,’ I say. I can hear the tremor in my voice. ‘Like many seven-year-old girls, she’s obsessed with princesses. We think she looks more like a fairy. She loves Lego and painting. She laughs easily. She has pretend tea parties in a tree in our garden and invites all her dolls. She wants to be an artist when she grows up. Please find her. Please bring her back to us. We miss her beyond measure. She is the love of our life.

I'm giving serious thought into eating yor wife” - Hannibal Lecter

She dribbled water over his neck and back. The towel didn't quite soak up all of it, and drops raced down his back, trailing the curve of his spine. She loved that curve, framed on either side by ripple after ripple of muscle, and she especially loved the way it dipped in at his waist before flaring onto his perfect, rounded backside.

When the time comes, don’t be afraid to open the door, just make sure you choose the right one.

The truth remains quiet inside us,floundering like a battered bird,desperately wanting to spread itswings and fly away.-TARA

It seems like hours pass, both of us staring into each others eyes. I have no idea what she sees that holds her, but I can't look away either. She's giving me the look again, the one that makes me feel like a superhero.

Mum, your heart is the same size as your fist,’ she told me once in delight, and we both made our hands into fists and held them against our chests and bumped them together: hands as hearts.

Let me make it clear. There will be no repeat of that night. Absolutely not! Not ever, do you understand?” "Who are you trying to convince, Tessnia? Me or you?

Never give up no matter how tough the road seems,keep going and visualize yourself in the realm of what you are going to achieve.

Elsa's mother no longer spoke to her of men and love, but of duty and fate and accepting one’s burden. As far as Elsa could tell, if love really was the inherited female domain, then women were saddled with the biggest burden of all. It was pressing down upon them, the way the sea pressed down upon the creatures of the deep.

I remember Chap saying Jesus was a lifeline. And I needed one. Had needed one for a long time, I guess. So I prayed for the first time in my life and let Jesus rescue my soul from the depths.

At forty-one, he was still the quintessential bad boy—charming, at ease in his skin, and great-looking, with deep blue eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and the kind of full, sensuous mouth that bad boys seemed to have an unfair market on.

It was a soulless gaze, burning with a wild hatred that shouldn’t be there in anyone who could call themselves a parent.

The fact is I'm in a serious jam.

How do you circumvent a mind bent upon lying to get away from the truth?

Woolrich had a genius for creating types of story perfectly consonant with his world: the noir cop story, the clock race story, the waking nightmare, the oscillation thriller, the headlong through the night story, the annihilation story, the last hours story. These situations, and variations on them, and others like them, are paradigms of our position in the world as Woolrich sees it. His mastery of suspense, his genius (like that of his spiritual brother Alfred Hitchcock) for keeping us on the edge of our seats and gasping with fright, stems not only from the nightmarish situations he conjured up but from his prose, which is compulsively readable, cinematically vivid, high-strung almost to the point of hysteria, forcing us into the skins of the hunted and doomed where we live their agonies and die with them a thousand small deaths.

I will not be a victim. I will not think like a victim. I am going to avenge all those little girls. I am going to win.

I gave my heart away to somebody long time ago- when I was barely a man. And I never got it back.

I only have secrets that keep you safe, Darlin