Slow Burn Romance Quotes

“He looks like a poem. One of those mournfully beautiful ones with short, unfamiliar words that sound ethereal when spoken and completely nonsensical when thought.”
― Velvetoscar, Young & Beautiful

“He missed her. Even though his heart was blackened and the rage inside him could have lit the entire camp on fire, he missed her with whatever good remained in him.”
― Israh Azizi, The General

“Love isn't just butterflies and grand gestures; it's the quiet comfort of knowing you're understood.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“In every shared glance, a story of love unfolds.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“True happiness is found in the simple moments we share, where laughter comes easy and worries fade away.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Every moment together is a chapter in our love story.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“The magic of love lies in its ability to turn ordinary moments into extraordinary memories.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“He tasted like wine and the ocean. He tasted like the sun, the stars. He tasted like home”
― Sarah A. Bailey, The Soulmate Theory

“Det var svårt att avgöra om han njöt av att hon var besvärad eller om han faktiskt tyckte synd om henne.”
― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

“He held up a hand as though in court. "I swear I will not touch you." But with no small amount of pride, his purring returned. "Unless you beg me to.”
― McKenzie A Hatton

“Each moment with you is a verse in the poetry of my heart.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Det finns en märklig paradox i en spirande kärlekshistoria. Man blir ängslig. Rädd för att tala om för den andra parten att man inte kan låta bli att tänka på henne eller honom hela tiden. Man vill ge allt, men man snålar, hushållar med lyckan som om den gick att spara, lägga på hög.
Kärlekens begynnelse är lika idiotisk som bräcklig.”
― Marc Levy

“”
― Joanne Speirs, Second Chance Love in Point Perry

“He was tall and leanly muscled with broad shoulders and a solid chest that was built for cuddling. Naked cuddling. After a full, long night of no-promises sex.
He opened her door. "Let me help. It's a big step down."
"Is that a jab at my size?" she said with no heat.
"No, it's an excuse to get my hands on you." As promised, his big, manly hands spanned her waist and he lifted her from the seat and let her slide, oh so slowly, down his body until she was safely on the ground. Only he didn't let go right away, holding her snug against him, so all their good parts lined up. "And I think your size is pretty fucking perfect."
Man, was she ever in trouble. Tingles sizzled, starting in her belly and moving to all the essential parts so quickly she could scarcely breathe. Stupid tingles, they were at the center of this mess. This problematic, complicated, and incredibly sexy mess that, as far as she could conclude, would only be solved one way.
"Buttercup," he whispered. "You keep looking at me like that and we're both going to be in trouble."
"I've never gotten in trouble," she said, sliding her hands up up his chest. "I'm beginning to think I've been missing out."
Hudson groaned and rested his forehead on hers. "If we go there now, I won't be able to show you the best part."'
"Funny, I was thinking by going there, we'd get to the best part faster."
"When we go there, it will be slow, and long, and will take all night and into the next day.”
― Marina Adair, The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie

“Hatter brought his head closer toward hers as his eyes heated into pools of deep honey. Alora’s eyes slowly slid closed, and as she felt the whispers of a kiss touch her awaiting lips, he pulled away.”
― Michelle Helen Fritz, A Court Of Broken Promises & Nightmares

“But then the unbelievable happened. The barely there smile she'd glimpsed earlier flourished into an all-out grin. It was beyond devastating.
"Laughing releases endorphins," she said. "Maybe you should try to do more of it."
"Is that why you're still laughing at me?" he asked. "Endorphin rush?"
"I was trying not to," Ashanti said.
He leaned over and, in a lowered voice, said, "You failed." The amusement dancing in his eyes softened the rest of his features.
Goodness.”
― Farrah Rochon, Pardon My Frenchie

“I knew it was you the moment I saw that truck."
Puddin' ran to her and started jumping around like fire ants were attacking his paws.
"I knew it was you the moment I saw you too," Von said as he dusted his hands on the front of his T-shirt. He held one out to her. "Von Montgomery. And you are?"
"She's the dog sitter," Thad answered for her. He fought the instinct to push Von out of the room.
"Ah! Puddin's favorite person," Von said. "That would explain his excitement."
Ashanti dropped down to one knee and rubbed the poodle behind the ears while nuzzling his nose.
It would be stupid and immature to admit he was jealous of a dog, and yet...”
― Farrah Rochon, Pardon My Frenchie

“Hey, so I know I said that Puddin' wouldn't be coming to the daycare anymore, but I was hoping you hadn't given his spot away yet," Thad said.
Her dog began to bark and twirl around like a chunky ballerina the minute he said Puddin's name.
"Duchess, sit," Ashanti ordered. The dog immediately plopped its butt on the floor.
Thad should not have found her commanding tone sexy, but apparently that's where his brain wanted to take everything when it came to Ashanti Wright.
Impressive. That's what it was. He couldn't get Puddin' to sit on command if he promised that little asshole every dog biscuit in New Orleans.”
― Farrah Rochon, Pardon My Frenchie

“Something blooms within the barren plains of his heart, something that is green and small and smells of spring. A seed of happiness, nurtured by Hani's kisses, just beginning to grow.”
― Sophie Kim, The God and the Gumiho

“Two weeks into my job at the Pacific, we got these beautiful Page mandarins, and Ximena talked about how much possibility they had in them. You could make a vinaigrette with the juice, or marmalade with the peel, or preserve them in salt, or add sugar, eggs, and butter and turn them into custard for a tart. That's when I realized there wasn't only one right way to treat an ingredient; there were many. I'd spent my entire life never getting anything right, and now I could just follow my senses, my gut instincts, and made something delicious that people liked."
I'd listened to him tell stories about his cooking history, but now he sounded different. Less glib, more earnest. "That's why you like citrus so much," I realized aloud. "Not just because of how it wakes up food.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“I felt like I'd been dumped onto a deserted beach. There was the ocean on one side and a dark forest on the other. No map to guide me, no radio for rescue. It was just me, alone, and I had to choose between drowning and walking into the unknown."
He shook his head. "You wouldn't have drowned."
I raised my eyebrows. "No?"
"You would have found a way to make some kind of machete and hacked your way through that forest no matter what. You're tough." He smiled a little. "It's what makes you such a pain in my ass."
I snorted at his crassness, and I felt another emotion sneaking in alongside my respect for his drive and his talent. Liking. I liked this man.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“She was private, and uptight, and a workaholic. But that didn't mean she was frigid. Not with the way she hummed and licked her lips when she bit into a ripe strawberry. Or how she'd stared at my bare stomach that time after my run. Passion flowed under Ellie's surface like a creek under rocks. You couldn't see the water, but if you listened, you would know it was there.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“But Ellie's fingertips brushed over my cheekbone, soft as rose petals. Traced my temple, my jawline.
She touched me like I was precious.
No one in my entire life had been gentle with me.
And her lips said, "I'm here" and "Be mine." But wait. She was faking it. We both were. A fake kiss could taste like vanilla milkshakes and prosecco and feel like floating on a cloud.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“It felt like chicken soup when I had a snotty mess of a cold, like a glass of icy apple juice when my body was on fire with fever. I didn't disappear into his embrace like I had in Max's, but he was still strong and comforting and almost like relief. I buried my face in his shoulder, and he found the sweet spot on my back again, rubbing it until I wanted to purr.
But then my skin prickled, and suddenly I genuinely felt feverish. It was only supposed to be a hug with a friend, not me climbing him like a tree.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“Sex with you is pretty wonderful. It's like when we work together in the kitchen. We fit each other."
Suddenly, he was on top of me, and I squealed, "Kieran!"
He pressed his nose to mine. "Pretty wonderful, huh? What would it take to make it amazing? Fantastic?"
There was my Puck. Testing and playful and impossibly sexy.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“I couldn't help the snort that escaped my mouth.
"Oh, you'll pay for laughing at that." When he blew a loud raspberry against my neck, a flicker of something golden and bright shot through me as I scream-laughed.
Joy. I'd missed it.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“I love strawberry ice cream."
I blinked, confused. "Yes, I saw you chugging your In-N-Out milkshakes like you'd spent forty days in the desert. But what does that have to do with feelings?"
He tugged my hand. "No, listen. I mean, I've always ordered it whenever I go to an ice cream store, because I know I like it, even the cheap kind that's like the Ghost of Strawberries Past. Until I met you, I was basically treating my life like strawberry ice cream. I'd found something that I was good at, that I knew worked for me, and just did that, day in, day out. I told myself that this was what it took to be successful, but deep down I was afraid of fucking up, just the same way my parents are terrified of fucking up. I was afraid if I got close to someone, I'd make a mess and disappoint them.
"But now, with you, I want to try the whole ice cream parlor. I want to order, like, a monster sundae with all the crazy flavors I can think of. Blueberry cheesecake and mocha almond fudge and mango sorbet."
It still wasn't adding up. "You want to try new things because of me?"
"I want to be brave," he said earnestly. "To give my all to everything, even though it might not work out." He swallowed hard. "You're so strong, Ellie, and you believe in me. I want to be worthy of that. Worthy of your faith and your strength.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“I'd heard on a podcast once about a Japanese technique for fixing broken pottery, where the artist would mix gold with glue, binding the cracks together and making them glow.
I wasn't the distraction, Ellie was saying. The book was, and all the burdens that came with it.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“After I'd polished off one pastry and was halfway through a second, he asked, "Happy pastry?"
The laugh bubbled up around my mouthful of blackberry jam and vanilla custard. I swallowed and said, "Understatement. Ecstatic pastry. Delighted pastry. I-love-you pastry."
He cracked up. "Wow, strong words. All I had to do was bring you the finest croissants in the land."
I put my plate on the nightstand and crawled to him. "Please don't think you have to buy me fancy pastry all the time so I'll stay in love with you."
"What do I have to do?" He set his plate aside. "Spoil Floyd rotten? Make you shrimp for dinner every day?"
"Be yourself," I said.
His wolfish grin was gorgeous, and when I kissed him, his joy was buttery sweet on my tongue.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“Sometimes, the greatest love stories begin with a simple hello.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements