Meet Cute Quotes

“I fell in love with you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you’re looking at and fall in love with that person.”
― Raphael Bob-Waksberg, Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory

“Letting go of my hand, he reached up to touch my face, thumb brushing across the line Vragi’s knife had left on my cheek. “Where is your husband?" What makes you think I’m wed?” I demanded, but he only turned and walked up the slope, ­toward a horse I hadn’t even been aware was tied to a tree. He pulled on a shirt before glancing back at me. “Your ring. Now, where might I find him?” Instinctively I tucked my hand, which bore a plain silver band, into the folds of my skirts. “Why do you wish to know where he is?”
"Because I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make you a free woman so that you can bed me with no concerns for propriety,” he answered, tightening the girth before swinging onto the tall animal’s back. “What other reason could there be?”
― Danielle L. Jensen, A Fate Inked in Blood

“Your laughter is the echo of joy in the halls of my heart.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Hey, maybe you could invite the new guy to your party." Sarah suggested.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll just ask the good-looking stranger if he wants to come round to my Nanna'a and dance naked around a fire." Mark was suddenly aware of the engulfing silence.

"Who'll be naked doing what now?”
― K.S. Marsden, Winter Trials

“I put my hand on his forearm, I don't know why I do this, and it's not exactly natural, although it's not unnatural, except that I really want to touch his skin. It's smooth and tan just a little bit and feels like summer, like something familiar and warm and good, like my skin did on the first days aboard 'Fishful Thinking' before it salted and burned and peeled.
'We broke up three years after that.'
I sit back in my chair and give a sly smile. Relationships are complex and sometimes you can't really explain them to an outside party.
'I can't believe I just told you that'
'YES! YOU! ARE! LIVING! YOUR! FULL! LIFE!'
A third time. I am not imagining it.
'There you are.'
This time my heart does skip a beat. I look down at his arm, and we are still touching, and he has made no attempt to retract his arm or retreat. All my surroundings, the red formica table top, the pink yogurt, the blue sky, the green vegetables in the market, they all come alive in vibrant technicolor as the sun peers from behind a cloud. I am living my full life.
'Honesty in all things,' Byron adds, lifting his cup of yogurt for a toast of sorts.
I pull my hand away from him and the instant my hand is back by his side, I miss the warmth of his arm, the warmth of him. Honesty in all things. I should put my hand back, that's where it wants to be, that's Lily's lesson to me. Be present in the moment, give spontaneous affection. I'm suddenly aware I haven't spoken in a bit.
'Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?'
As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I realize I sound like that kid from 'Jerry McGuire.' 'Did you know the human head weighs eight pounds?' I hope my question comes off almost a fraction as endearing.
'No,' Byron says with a glint in his eye that reads as curiosity, at least I hope that it does, but even if it doesn't I'm too into the inertia of the trivia to stop it.
'It's true, one heart called the systemic heart that functions much like the left side of the human heart, distributing blood throughout the heart, then two smaller branchial heart with gills that act like the right side of our hearts to pump the blood back.'
'What made you think of that?'
I smile. It may be entirely inappropriate first date conversation, but at least it doesn't bore me in the telling. I look up at the winsome August sky, marred only by the contrails of a passing jet, and a vaguely dachshund shaped cloud above the horizon. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in love at first site. I don't believe in angels. I don't believe in heaven and that our loved ones are looking down on us, but the sun is so warm and the breeze is so cool and the company is so perfect and the whole afternoon so intoxicating, ti's hard not to hear Lily's voice dancing in the gentle wind, 'one! month! is Long! Enough TO! BE! SAD!'
...
'I recently lost someone close to me....I don't know, I feel her here today with us, you, me, her, three hearts, like an octopus,' I shrug.
If I were him, I would run. What a ridiculously creepy thing to say. I would run and I would not stop until I was home in my bed with a gallon of ice cream deleting my profile from every dating site I belonged to. Maybe it's because it's not rehearsed, maybe it's because it's as weird a thing to say as it is genuine, maybe it's because this is finally the man for me.
Byron stands and offers me his hand, 'Let's take a walk and you can tell me about her.'
The gentle untying of a shoe lace.
It takes me a minute to decide if I can do this, and I decide that I can, and I throw our yogurt dishes away, and I put my hand in his, and it's soft and warm, and instead of awkward fumbling, our hands clasp together like magnets and metal, like we've been hand-in-hand all along, and we are touching again.
...”
― Steven Rowley, Lily and the Octopus

“Holy mama llama. That’s Nathanial Stone. Nathanial Stone is sitting in my booth. Nathanial Stone is in the Finewhile Diner sitting in my booth. I’m supposed to wait on Nathanial Stone. I’m going to make a fool out of myself. I just know it. I can feel it coming. Crap.”
― D.L. Hess, Sir

“I do see the pockets of light.

Then why do you insist on staying in the darkness?”
― Tammy L. Gray, Love and a Little White Lie

“The rational part of my brain understands that everything is random. There are a million possibilities in the universe. Us meeting is just one of those possibilities, and just as meaningless.

The thing is, though, I can't imagine a world that didn't bring us together. We were meant to be.”
― Sophie Kinsella, I Owe You One

“Two silhouettes blocked out the hard sun. The shapes came into focus as my vision adjusted to the light. One of them revealed itself to be a longboard. The other, the smoking-hot, dripping-wet guy who’d surfed it.”
― Jessica Parra , Rubi Ramos's Recipe for Success

“Strawberry?”
He kept his hand on the bear. “It’s silly. The bear’s name.”
“Why is that?” I kept my voice low and calm.
“All my bears are berries. So, like, there’s Blueberry and Boysenberry and Raspberry and Roddenberry.”
“Roddenberry?”
“Um, you know, the creator of Star Trek.”
― Wendy Rathbone, Little Boy Mine

“The moment our eyes met, it was as if the universe conspired to bring two kindred souls together.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Come again?" He turned and looked at her from under his hat.

"You called me madam." Her cheeks turned pink from more than the sun. "But I’m not married."

To her immense surprise, the American finally raised his hat and smiled, hitting her with green, green eyes and a beautiful flash of white teeth against his dark beard.

She heated unexpectedly, grappling with a surge of instantaneous recognition. This was it. The face of every man she’d ever read about that made her heart skip— princes and pirates and heroes, both dashing and dastardly. She hadn’t realized until she turned into a human candlewick: that’s what they all looked like.

"Well, thank you very much, Miss."

"What… are you thanking me for?" Her voice sounded strange to her ears.

He tipped his hat. "The first good news I’ve had since I arrived in London.”
― Erin Langston, The Finest Print

“I weave through LA's famous Farmers Market, which is really more of an outdoor food court, and now I'm a few minutes late. And the place is packed and there's still the uncertainty about where to meet when I look down and realize I'm wearing yellow pants. Yellow pants. Really? Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking. They're rolled at the cuff and paired with a navy polo and it looks like maybe I just yacht my yacht, and I'm certain to come off as an asshole.
I thin about canceling, or at least delaying so I can go home and change, but the effort that would require is unappealing, and this date is mostly for distraction. And when I round the last stall--someone selling enormous eggplants, more round than oblong, I see him, casually leaning against a wall, and something inside my body says there you are.
'There you are.'
I don't understand them, these words, because they seem too deep and too soulful to attach to the Farmers Market, this Starbucks or that, a frozen yogurt place, or confusion over where to meet a stranger. They're straining to define a feeling of stunning comfort that drips over me, as if a water balloon burst over my head on the hottest of summer days. My knees don't buckle, my heart doesn't skip, but I'm awash in the warmth of a valium-like hug. Except I haven't taken a Valium. Not since the night of Lily's death. Yet here is this warm hug that makes me feel safe with this person, this Byron the maybe-poet, and I want it to stop. This--whatever this feeling is--can't be a real feeling, this can't be a tangible connection. This is just a man leaning against a stall that sells giant eggplants. But I no longer have time to worry about what this feeling is, whether I should or shouldn't be her, or should or should't be wearing yellow pants, because there are only maybe three perfect seconds where I see him and he has yet to spot me. Three perfect seconds to enjoy the calm that has so long eluded me.
'There you are.'
And then he casually lifts his head and turns my way and uses one foot to push himself off the wall he is leaning agains. We lock eyes and he smiles with recognition and there's a disarming kindness to his face and suddenly I'm standing in front of him.
'There you are.' It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it and it's all I can do to steer the words in a more playfully casual direction so he isn't saddled with the importance I've placed on them. I think it comes off okay, but, as I know from my time at sea, sometimes big ships turn slowly.
Byron chuckles and gives a little pump of his fist. 'YES! IT'S! ALL! HAPPENING! FOR! US!'
I want to stop in my tracks, but I'm already leaning in for a hug, and he comes the rest of the way, and the warm embrace of seeing him standing there is now an actual embrace, and it is no less sincere. He must feel me gripping him tightly, because he asks, 'Is everything okay?'
No. 'Yes, everything is great, it's just...' I play it back in my head what he said, the way in which he said it, and the enthusiasm which only a month had gone silent.
'You reminded me of someone is all.'
'Hopefully in a good way.'
I smile but it takes just a minute to speak. 'In the best possible way.'
I don't break the hug first, but maybe at the same time, this is a step. jenny will be proud. I look in his eyes, which I expect to be brown like Lily's but instead are deep blue like the waters lapping calmly against the outboard sides of 'Fishful Thinking.'
'Is frozen yogurt okay?'
'Frozen yogurt is perfect.”
― Steven Rowley, Lily and the Octopus

“I look around, hoping I can postpone the indignity of stuttering like a lunatic in front of the sexiest man alive – according to People magazine, twice – while giving him crazy eyes. Of course, everyone looks like they’re taken care of. Except for Mr. Sexypants, major Hollywood actor, Nathanial Stone, Sir.”
― D.L. Hess, Sir

“He was working for the old lady, behind the desk, when the door chimes sounded the same way they would for anybody. The open door allowed in a flashing scream of frothing soy, pedestrian conversation and the El-train’s brake-song. The chimes didn’t know she was different. Neither did Tama. So he didn’t even look up.”
― Angela Armstrong, The Quin

“He sure as hell hadn’t expected to walk into the middle of a standoff between a big bruiser and a short redhead who prepared to slurp the guy’s spine through a straw.

And when she’d punched the big bruiser square in the jaw?

Well, he just might’ve fallen in love.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Taking Root

“My shoulder brushes his, and tingles tiptoe down my arm and into my fingertips.”
― Tammy L. Gray, Love and a Little White Lie

“His gentle handshake warms me like an old comfortable coat.”
― Tammy L. Gray, Love and a Little White Lie

“My head feels funny, and I have this sense that something is chasing me but I don't know what.”
― Tammy L. Gray, Love and a Little White Lie

“I wonder how many times we've passed each other in our city of millions.”
― Emily Henry, Book Lovers

“I’m sorry to disturb your mid-afternoon mattress dance, but I have to ask you to try to control the volume.”
― Mindy Michele, The Archer and His Rosebud

“Inside the white screen of the mosquito net, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, she felt as if she were in her own little oasis. Isolated from the rest of the world and its hostility. Although she could barely see past the bright, sunlit cloth, a movement in the shadows behind the net caught her eye. She frowned, straining her eyes to see what it was when, slowly, the net parted to reveal a gigantic figure. The light shone on his body and face to reveal what turned out to be a dark-eyed, broad-shouldered man.

A strange feeling was born in Bianca’s chest. A mixture of panic and embarrassment left her body in the shape of a scream. With no clear thoughts in mind, she yelled for someone to help her, until it dawned on her that she was in an unfamiliar apartment, in a town where no one knew about her, and where there was no one who could help her. She was alone, and the pervert in front of her undoubtedly wanted to take advantage of the situation. Stopping just enough to breathe and continue screaming, she got on her knees in the bed and kept on yelling at him, who then seemed to fall off whatever disgusting trance he was, and took a surprised step back. His fingers, still tangled in the mosquito net, ripped the fabric from the ceiling, exposing her further.

Bianca knew she was on her own. She could not count on anyone else to save her. When that realization hit, an unknown instinct made its way inside her and all the accumulated frustration caused by the situation with the paparazzi, the betrayal of her husband and losing her company concentrated inside her like a laser to focus on a single aim: the man in front of her. Feeling powerful, she grabbed the sheet tight around her with one arm to cover the front of her body, set one foot on the ground, and grabbed the closest thing to her: the purse. Her screams, which initially were meant to ask for help, transformed into a sound of pure rage.

Without taking her eyes off him, Bianca reached into her bag and threw everything she found inside it: a phone, an agenda, a bottle of water, a lipstick, a tissue, the box of condoms, a book. Even a small toiletry bag. When the bag was empty, she used it as a projectile too.”
― Sienna Mercier, The Woman In The Red Dress

“”
― Bella Michaels, Meet, Play, Love

“Mia franziu o cenho e dirigiu-se para seu apartamento, mas ficou imóvel. A porta de Alex estava aberta. Como se esperasse por ela. Não tinha como não vê-la.

Mia, preparada e com as chaves na mão, moveu-se devagar e destrancou a porta. Não foi rápida o suficiente.

Alex apareceu na sua sala, frente a frente com ela, e mostrou mais um daqueles sorrisinhos tortos — desta vez com a maior presunção e sarcasmo já vistos num ser humano. Ele não precisou dizer nada porque seu semblante já dizia tudo: “Você não devia ter feito isso”.

Alex usou o controle remoto e apertou um botão. A música cresceu e cresceu conforme Mia se encolhia no próprio casulo da vergonha.

Britney Spears cantou “Você me deixa louca, eu não consigo dormir”.

Eu te entendo, Britney, pensou e entrou rapidamente em casa.”
― Lívia S. Medeiros, Mia Jones Não Ama Ninguém

“The sight of him causes my knees to buckle, and I struggle to keep from spilling my coffee all over myself.
He pauses just inside to watch me grapple for balance and has the audacity to clap when I win, remaining upright and dry.”
― Jessika Klide, Wrong Bride, Right Wife: An Arranged Marriage Romance Novel

“But I’m a deer caught in the headlights after being nailed by a car because his smile blinds me momentarily stupid. It’s not necessarily bright, nor perfectly straight, but it’s so open and it shines a high beam on the most closed-off parts of myself.”
― Nikki Lang, One Night in Nashville

“Their gazes locked, and she could not look away. Violet eyes set under dark brows challenged her. For an instant, they seemed familiar, and then the feeling passed as her blood carried the threat of this male singing through her veins. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was no longer the sound of the arrows, but her own heart pounding as the swirling rush inside her spiked with fear.”
― Meg Cowley

“He was the most perfect male she had ever laid eyes on. This male was the promise of sin and darkness. He cocked his head as they appraised each other, and Harper felt as though she stared down the jaws of a wolf.”
― Meg Cowley, Heart of Dragons

“Come again?' He turned and looked at her from under his hat.

'You called me madam.' Her cheeks turned pink from more than the sun. 'But I’m not married.'

To her immense surprise, the American finally raised his hat and smiled, hitting her with green, green eyes and a beautiful flash of white teeth against his dark beard.

She heated unexpectedly, grappling with a surge of instantaneous recognition. This was it. The face of every man she’d ever read about that made her heart skip— princes and pirates and heroes, both dashing and dastardly. She hadn’t realized until she turned into a human candlewick: that’s what they all looked like.
'Well, thank you very much, Miss.'

'What… are you thanking me for?' Her voice sounded strange to her ears.

He tipped his hat. 'The first good news I’ve had since I arrived in London.”
― Erin Langston, The Finest Print

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