Alex Morgan Quotes

Dream big, because dreams do happen.

Define normal, Clara?” I laughed when I tried to figure out the true definition. “Normal is a function on a washing machine, Alex.” I said seriously.

A region where the men love their women one beat shy of a heart attack. A corner of the world proving there are some things hotter in the South than the weather.

Next thing they knew, the door burst open, and there stood a group of the three meanest girls in school, who called themselves "The squad." The leader, Victoria, held up a disposable camera, snapping a quick picture, before the three burst into a fit of laughter.

Chelsea fans may have been listening to the Beatles and the Stones, but at Highbury half-time entertainment was provided by the Metropolitan Police Band and their vocalist, Constable Alex Morgan. Morgan (whose rank never changed ...) ... sang highlights from light operettas.

It's a section of the country where charm oozes from the men as easily as their southern drawls, and the women are soaked in seduction.

It's a sanctuary where the darkest desires of the people are shared in the light of a Georgia moon; with a picture perfect town as a backdrop.

had sex

Morgan won her first Olympic medal, a gold, with the American team. The team beat Japan, 2–1, in a match watched by nearly 80,300 people—the largest soccer crowd in Olympic history.

Seeing a man so broken over losing his wife caused an ache in Quinn's own heart. Seeing it reminded him that while love hurt, it still had the power to heal and he wished that Avery would find some relief from his kids.

hope you know how much he appreciates your care,” Alex told the Earps. “For I was sick, and you came to me,” Wyatt said. “Nah,” Morgan said. “It was selfishness.” Wyatt and Alex were both surprised, but Morgan just shrugged. “Doc doesn’t have any brothers,” he told Alex. “So we took him for our own.

41+17-7/69.

Hi, I’m Alex. What's your name?

Somewhere in the world, someone is training when you are not. When you face her on the field, she will win.

It was time to face the second hardest fact in her life; she had a dead mother, and a father who was actively killing himself, but not with the quick shot of a gun, but rather, with the slow tilt of the bottle.

As he slowed his speed, in reverence to his home, he noticed the long row of trees lining each side of the drive had started to bloom; adding to the beauty of the landscape. As long as he lived, taking the winding drive to the house would always warm his heart and feel like home.

So, I was thinkin’ of pickin’ up a job as a male stripper . It would be a way to meet women and earn money. Thoughts?” That should refocus his brother if no other way but him pausing to consider it. Quinn had undiagnosed ADHD, Chance was sure of it, and on occasion you had to refocus him. The same worked when Quinn went off on a tangent, you had to flash something bright to get him off the tangent, and in this case, the shiny was Chance becoming a stripper.

Quinn would have closed the bar down if needed. There was nothing in this world that was more important to him than his family. He would always come when any of them, even Avalon, who barely ever came home, needed him. He would stand up for them, whether they were right or wrong. He would pick them up if they fell and he would always be proud of them — no matter how small their accomplishments. He was, and always would be, their elder brother, father figure, friend, or whatever role they needed him to be.

I’d like to see you try to have my job. Around here I’m more connected than a Kennedy. As for our animals, there is no rapin’ involved, they are more than willing, just ask your “girlfriend.” She is probably gettin’ a little animal lovin’, and it’s probably better than you, which is why she isn’t answering your calls. Also, we aren’t hillbillies, we are rednecks. Don’t you have a map fucktard, no mountains in this part of the state, but you bring your ass down here, and I’ll do you a solid. I’ll introduce you to the fuckin’ bubba-brigade. Have a good night, and if Mhisery ever rolls off the animal she is on, I’ll tell her you called.

The national team players were in camp in Orlando, Florida, preparing for a pair of friendlies against Colombia when Rich Nichols and Jeffrey Kessler scheduled a conference call with the players on the team’s CBA committee. It was then that Hope Solo, Carli Lloyd, Alex Morgan, Becky Sauerbrunn, and Megan Rapinoe were presented with the idea of filing a wage-discrimination complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, or EEOC, against U.S. Soccer. If the players agreed to sign on, they would be asking a government agency to investigate whether U.S. Soccer was violating U.S. laws against workplace discrimination. In other words, the players were going to publicly accuse U.S. Soccer of discriminating against the women’s national team. It was a move guaranteed to ratchet up the tension between the national team and the federation. “I was nervous about that call the entire week because, in essence, what we were asking these great players to do was to sue their current employer for wage discrimination,” Nichols says. “That takes huge courage from anybody.

Nichols said only one player needed to sign on, but the call ended with all five of them agreeing to do it, as long as the rest of the national team wasn’t against it. “For the last several years, we had team meetings every single camp,” says Alex Morgan. “A lot of the issues with equitable pay, equal treatment, and equal opportunity for the women’s team in comparison to the men’s team surfaced and were the sticking points. We weren’t aware of the EEOC and the possibility of them coming to our defense before it was brought up by Rich Nichols and Jeffrey Kessler, but that was something that, as a team, we decided to move forward with.

From their hotel in Orlando, Florida, before team training on March 31, 2016, Hope Solo, Carli Lloyd, Becky Sauerbrunn, and Alex Morgan, joined by Jeffrey Kessler, spoke live with Matt Lauer over a video feed at the Today show studio in New York City. “Carli, you don’t just wake up one morning and say, We’re going to file a claim with the EEOC, and point a finger at U.S. Soccer,” Matt Lauer said to open the segment. “This has been simmering for a while. But why does it come to a head now?” “The timing is right,” Lloyd said. “We’ve proven our worth over the years, just coming off of a World Cup win, and the pay disparity between the men and women is just too large. We want to continue to fight. The generation of players before us fought, and now it is our job to keep on fighting.

Not only are they long-lasting injuries, but there are long-term effects of playing on turf,” Alex Morgan once explained. “The achiness, taking longer to recover than on natural grass, the tendons and ligaments are, for me at least, I feel more sore after turf. It takes longer to recover from a turf field than natural grass.” For this reason, some players with leverage have refused to play on artificial turf. When superstars Thierry Henry and Didier Drogba joined MLS clubs after careers in Europe, where artificial turf is rare, they refused to play at venues without natural grass. Grass also offers a better quality of ball movement and natural bounces, while artificial turf can negatively affect the flow of the game. In other words, soccer is meant to be played on grass, and that’s especially true during a World Cup, the most important tournament in the sport. When Canada’s bid, which included artificial turf fields, was selected by FIFA for the 2015 World Cup, the decision flew under the radar at first.

When a similar penalty was called just six minutes later—Annike Krahn fouled Alex Morgan in the box—the Americans had Carli Lloyd step up to the spot. Lloyd was the exact opposite of Šašić. She didn’t break her focus from the ball, staring at the spot where she was going to hit it and ignoring everything else around her. When the whistle blew, a composed Lloyd calmly stepped up and smashed it into the back of the net. The

We’re talking about them as athletes, rather than some of the conversations we had in ’99: My god, who are these women? They’re kind of hot!” Julie Foudy said. After the team won in 1999, the players turned into one-of-a-kind heroes, pioneers, and role models overnight. Many people rooted for them as a larger statement about women in sports. But by 2015, the players of the national team were athletes that America grew to love simply as athletes. If fans were going to be jubilant about a victory in the 2015 World Cup final, it wouldn’t just be because of some deeper meaning or greater impact—it would be because fans knew these players and wanted them to win. It was evidenced by Alex Morgan’s almost 2 million followers on Twitter, Hope Solo’s autobiography becoming a New York Times bestseller, and Abby Wambach appearing in Gatorade television ads on heavy rotation. No longer did the players need to show up at schools and youth clinics to hand out flyers, like the 1999 team did. The word about the national team was already out. In the team’s three May 2015 send-off games, they sold out every match, drawing capacity crowds at Avaya Stadium, the StubHub Center, and Red Bull Arena. Consider what Foudy told reporters in 1999 after the World Cup win: “It transcends soccer. There’s a bigger message out there: When people tell you no, you just smile and tell them, Yes, I can.” By 2015? Players like Carli Lloyd were talking about world domination. It was all about the soccer—and that, in and of itself, was something special and powerful.

The team needs to be a little more vocal about whether this is good for our bodies and whether we should be playing on it if the men wouldn’t be playing on it,” Alex Morgan said after the Hawaii cancellation. “We’ve been told by U.S. Soccer that the field’s condition and the size of the field are the first two talking points of when they decide on a field, so I’m not sure why eight of our 10 victory tour games are on turf whereas the men haven’t played on turf this year.” *

Instead, Wambach planted her feet and jumped straight up into the air, thrusting her head toward the ball. She beat Andréia to the ball and snapped it toward the goal. Wambach’s eyes were closed, but the sound of the ball rattling the back of the net was unmistakable. Goal, USA. The score: 2–2. “OH, CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?!” ESPN announcer Ian Darke shouted at the top of his lungs to American viewers through their TV sets. “ABBY WAMBACH HAS SAVED THE USA’S LIFE IN THIS WORLD CUP!” Wambach ran over to the corner flag and slid, releasing a primal scream. The players closest to her—Tobin Heath and Alex Morgan—hugged her first. Kelley O’Hara leapt off the bench and raced over to Wambach, and everyone else soon followed. Rapinoe fist-pumped furiously and pounded on her chest. It was perhaps the most exhilarating moment in the national team’s history—perhaps it could rival the 1999 World Cup win, which had fittingly happened exactly 12 years earlier. Either way, coming after 121 minutes and 19 seconds, it was the latest goal in World Cup history—men’s or women’s—and it was a thrilling boost for the Americans. There was no way they were going to lose to Brazil on penalty kicks now.

Merritt Paulson and the Portland Thorns essentially had their pick of the bunch. But it had been established well before the allocation process that the Thorns would be getting Alex Morgan, the most marketable player on the national team. Her preferred destinations included Portland and Seattle, but Paulson targeted Morgan as soon as he agreed to join the league. “It wasn’t a quid pro quo, but I definitely said to Sunil: If I’m going to be the one MLS team coming, I certainly want to make sure we get some terrific players to build around,” Paulson says. “We had Hope Solo last on our list. So, we had one player that we didn’t want anywhere near the team, and then Alex was the big ask for us.

the

Rams

tryouts

Slowly he raised his gaze to meet hers. "you mean...." "I mean i love you too Alex." Maggie sighed.

Mhisery realized at that moment, her father was so far gone into alcoholism the bottle had become his lover —and Avery Bellemy was nothing if not faithful to his partner. He cherished the bottle above his family, above his business, above his good name, and well above his own health. Her father was now pouring all the love he had felt for their mother into a bottle.

Chance looked over at Quinn as he explained the rules... again. Chance knew all of those things, hell, he had lived by them since he bedded his first woman. In the fact, he even added a rule of his own. He never, under any circumstances, went back for seconds with the women he slept with. He was infamous for pissing off women when they said something about him calling them, or seeing them again. Rather than pulling a dodging act most men learned at method which gained him adoration from other men and venom from women. No matter how progressive a woman claimed to be, the moment she realized she had just been fucked like she had never been fucked before or would ever be fucked again; they wanted to hang on. Chance had termed it the law of dickmitizing.

Syra had to bite back a laugh at the bird's nest comment and opted for a more characteristic gesture that summed up her thoughts on his opinion of her hair with one finger.

There was nothing more intoxicating to Syra than Court, and his scent was the sweet chaser to the slow burn the rest of the man provided.

Underneath the longing and the fever of anticipation; there was a need. He needed her to do this to him, for him . It was a way he could reset all the tangled mess in his mind.

Take his truck back to the house. You leave one mark on it, you fuck with it in any way, and I know where you live. I will beat you so bad your grandbabies will feel it. Understand?

She would just ride around until her mind cleared from the fog of coveting her past life; not just her life in New York, but her life before her mother died.

You are a kitten. The name stays. You are the compact version of a wildcat, so it fits. Kitten.

He smiled at her and gave a reassuring wink. He couldn't help himself. Chance figured old habits die hard, but the fact was when he grinned at her, or winked, he wasn't trying to get into her pants. He truly grinned with her. She made him smile. She could prove to be a good friend.

Once Chance put away the charm he had in abundance, she was surprised to find he was actually a decent guy. Maybe she could be friends with him.

Mhisery found comfort in the fact Quinn saw her as a woman. He saw past the tattoos, the piercings, and the attitude. She had built walls around her heart since her mother’s death; fearing if she let anyone in she would lose herself. If she let anyone in they would see her dysfunctional family, and would look down on her for it. She didn’t want anyone to see the man her father had become. She wanted them to remember him as he was before her mother died, and he lost his mind — along with the will to live.

Beauty if you keep that up, I am goin' to embarrass myself like a schoolboy.

This place looks better than it did when Mr. Hendley had it. It used to have a weird smell.” Quinn took an even breath and looked at Mhisery, “Now, all I can smell is you and I can tell you baby girl, Mr. Hendley never had me wanting to kiss every inch of his flesh to seek out just what the fragrance was.

Chance worked lower to the steel bands of his abdomen and went lower still. His soap laden hand clasped his cock as his mind wandered to thoughts of Alyssa. She was the epitome of pain in the ass, but he liked that about her. She was sexy as hell with her attitude that screamed ten foot tall and bullet proof.

He wanted Mhisery to experience something with him she had never had before. Total completion. He was an arrogant bastard; he wanted to know he was the best she had ever had and even after the weekend past, she would crave him. He was willing to work with that until she needed him on an emotional level. He meant what he told her, he wasn't going to give up easily.

Chance didn't have a fight lined up for a few weeks; which meant he had nothing to do —it was never good when Chance was left to his own devices. He didn't like alone. Alone reminded him of when his parents died, and he felt like he was abandoned by the people who were supposed to love him most. When he felt abandoned he sought out a connection which, usually, involved his dick. The time he was with a woman meant, at least for a little while, he wasn't alone.

Alyssa's mouth went dry at the sight of Chance as he opened the door. His chest was bare, with faint droplets of water covering the tattooed bundle of hotness known as her friend.

She doesn't fall for my redneck-Romeo shit. You know her though, it's Alyssa Blair.

Maybe this time Quinn could bare his heart and soul to Mhisery, let her see all of him, and maybe, just maybe, if he were lucky enough, she would find the bright lights of New York would never match the stars of Georgia.

Quinn held Mhisery tight to his chest, offering his strength to her when he could see she was closer to breaking than she ever had in his company.

Mhisery couldn't help but laugh, Quinn was infectious . When he grinned, her world lit up.

Now, quit lookin' at my ass Ms. Bellemy and do some work. It's good for the soul , or some bullshit, I hear.

The porch held a wealth of memories for Quinn of times spent with his father; of more recent times when Quinn took the place of his dad to listen to his sisters, and more often than not, his brother. The area bled memories, and with a handful of lady-luck, it would hold a shit load more.

That was Clay's olive branch to Quinn, and if the sumbitch weren't as stubborn as a mule, he'd take it.

He had basically told Clay he wanted the job done and he wanted his woman safe — in a very veiled code. If it took throwing down a peace flag with the one man in Midnight, he could barely pass without glaring at, then he was willing to do it. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for Mhisery whether she knew it or not. The woman was buried in his heart and soul; he would tear out one or sell the other to make her happy.

She took a long breath in at the end of her sentence, feeling her voice break and knowing she was at the end of her emotional rope. She didn't want to run off the rails, and plow into Caleb.

She had her emotional release, now it was time to suck it up and take care of business.

He wanted to hear Mhisery scream, he wanted to know she was forgetting everything that was going on except what was happening between the two of them. He wanted her to release the guilt she felt about her daddy and what she should or shouldn't be doing. He just wanted her to let it all go and just be with him in the moment.

Mhisery took a deep breath, gave a small smirk along with a wink and said, “What are you waiting for? The South to rise again, fuck me!

He was doing what he had always promised her he would do, he was taking care of her . He was taking it all away so she didn't have to think about anything but him. A lone tear fell from her eye and slid down her cheek as her heart swelled with love for the man who was fucking her senseless so she could have some sort of peace in the world, if only for a short time.

There wasn't an inch of Mhisery that Quinn didn't find gorgeous, from her brain, to her body to her tightly guarded heart.

Can I ask you why there was the imprint of an ass on great-grandma's table? I got up the other morning and come in here to have my coffee. I sat down and got ready to read the paper , when low and behold I was confronted with the imprint of an ass on the table.

Button, I am pretty sure more than one Mason has had carnal knowledge of their partner at that table and not just me. Grandma included.

Clay sat back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk as he took a sip from his coffee cup. If these two assholes wanted to kill each other, he didn't care as long as they didn't get blood on the floor, or move one piece of furniture.

I thought you two used to be pretty good friends back in high school?” Clay lifted his mug again, his facial expression was not giving any indication of the amusement he felt. He thought someone needed to knock the hell out of Quinn Mason for a long time, and looked like Caleb was the one to do it. Quinn deserved it from Caleb, if for nothing more than the fact he had stuck his dick in the guy's sister. That was always a cause for an ass whooping between friends.

Are you two finished beatin' the hell out of each other? Mason, you slept with his sister, you know he deserved to get that punch in. Bellemy, you got your hit in. Now, leave it alone. He obviously loves her if he was willin' to call me for help.” Clay lifted his mug again, taking another sip before he continued. “Next one of you to throw a punch is out of here and won't get to know what is goin' on. It's a courtesy that I even let either of you in here or tell you the details of the investigation. Don't take advantage of my kind nature.

Chance could share shit like that with his brother. Chance shared everything with his brother. To him, Quinn was some sort of superhero who occasionally got knee-walking drunk, told great stories, could crack a joke, and pissed him off from time to time.

If Mason had half a brain he would shut up, sit down, and not provoke Caleb any more than possible. But something told him Quinn didn't have half a brain and even less patience

So, fiancé is it, now? I guess it was easier to say than to say she is the woman who took off on a brisk jog a thousand miles away from you shortly after the question was popped. Or sayin' you're the asshole her brother wants to kill for stickin' your dick in his sister after you were friends in high school.

Did you just say you were going to punch my brother or did I dream that too?

Baby, take me home. Take me to our home. Please.

Your mama can't find anything she likes in these little one. I also think mommy may have to go to jail for murdering Auntie Binny and Auntie Rena. We might also have to add Uncle Cale to the list too if he keeps griping mommy's ass over legalities of moving her business. Auntie Syra is going to get maimed if she asks to wear black one more time, or asks if her hair can be green.

. Oh, my future brother-in-law called me today to find out if any of my friends from New York might be interested in making a bad decision for the night. Since when did I become a pimp to get Chance laid? I thought he was bringing that lovely flower lady.

Now...get naked.” Quinn grinned and pulled Mhisery to her feet. Mhisery rolled her eyes as he pulled her to her feet. “Who says romance is dead. Not even married yet, and all I get is, get naked.

No matter what, baby, we are in this together from here on out.

Taking a seat on the bed, Serena pulled out a lingerie set and held it against her own chest, her brows shooting up as she looked at Corbin. “Does this even cover her nipples?

Hello ladies. If you form a line after I get my belly full, I will make sure you all get a dose of Chance. I'll knock those wrinkles right out. Mrs. Sellers, I will make sure to do that thing you like so much and always ask me for, since the hip replacement you can really get that leg up around your ears.

Mrs. Roberts, you remember when Mr. Roberts was out of town and you had me over? The thing we did with the pie? Who would have thought I could eat a whole pie, but then again who would have thought you could hold an entire pie down, well, down there?

Mrs. Conners I will take you last ‘cause I know you like it kinky. You are into some rough stuff and that black lacy teddy really is set off by all those blue veins on your thighs.

Clay’s brow’s furrowed as the yuppie, Yankee, tone filled his ear. Who the hell could be dating a yuppie in Midnight? Sure, one could end up with a Yankee; it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but a fucking yuppie?

Boy, as far as you’re concerned, my word is law, and you’re just a bitch without a number. Now, you keep on with this conversation, and I’ll have to hurt your sensitive little feelin’s. Fuckin’ yuppie.

I’ll have your fucking job for this, you animal-raping, backwoods, hillbilly.

Always work hard, never give up, and fight until the end because it's never really over until the whistle blows.

definitely

The Netscape offering changed that equation. Originally, Netscape planned to sell 3.5 million shares to the public at $14 each, a price that valued the company at about $500 million. Given that Netscape had posted only $17 million in sales—sales, not profits—during the previous six months, a half-billion-dollar valuation seemed highly optimistic. But not to investors looking for the next you-know-what. Netscape’s roadshows were mobbed; tech geeks who had never before bought a stock wanted to own the Navigator. One technology stock analyst said getting a session with Netscape’s management before the offering “was like getting a one-on-one with God.”3 With demand overwhelming, Netscape and Morgan Stanley, its underwriter, increased both the size and price of the offering, eventually selling 5 million shares at $28. Still, demand far outstripped supply; investors placed orders for 100 million shares, and Morgan Stanley had to decide which clients to favor with the limited number of shares it had available. “They don’t get any hotter than this,” the Journal reported the morning that Netscape opened for trading. With so much unmet demand, it was obvious that Netscape would begin trading far above the $28 offering. After struggling for hours to set a price, the Nasdaq’s market makers finally opened Netscape at $71 per share. It rose as high as $75 before settling back to end the day at $58.25. At that price the company was valued at more than $2 billion—one hundred times its trailing sales.

together.

But once the Griffons had started gelling, nobody had wanted to put up with her bad behavior anymore.

nestled

shimmery gold one, and then draped it on Zoe’s arm. “Some bling for your sling,” she joked, and we all cracked up. Frida and Jessi tried on some outfits, but I could tell it was bumming out Zoe a little bit because she couldn’t easily try anything on. “Maybe we should get going,” I said to Jessi as I nodded toward the door. Jessi looked up, and her eyes narrowed angrily. Wow, I’d had no idea Jessi was such a serious shopper. “Sorry,” I started, wondering what was up, but then I followed Jessi’s gaze and saw Mirabelle at the front of the store, browsing through a rack of earrings. “Hey, Mirabelle,” Jessi called out, and Mirabelle looked up, surprised to see her. Jessi gestured toward a mirror on the wall. “There’s

Don't you see? I deserve everything I got. I killed my baby, I killed my mother, hell, I even killed you at one point. This..." She pointed around the room. "...this is what I get...

And, you didn't kill your mother, quite the opposite, sweetheart. You showed her more compassion than she ever deserved.

You made the decision the rest of your family wasn't able to make. You decided to end her pain. Anne’s existence would have been pure torture if you would have kept her on life support. You showed her mercy, Mia, and I know she’s grateful for that.

Anne always gave me stuff growing up, granted most of it was stolen." A slight smile formed on her lips. "Maybe that was her way of trying. Possessions always seemed to equal love in her relationships." Mia recalled one time when her father failed to get Anne an expensive enough Valentine's present. In her eyes that meant he didn't love her, so she ran off to sleep with another man that night, dragging Mia in tow through the dark street. She was woken after the deed was done, and they made the two mile walk back home in the freezing cold. Once there, she was then made to apologize to her father for their leaving.

How did you get so wise?"  She faced him, tracing his lips with her finger. "Because of you.

I will never be able to repay you." "Allowing me to love you is payment enough.

Her knight was back in the midst of her mess as history was repeating itself.

However, there was someone who did, someone who always had, someone who would make sure she got out of this mess, and break the cycle of abuse—her knight.

guys love that! They need to feel wanted, like they're doing something right. They are sort of like a dog; always looking for ways to please their owners, and when they do something good, we reward them with treats.