Bombshell Movie Quotes

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The new acts' major influences were movies and their curvy queens Brigitte Bardot and Marilyn Monroe. With their big blonde hair, ample breasts, and highly fertile hips, these bombshells inspired women everywhere to exxagerate their own voluptuousness.
Dita Von Teese (Burlesque and the Art of the Teese / Fetish and the Art of the Teese)
Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul. -Marilyn Monroe, 1958
Mike Rothmiller (Bombshell: The Night Bobby Kennedy Killed Marilyn Monroe)
Blonde movie stars in the 1950s seem to have been pretty much divided between breathy bombshells (Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield) and slim, elegant swans (Grace Kelly, Eva Marie Saint). Producers didn’t really know what to do with Judy Holliday, a brilliant, versatile actress who simply didn’t fit into any easy category. Though she left behind a handful of delightful films, one can’t help feeling a sense of waste that her gifts were not better handled by Hollywood (or, for that matter, by Broadway). Perhaps, like Lucille Ball, Judy Holliday would have blossomed with a really good sitcom; but, unlike Lucy, she never got one.
Eve Golden (Bride of Golden Images)
You don’t seem to shock very easily.” I’m referring to our meeting in the hallway, when the redhead was grabbing my cock. “No, I don’t. My mom does porn, so…” She shrugs nonchalantly, dragging out her sentence. “You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t ever seen in one of her movies.” The bombshell has my eyes bugging out of my skull and I practically leap out of my chair. “What!” A burst of laughter spills from her lips and before I know it, she’s sputtering. Falling out of her seat, waving her hands around, trying to calm herself. “Sit down, sit down, I’m kidding. Oh my god, you should see your face.” “You’re an asshole.” “So you keep saying.” The smirk returns. “It’s like looking in the mirror, isn’t it?
Sara Ney (The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag, #1))
Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul." -Marilyn Monroe, 1958
Mike Rothmiller (Bombshell: The Night Bobby Kennedy Killed Marilyn Monroe)
I rolled my eyes at him and pulled the sweatshirt over my head, adjusting the deep sweetheart neckline of my dress. I'd secretly and specifically purchased the gorgeous cherry-red vintage cocktail dress for this party. I had found a pair of black cat-eye glasses at a retro clothing store near Pike Place Market to go with the dress, and the combination made me feel confident and sophisticated. "Don't look for a minute," I instructed, shimmying out of my jeans and smoothing the hemline down. The dress nipped in at the waist and flared out in a high hemline that showed off my legs. "Okay, I'm good." Rory gave me a sideways glance and did a double take. "Wow." He pulled up to a stop sign and turned, taking me in head to toe. "You look...wow." He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words. I felt a flush of triumph. I'd never seen him look at me like that, admiration mixed with astonishment. He seemed genuinely stunned. I slicked on some red lipstick and examined my reflection in the tiny square of Rory's passenger mirror, aware of his eyes on me. I looked glamorous, surprisingly sexy. Like a movie starlet from the 1950s, a bombshell ingenue. I sat back, feeling almost giddy with triumph. I'd worn the dress for only one person. And he had finally noticed me.
Rachel Linden (The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie)
What do you want that couldn’t wait until the morning?” Arik asked as he led the way inside. The Pride’s king headed to the bar he’d had installed in the corner of his living room. He pulled a bottle of whiskey from a shelf. He poured them each a generous dollop. “I want permission to go after the Northern Lakes Pack.” “Am I going to regret asking why?” “They’re threatening Arabella.” “Who’s that?” “Jeoff’s sister.” Arik tossed back the fiery liquid before asking with a frown, “Why the fuck would I let you start a war over Jeoff’s sister?” “Because those pricks attacked us on home turf.” A snort escape Arik. “Ah yes, that puny attempt at a kidnapping. You caused quite a stir with your antics. Part of your stunt even made it onto YouTube before we could squash it. I had to have our PR department spin a Twitter thread on how it was part of a scene being taped for a movie.” “You can’t blame me for that. I had to stop them.” He did, but what he didn’t tell Arik was he’d never once thought of the repercussions of his actions. He saw Arabella in danger and had to go to her rescue. Bystanders and witnesses be damned. “I can see why you’d feel like you had to act. I mean, they made you look silly by catching you off guard like that, but, next time, could you be a little more discreet?” “No.” Why lie? The reply took his leader aback. “What do you mean no? Discretion is a fact of life. One girl isn’t worth drawing undue attention to ourselves.” “One girl might not be, but my mate is.” Want to stop conversation dead? Drop a bombshell. “Close your mouth, Arik, before you catch flies.” Only Arik’s mate could hope to tease him like that and get away with it. Dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, Kira emerged from the bedroom and perched on a barstool. “Did you hear what he said?” a still astonished Arik demanded. “Yes. He’s fallen victim to the love bug. I think it’s cute.” “I would have said impossible,” Arik muttered. “You and me both, old friend. But, the fact of the matter is, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that Arabella is supposed to be mine.” “And the one percent that isn’t sure?” “Is going to get eaten by my lion.
Eve Langlais (When a Beta Roars (A Lion's Pride, #2))