Hook Line And Sinker Tessa Bailey Quotes

You can’t live life worrying about what people will think. You’ll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy.

I could tell by the way you looked at her, she was something real special.” “How did I look at her?” He was afraid to find out. “Ah, son. Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

Doesn’t feel like enough to say I love you at this point.” “Our love is always enough. It’s always more than enough.

You make me feel like I’m in the exact right place.

I've never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

Hannah had a playlist consisting of 308 love songs and not one of them could describe this moment accurately. Not even close.

Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?” “Yes.” “With you? All the time.

I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.

If you’re laughing with them, they can’t laugh at you, right?

I’m far from immune to you.

Hannah, I can't answer what I don't know," he said through stiff lips. "What do you want me to say? Do I want to fuck you? Yes. Oh my god, I" -- his eyes closed briefly, those fisherman's hands flexing on the steering wheel-- "I want you underneath me so bad that I can't lie in bed without already feeling you there. I've never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

Just get off the bus somewhere safe and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I'm sorry you fell in love with an idiot. I'm...Remember Seattle, you said we've been trying this whole time. Since last summer. To be in a relationship. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I do now. There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that's no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I'm coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I'm sorry.

But knowing he could help, knowing he could do something to potentially make her happy? That was like holding the keys to a kingdom.

I had it bad for you. If the convention didn't make it obvious, I thought for sure the Fleetwood Mac album would do it. I've got it so bad for you, Hannah. Really, really bad. I tried to keep you out of here. But you won't go. You're never going to go. You just won't.

But you can't take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. Because there's nothing about what we have. It's really, really good. You're wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you've done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You're worth the wait.

Jesus, Hannah," he whispered in a rough voice. "Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?" "Yes." She reached up and cradled his jaw. "With you? All the time.

There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that's no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I'm coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I'm sorry.

Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.

He'd never met anyone in his life that gave a shit as hard as Hannah. For other people.

You get this expression on your face when you listen to music, like you're trying to climb inside it. Right now, it looks like the door is locked and you can't get in.

You’re a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them?” He cleared his throat hard. “Even familiar . . . you’re a constant surprise.

Maybe, like the ocean, he could evolve.

Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

Hannah was the total opposite. When she decided to commit herself to someone or something, she went in one thousand percent. Loyalty to the people she cared about hummed in her blood. Loyalty made her Hannah.

You can't live life worrying about what people will think. You'll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy. With her. And no one else, especially the ones wagging their tongues, are going to be there to console you

Not everyone is fertile ground for fixing.

You can't live life worrying about what other people will think.

She was Eve in the Garden of Eden, and she'd just taken a bite from the apple.

Fox, listen to me. I don’t care how many different beds you’ve been in. I know you belong in mine.

What is it that you love so much about them?" "The fact that someone thought about me, I guess. Wanted me to feel special. I bet you hate them, don't you?" "You're a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them? Even familar...you're a constant surprise.

Mmmm. I like that idea. W-we can find out who we’ll become together. Without everyone around all the t-time.” “Whoever we become together, Hannah,” “I’m yours and you’re mine. So it’s always going to be right.” “I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.” “I’m hanging on to you, too, Fox Thornton,” “Never letting go.” “I’m in for the good, bad, and everything in between, Hannah.” “Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.

to save him from the middle of the ocean where he’d been existing without her for so long.

Paula,” Eleanor scolded through the barrier. “We’re in a church.” “The good Lord already knows my thoughts.

An actual shiver blew through him thinking of Hannah on the deck, fifteen-story waves building in the background. “If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, you’re to blame for my nightmares.” “I can just be in charge of the music on the boat.” “No.” “You got me feeling all romantic about the ocean. It’s your fault.

Maybe the crew would realize they were wrong about him after some time passed. After all, they were just following his lead, treating him like he asked them to.

Laugh with them, instead of being laughed at. Make the joke, instead of being the joke. And above all else, don’t let them see how much it all bothered him.

I had it bad for you.

February 5 FOX (9:10 AM): It’s raining here. Give me something moody to listen to. HANNAH (9:12 AM): Hmm. The National. Start with “Fake Empire.

It’s like I always say, a man doesn’t bring a woman to bingo unless he’s serious about her.

It's like I always say: A man doesn't bring a woman to Bingo unless he's serious about her.

But hell if he didn’t spend the whole night thinking about it.

You don’t miss her. He examined the churning in his chest. Well, that hadn’t worked.

He turned and took a beer out of the fridge, uncapping it with his teeth.

I want you underneath me so bad that I can’t lie in bed without already feeling you there. I’ve never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

The main-character moment?” “Yeah. You know, when you’ve got the perfect mood going, soundtrack to match. And you’re on a rainy road, feeling dramatic. You’re the star of your own movie. You’re Rocky training for the fight. Or Baby learning how to merengue in Dirty Dancing. Or you’re just crying over a lost love.” She turned slightly in the seat. “Everyone does it!

on the verge of what felt like true adulthood, they’d both been scared. But they’d been scared together, honest with each other every step of the way, and they’d become a formidable team.

Home.’ By Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.” He barely kept his hand from lifting to brush back her hair. “I don’t know that one,” he managed. “I’ll text it to you before I go to sleep. It’s perfect.

Hannah stepped into the house and immediately had to check her urge to find the person in charge of the playlist. If she let herself, she’d sit in the corner all night searching for the perfect next song

I just kind of stand around waiting for things to happen, while other people seem to make them happen so easily. I can help others—I like doing that—but I’m a supporting actress, not a leading lady. That’s what I meant by that.

When she straightened and her bare back landed flush against his heaving chest, she could only compare it to the breathless moment on a Ferris wheel when you hit the top the first time and the world spreads out in front of you, huge and wondrous.

But you can't take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. Because there's nothing wrong about what we have. It's really, really good. You're wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you've done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You're worth the wait.

It’s no big deal,” he said quickly, backing up to lean sideways against the doorjamb. Crossing his arms. Definitely not thinking about how easy it would be to prowl over her on that bed, tease her a little more, run his fingertips along that section of skin between her hip bones and waist, flirt until kissing turned into her idea, instead of his intention all along. He knew the dance moves well.

Hannah, it’s me. Please, please, get off the bus. I’m coming home right now. I’m . . .” His voice lost power. “Just get off the bus somewhere safe and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I’m sorry you fell in love with an idiot. I’m . . .” Find the words. Find the right words. “Remember in Seattle, you said we’ve been trying this whole time. Since last summer. To be in a relationship. I didn’t fully understand at the time, but I do now. There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that’s no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I’m coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I’m sorry.

And I wanted to be different, so I asked for harmonica lessons.” She tilted her head back, found his eyes in the dark. “Word to the wise, don’t ever learn the harmonica while you have braces.” “Hannah. Oh God. No.” His head fell back briefly, a laugh puffing out of him. “What happened?” “Our parents were in the Mediterranean, so we walked to our neighbor’s house and they were in France—” “Ah, yes. Typical neighborhood problems.” She snorted. “So their landscaper offered to drive me and Piper—who had actually peed her pants laughing—in the back of his truck.” She could barely keep her voice even, the need to giggle was so great. “We were driven to the closest hospital in the back of a pickup truck while the harmonica was stuck to my face. Every time I exhaled, the harmonica would play a few notes. People were honking . . .” His whole body was shaking with laughter, and Hannah could tell he’d finally, fully relaxed. The sexual tension didn’t leave completely, but he’d shelved it for now. “What did they say at the hospital?” “They asked if I was taking requests.

She gasped. “What do you mean? I won!” “Ah, no. You were the least-worst loser.

No the fuck you won’t.

You can’t live life worrying about what people will think. You’ll wake up one day, look at the calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy…and no one else, especially the ones wagging their tongues, are going to be there to console you.

Just get off the bus somewhere and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I'm sorry you fell in love with an idiot.

You're so damn beautiful, Hannah." Her amusement died down. "Happiness does that to a person.

Ви не можете прожити життя, турбуючись про те, що подумають люди

In the six months that she'd been gone, he'd noticed the sunrise more. He'd started paying attention to strangers, their actions. Listening to music. Even his job seemed to have more gravity to it. Hannah did that somehow. Made him look around and consider.

An intuition rippled in her fingertips until she had to grasp them together in her lap, and as more and more lyrics about a fisherman's growing dedication to his family passed Fox's lips, his image began to blur. But she couldn't blink to rid herself of the moisture, could only let it pool there, as if any movement might swipe the melody from the air rob her of the growing burn in the center of her chest.

He loved her humor, her tenacity and bravery, the way she defended the people she loved like a soldier in battle. He loved the fact that she didn't shy away from the tough subjects, even though they scared him in the moment. Her iron will, the way she closed her eyes and mouthed song lyrics like they were baptizing her. Her face, her body, her scent. She'd infiltrated him, become a part of him before he'd realized what was happening, and now...

I don't know what trying looks like for us. I just know that I want to.' 'Oh, Fox'... 'We've been trying this whole time.

How did I look at her?'... 'Ah, son. Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?” “Yes.” She reached up and cradled his jaw. “With you? All the time.

The affairs surrounded us at the time, took up all the air. We let it hurt our son, too. Let it turn into a shadow to follow you around. That's the real tragedy. Not the marriage.

You can't live life worrying about what people will think. You'll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy.

You can’t live life worrying about what people will think.

You can't take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. You can't live your life worrying about what people will think

Not everyone has to strive for greatness. Sometimes getting by is just as rewarding.

Can’t pry them apart with a butter knife. And you know what? Everyone is happy for them. You can’t live life worrying about what people will think. You’ll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy. With her. And no one else, especially the ones wagging their tongues, are going to be there to console you.

And I found an album that sang to me. Fleetwood Mac. Rumours.” A paltry description for a shock to the nervous system. “But it was expensive. At the time, me and Pipes were on a tight budget, so I didn’t buy it …

Do you love the ocean as much as Brendan does?” There she went, asking him questions that made him think. Questions that wouldn’t allow him to skate by with a quip—and he didn’t really like doing that with Hannah, anyway. He liked talking to her. Loved it, actually, even when it was hard. “I think we love it in different ways. He loves the tradition and structure of fishing. I love how wild nature can get. How it can be more than one thing. How it evolves. One year, the crabs are in one place, the next they’re in another. No one can … define the ocean. It defines itself.

That one afternoon six months ago at a vinyl convention in Seattle when she’d felt like the main character. Browsing through records with Fox Thornton, king crab fisherman and a lady-killer of the highest caliber. When they’d stood shoulder to shoulder and shared a pair of AirPods, listening to “Silver Springs,” the world just kind of fading out around them.

But instead he looked like a troublemaker angel that got booted out of heaven, all tall and well-built and resilient and capable-looking. On top of everything else, he had to have the most dangerous job in the United States, the knowledge of fear and nature and consequences in his sea-blue eyes.

How did I look at her?” He was afraid to find out. “Ah, son. Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

God, he is like a walking spank bank.

If LA gets one thing right, Peacock, it’s therapy.” “I don’t

Just like this.

Could Sergei tell just by looking at her? That she had plans that included gingery massage oil?

I’m good at being … supportive. You know? Giving advice and doling out helpful suggestions. When it comes to my own stuff, though … not so much.

Ladies. Let's end the night friends, huh?...Eleanor swung the blotter and got him right in the center of the forehead.

Fox “ what happened to you giving me time to pull my head out of my ass?” Hannah “six hours seamed like more than enough

has

You can’t live life worrying about what people will think. You’ll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy. With her. And no one else, especially the ones wagging their tongues, are going to be there to console you.

I love you, baby. Goddammit, I love you back. As long as that’s the case, everything will be fine—and it will always be the case. We’ll work on the details. Okay?

Build me a palace, please. How many floors, baby?

I suffered through that live-action Cats movie last night trying to score points with the wife. One fart–one–and I lost all my progress.' Fox bit back a smile. "No luck, huh?' 'Had to sleep on the couch,' grumbled the deckhand. 'Don’t take it so hard, man.' Fox shivered, despite the heat. 'That movie could dry up the Pacific.' 'I don't know, there's just something about Judi Dench…' Sanders mused.

Christ. Who am I anymore? He was trying to come up with a way to get Hannah into bed so they could have an entirely platonic sleepover. Did he even own a dick anymore?

Hannah was like a leaf blower aimed right at his undisturbed pile of possibilities, and damn, the hope felt kind of good. At the same time, he wanted them stuffed back under the tarp. Protected.

Fox “ you make me feel like I’m the exact right place… nothing to run or hide from. Nothing I want to avoid.” Hannah “ it’s OK to trust that feeling. I have it, too.

I want you underneath me so bad that I can't lie in bed without already feeling you there. I've never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

But here he was. Dying. Fucking dying to get home to his girl.

I suffered through that live-action Cats movie last night trying to score points with the wife. One fart—one—and I lost all my progress.