Lucy Knox Quotes

From here on out, if anyone says they have a right to decide what to do with your body, kid, you kick ’em in the ass, then come find me,” Knox told her.

She turned to Knox. “And you were right about Nash getting hurt and now you’re both mad at each other for that.” “Well, breakfast didn’t help,” Knox admitted. Naomi closed her eyes. “Is that why you were such a bridezilla with the florist yesterday?” “Baby’s breath is stupid. Fight me,” he said.

Heard you and Knox got into screaming matches at the cafe and Honky Tonk, and then he apologized, but you broke a chair over his head, and he needed six stitches.

Because Knox didn’t want to be. Because when it came down to it, no one ever really chose me.

What the hell kind of name was that? Was it a hard Knox life? Did he tell a lot of Knox Knox jokes? Was it short for something? Knoxwell? Knoxathan?

A humble, bootstrappy patriot, Knox wooed, then married Lucy Flucker, the highbrow daughter of the Loyalist governor of the province of Massachusetts.

Do not get out of your fucking car until your dad comes out to get you.” “Knox, it’s the middle of the night—” “I don’t give a shit if it’s the middle of his colonoscopy.

He winced. “Great. Lina just texted. The girls are making margaritas.” Knox put down his bourbon. “Fuck.

I can’t believe you got me out of bed with Naomi for this,” Knox complained. “Same here.” “Your brother was in bed with Lina,” Lucian tattled. “The fuck he was. The fuck you were,” Knox said, swinging my way. “Don’t you fucking start,” I warned. “I told you to stay away from her.

Like others who had once enjoyed an elite lifestyle, Lucy craved its return and whenever opportunity arrived, attempted to recreate it...By then no one questioned Lucy's role as the reigning hostess of celebrations, a role she continued to hold in public celebrations during the early Federal period.

You want me to leave, gonna have to make me.” “I’m sorry. He’s been like this all morning,” I explained to Nash. “Honey, he’s been like this his entire life,” the chief countered. It didn’t hit me until they turned identical glares on each other. “You’re brothers, aren’t you?” “No shit,” Knox grumbled.

Knox said it’s good to stand up for people. That it’s up to the strong ones to take care of the ones who need protecting. He said I’m one of the strong ones.

And we’ve got women too good for us.” Knox shot me a pointed look. “Well, two outta three.” “Way too damn good for us,” Nash agreed. Knox raised his glass. “May they never come to their senses.

My brother clocked me before I made it two steps inside. He was in his standard uniform of jeans, battered motorcycle boots, beard, and an air of “fuck around and find out.” Knox always appeared to be looking for a fight. Beside him stood Lucian Rollins in a suit that probably cost more than my first car. He was tall, dark, and also dangerous, but in a different way.

Lina didn’t float down the aisle, she marched. Her father nearly had to jog to keep up with those long, purposeful strides. Her gaze never left Nash’s face. And when the happy couple joined hands and stared into each other’s eyes with a blinding joy, there were tears from the entire bridal party. Well, okay. There were tears from Naomi and me. Knox and Lucian were mostly stoic and manly.

I’m serious. I pegged Knox and his baggage within thirty seconds of meeting him. But you carry yours closer. Like it’s in an emotional fanny pack.

My breath hitched. “Knox,” I whispered. “Right here, baby. What happened?

I had just poured the eggs into the skillet when I felt arms around my waist and a face press into my back. “I’m sorry Knox was a douchewaffle, Aunt Naomi,” Waylay said,

Why are you whispering?” “Because he lives right there,” I said, pointing my glass in the direction of Knox’s cabin. “Oooh. Grumpy next-door neighbor. That’s one of my favorite tropes.

No shit,” Knox grumbled. “Sure are,” Nash said,

Knox won the lottery?” I asked dryly. “Eleven million. Couple of years back.

Where Knox was more likely to punch you in the face if you pissed him off, Lucian was the type to methodically and creatively destroy your life.

Don’t you worry about your aunt. She’s proud as hell of you. But you’re only holding yourself back when you blow up like that. So let’s give her something else to be proud about. Yeah?” She sighed. Then nodded again. “Yeah. Okay. But I get to swear when we watch football?” “Damn right you do,” Knox said, ruffling her hair. “And when I’m not in school anymore?” “You can swear as much as you fucking want after you’re out of college. Maybe grad school too, if you want a PhD or some shit.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, get your ass out there and put the ball in the back of the net so we can get ice cream after.” “But it’s morning,” she said, again looking at me as if I were some anti-swearing, anti-ice cream monster. “No better time for ice cream than after a big win,” he assured her. She grinned up at him. “Okay. Thanks, Knox. Sorry, Aunt Naomi.

Knox, on the other hand, looked like a villain who’d gone a few rounds with the good guy and come out victorious.

Knox always tried to distance himself from every single problem while Nash got in there and tried to fix everything. He always wanted to make things right, even when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about them.

Knox said every day with their dad felt like a lie. He’d swear he was sober or promise he’d never use again. He’d commit to picking them up after school or tell them he’d be at their football games. But he just kept letting them down. Over and over again. One lie after another.

Hey, do you guys think I should lose the ’stache?” “Yes,” Knox said. “It makes me want to punch you in the face.

looked more like one of those co-working hangouts that urban hipsters liked than an actual police station. It had annoyed the boys and girls in blue who had taken pride in their moldy, crumbling bunker with its flickering fluorescent lights and carpet stained from decades of criminals. Their annoyance at the bright paint and slick new office furniture was the only thing I didn’t hate about it. The Knockemout PD did their best to rediscover their roots, piling precious towers of case folders on top of adjustable-height bamboo desks and brewing too cheap, too strong coffee 24/7. There was a box of stale donuts open on the counter and powdered sugar fingerprints everywhere. But so far nothing had taken the shine off the newness of the fucking Knox Morgan Building. Sergeant Grave Hopper was behind his desk stirring half a pound of sugar into his coffee. A reformed motorcycle club member, he now spent his weeknights coaching his daughter’s softball team and his weekends mowing lawns. His and his mother-in-law’s. But once a year, he’d pack up his wife on the back of his bike, and off they’d go to relive their glory days on the open road. He spotted me and my guest and nearly upended the entire mug all over himself. “What’s goin’ on, Knox?” Grave asked, now

Ouch! Damn it!" "Waylay! Language!" I yelled. "Sorry!" she called back. "Busted," Knox sang not quite guietly enough. "Knox!" "Sorry!" I shook my head.

Ouch! Damn it!" "Waylay! Language!" I yelled. "Sorry!" she called back. "Busted," Knox sang not quite quietly enough. "Knox!" "Sorry!" I shook my head.

A movement in the shrubbery caught my eye. Knox Morgan, wearing camouflage and green face paint, rose out of a rhododendron with his phone. He gave me the thumbs-up.

An uppity, needy pain in the ass. So that’s what the gorgeous, bad-tempered Knox Morgan saw when he looked at me.

My mother gave me an incredibly inappropriate double thumbs-up as Knox turned his back on us and zipped the fly of his jeans.

answer, just strode into the parking lot with rigid shoulders. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but there were a lot of fuck yous and kiss my asses. I added “phone etiquette” to the growing list of things Knox Morgan was bad at. He returned looking even angrier. Ignoring me, he produced a wallet and fished out a few bills, then fed them into the soda machine. “What do you want?” he muttered. “Uh. Water, please.” He punched the buttons harder than I thought necessary. And a bottle of water and two Yellow Lightnings fell out onto the ground. “Here.” He shoved the water at me and headed back to the room. “Uh. Thanks?” I called after him. I debated for about thirty seconds whether or not I should just start walking until I found a new reality that was less terrible. But it was just a mental exercise. There was no way I could walk away. I had a new responsibility. And with that responsibility would come some sense of purpose. Probably. I returned to my room and found Knox examining the lock on the door. “No finesse,” he complained. “Told her she should’ve picked it,” Waylay said, cracking open her soda. “It’s barely eight

That’s just it, Knox. I do understand. I understand that you cared, and it scared you. I understand that Waylay and I weren’t reward enough to get you to face that fear. I get it. I’m dealing. You made the call, now you have to deal with the consequences

Knox Morgan! Why is our daughter electrocuting our guests?

The name is Knox. And why are you here?” What the hell kind of name was that? Was it a hard Knox life? Did he tell a lot of Knox Knox jokes? Was it short for something? Knoxwell? Knoxathan?

Knox said it's good to stand up for people. That it's up to the strong ones to take care of the ones who need protecting.

Listen, Knox. Women have this sixth sense when we’re being served up half-truths.

The second you think you’re as good as or better than your woman is the second it all starts goin’ to hell,” Knox said. I swiped my bleeding mouth across my sleeve and took another drag. “So you’re just supposed to what? Drag them down to your level?” Knox threw a pea-sized piece of gravel at me. “No, you fucking moron. You’re supposed to spend the rest of your lucky-ass life trying to live up to them.” “That sounds exhausting.” “It sure ain’t for the faint of heart,” Jeremiah said.

My wife insists they’re getting ready for bed,” Knox said, holding up his phone. “Your wife and my fiancée are beautiful liars,” Nash said, getting up to stretch.

Life’s fuckin’ funny sometimes,” Knox mused.

Ouch! Damn it!” “Waylay! Language!” I yelled. “Sorry!” she called back. “Busted,” Knox sang not quite quietly enough. “Knox!” “Sorry!” I shook my head. “What are we going to do with them?” I asked Waylon.

Knox took one look at her and dropped to a crouch, his hands shaking as they clutched the handkerchief to his face.

Lou, Knox’s soon-to-be father-in-law, harrumphed. “In my day, we didn’t need bachelor parties or ice sculptures or engagement brunches. We showed up at the church on a Saturday, said ‘I do,’ someone fed us some ham salad sandwiches, and then we went the hell home. What the hell ever happened to that?” “Women,” Lucian said dryly.

I couldn’t believe Knox Morgan was naked in my bed. Oh, God. Knox Morgan was naked. In my bed.

I waited for the stampede of regrets to charge through my brain like bison on a dusty prairie. But it seemed my body was too sated to allow for that. Knox had banged my brain and body into submission.

I needed to get out of this bed because if Knox woke up and gave me a sleepy-eyed stare, I’d throw caution to the wind and hop right back on that cock of his without another thought.

Friendship didn’t describe what I felt for her. I was friends with Knox and Nash Morgan. But I sure as hell wouldn’t curl up with them in a pillow nest to listen to music.

Well, Daisy. It means my dick doesn’t care that you’re not my type. It’s still standing up, trying to get your attention.” She was quiet for a long beat. “You’re too much work. Come with too many complications. And you wouldn’t be satisfied with just a quick fuck.” “I believe Knox Morgan just said he couldn’t satisfy me. If only I had a phone to immortalize that statement on social media.

He makes you smile.” “What?” “Knox. He makes you smile. A lot. And he looks at you like he likes you a lot.

Waling the lush grounds overlooking the Potomac, sipping tea, or engaged in needle work in one of Mount Vernon's wainscoted parlors, the two matrons must have made a remarkable contrast; Martha, its soft-spoken mistress, and Lucy, her warm but high-strung 'northern' guest.

Today Lucy would probably be considered a victim of an obsessive-compulsive behavior disorder, a psychological means of reducing anxieties through the numbing repetition of an activity.

Warner. Grr. Tina. Ugh. Car. Damn it. Waylay. Holy crap. Cottage. Adorable. Knox. Grumpy, sexy, horrible, yet helpful.

Did something happen with Knox?” she asked softer now. I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat, but I was choking on unshed tears. “Okay. Let’s go sit down,” she said, guiding

I’m hilarious and you’re having the best fucking time,” Knox insisted on a near snarl.

I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. “Knox.” “What?” he asked the carpet. “Look at me.” When he did, I saw the frustration etched on his gorgeous face. I cupped his cheeks in my hands. His beard was coarse against my palms. “I’m going to tell you something that you and your brother both need to know, and I need this to resonate in your soul,” I said. His eyes locked on mine. Well, more on my mouth than my eyes. But it was good enough. “You’re both idiots.