Passenger Princess Morgan Elizabeth Quotes

Shoulders back, tits out, bitch. You were born for great things.

I know God has to be a woman because no man has a sense of humor this good.

Why should I live my life any differently simply because men exist?

Clumsy girls are the best girls. We’re having too much fun to worry about silly things like gravity.

A real passenger princess, aren't you?" "The only real way to travel," I say with a smile.

So yeah, there will be a second date. And a third date. If I get my way, a one-hundredth date. A take-my-last-name-and-put-a-ring-on-your-finger, date down the line if I'm really lucky.

Plus, who doesn’t love the idea of love? Of falling in love and falling in lust. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. When you read romance, you get to watch it over and over in different ways—what’s there not to love?

See ya later, big guy,” I say as I teeter on my tall heels in front of him and pat his chest. “You know, you’d be a lot hotter if you were just a smidge.” I hold up my pointer finger and thumb, pinching them so there’s a tiny gap between my fingers. “Less grumpy.” “Noted,” he says, and even though he fights it, I can see it: the tiniest hint of a smile, the whisper of it on the edges of his lips. “Get home safe, princess.

When everything is in, I grab my car bag and start to set up the passenger seat for myself, pulling out my fluffy pink blanket. "What are you doing?" he asks, his hand on the top of the car door, watching me as I drape my blanket over the seat just in case I get chilly. "What?" "Get in the car. What are you doing?" "I'm setting up my seat. We've got, like, a four-hour drive.

Jesus, you could have died, Ava.” “So you were worried about me?” she asks, a smile on her lips. “It’s my job, Ava.” “Mm-hmm, I guess. Or it’s because you like me,

And I remember what I’ve been saying for the past three months: inspiring the followers I accidentally accumulated and using it as a platform to encourage women and girls to bet on themselves, take a chance on themselves, and do one thing that scares them every day. Shoulders back, tits out, bitch. You were born for great things.

This is how it works, Ava. I kiss you. Every time, I kiss you, and I do it in a way that you can never forget what it's like to be kissed by a man wholly and completely obsessed with you.

You said you love the idea of falling in love. I don't, Ava. I love being in love with you, and I love the idea of you getting your happily ever after every damn day. I love the idea of spending forever making sure you're treated like a queen and that you have everything you want in life. That you'll always have someone at your side cheering you on and watching your ass while you do it.

No, sweetheart. If you were mine, I'd take you everywhere. Anywhere. Show you off any chance I got. A woman like you, you don't tell her what to do, what to wear. You let her do it, then prepare to watch her ass as she moves, stay alert while she lives her life, ensuring no harm comes to her. You make it so she never has to realize there's a world outside of her bubble that isn't sunshine and rainbows.

bet on themselves, take a chance on themselves, and do one thing that scares them every day. Shoulders back, tits out, bitch. You were born for great things.

But you…you don’t have a man?” he asks, seeming confused. “Nope.” “Why not?” I shrug. “Haven’t found anyone I like enough to spend more than a couple weeks with. Life is too short for that. I’ve seen friends date men who are all kinds of wrong for them just because it was comfortable or he checked just enough boxes to make sense. I don’t want someone who makes sense. I want someone I’m crazy for.” I shrug again, feeling much too under the microscope for comfort. “When I find him, I’ll know, and that will be that. Could be next week, could be in forty years. I’m not putting my life on hold just because I’m waiting for some man.

Because have you met men these days? I barely trust them to take me to dinner, much less choke me while they fuck me.

I probably would be if I had anyone else with me. Lucky for me, I’ve got a Jaime, so I know you’d never let anything happen to me.

Then his hand, calloused and rough and huge, wraps around my throat. "A man gets you here; what do you do?" I smile. It's not that I'm not taking this seriously that makes me smile. It's more that taking it too seriously will be a complete system overload for me and send me into a panicked spiral I might never crawl out of. And, of course, the way he looks so freaking serious makes me want to be the complete opposite. "Call him daddy?

Sorry, Anne. But people love a good true crime story, so maybe write the memoir anyway. It might help pay for your attorney fees.

Everything this woman does rubs me in a way that makes me want to simultaneously strangle her and drag her into a room to fuck her until she can't argue with me anymore.

Ava Bordeaux is the first thing I think about the moment I wake up and the last thing I think about as I'm falling asleep, and it has nothing to do with my need to protect her. Not even a little.

Funny thing is, unlike you, I’m exactly like other girls, and I’m grateful for that. I love being relatable and approachable. I like pink frilly things, bows, and makeup. I love getting my fancy coffees, reading my silly little romance books, and listening to the same music as other girls because it’s fun. The only difference between me and other girls, like, say, you, is I don’t judge people for what they do or do not like. I just let them live their best lives and cheer them on.

But something tells me that even though she’s all pink princess energy, she’s a rottweiler when she wants something.