Trophy Husband Quotes

Don’t take this the wrong way. Don’t take this to mean I don’t like you, because I do. But I have totally wanted to get in your pants since the day I met you.

I need to make sure Chris isn’t an axe murderer who lures women with the whole “I can fix the camera your friend’s cat peed on” line, so I Google him.

I don’t even know if I have bones in my body anymore. I don’t know how I’m standing. I could melt under the sweet heat of his lips that are now tracing a line down my chest to the very top of my breasts, as he tugs gently at my shirt, giving himself room to leave one more brush of his lips, before he stops.

His hands cup my face as if he’s claiming me, saying you’re mine with his lips and his hands and the way he draws me in close, his thumb tracing a line along my jaw. It’s such a small gesture, but such a poetically possessive one and I arch my back, inviting more.

Giving me orders already? I like that. Makes me feel like a boy toy.

May the next man in McKenna's life be one of those heroes in a romance novel - rich, good-looking and perfect in every way.

Am I dying?” “Yes.” “Can you cure me?” Luthe sighed. “I’m not sure. I think so. Had not…” “Had not I listened to Maur’s head, I would have come here long since,” Aerin said dreamily. “Had it not told me that I could not win against the Black Dragon, for no one could, I might have believed that there was enough left of my life to be worth healing; but I am Dragon-Killer, the least of my family, and if I have done a great thing, then I must die of it.” Her words floated on the air, half visible, like spider silk. “You are not the least of your family,” Luthe said violently; “your mother was worth seven of her husband, and you’ve the courage she had, or she’d not have borne you, and you would not be standing here now after Maur has done to you—and does to you yet.” Aerin stared at him. “Does to me yet?…They hung its skull in the great hall, and it spoke to me. I was stronger for a while, till I saw it there, and it spoke to me.” “Spoke—? His could anyone, even a hundred generations later, be so stupid as to bring back the Black Dragon’s head as a trophy and hang it on a wall for folk to gape at? Surely—” “I asked them to take it away—where no one might look at it again.” Luthe paced twice around the table before he said anything. “Dragon-Killer indeed. They do not know how lucky they are to have had you. To have had you at all. And I am fool enough to want to give you back to them.” Witchwoman’s daughter, Aerin thought. But I told Tor I would come back if I could.

served as CEO of two public companies, even temporarily, and I wasn’t even sure it was legal. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was enjoying spending more time with my family. I was torn. I knew Apple was a mess, so I wondered: Do I want to give up this nice lifestyle that I have? What are all the Pixar shareholders going to think? I talked to people I respected. I finally called Andy Grove at about eight one Saturday morning—too early. I gave him the pros and the cons, and in the middle he stopped me and said, “Steve, I don’t give a shit about Apple.” I was stunned. It was then I realized that I do give a shit about Apple—I started it and it is a good thing to have in the world. That was when I decided to go back on a temporary basis to help them hire a CEO. The claim that he was enjoying spending more time with his family was not convincing. He was never destined to win a Father of the Year trophy, even when he had spare time on his hands. He was getting better at paying heed to his children, especially Reed, but his primary focus was on his work. He was frequently aloof from his two younger daughters, estranged again from Lisa, and often prickly as a husband. So what was the real reason for his hesitancy in taking over at Apple? For all of his willfulness and insatiable desire to control things, Jobs was indecisive and reticent when he felt unsure about something. He craved perfection, and he was not always good at figuring out how to settle for something less. He did not like to wrestle with complexity or make accommodations. This was true in products, design, and furnishings for the house. It was also true when it came to personal commitments. If he knew

We’d just taken Pixar public, and I was happy being CEO there. I never knew of anyone who served as CEO of two public companies, even temporarily, and I wasn’t even sure it was legal. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was enjoying spending more time with my family. I was torn. I knew Apple was a mess, so I wondered: Do I want to give up this nice lifestyle that I have? What are all the Pixar shareholders going to think? I talked to people I respected. I finally called Andy Grove at about eight one Saturday morning—too early. I gave him the pros and the cons, and in the middle he stopped me and said, “Steve, I don’t give a shit about Apple.” I was stunned. It was then I realized that I do give a shit about Apple—I started it and it is a good thing to have in the world. That was when I decided to go back on a temporary basis to help them hire a CEO. The claim that he was enjoying spending more time with his family was not convincing. He was never destined to win a Father of the Year trophy, even when he had spare time on his hands. He was getting better at paying heed to his children, especially Reed, but his primary focus was on his work. He was frequently aloof from his two younger daughters, estranged again from Lisa, and often prickly as a husband. So what was the real reason for his hesitancy in taking over at Apple? For all of his willfulness and insatiable desire to control things, Jobs was indecisive and reticent when he felt unsure about something. He craved perfection, and he was not always good at figuring out how to settle for something less. He did not like to wrestle with complexity or make accommodations. This was true in products, design, and furnishings for the house. It was also true when it came to personal commitments. If he knew for sure a course of action was right, he was unstoppable. But if he had doubts, he sometimes withdrew, preferring not to think about things that did not perfectly suit him. As happened when Amelio had asked him what role he wanted to play, Jobs would go silent and ignore situations that made him uncomfortable.

Guys need to be affirmed. We need to know our efforts are meeting and exceeding expectations at home, on the job, in any and every battlefield, and in the bedroom. Especially with you, our helpmate and soul mate who knows us better than anyone. When our careers are crumbling, we need to know you trust us to provide. When the precocious children down the street are getting trophies, blue ribbons, and college scholarships, we need to know our kids are turning out just fine, thank you. When life is passing by, we desperately need to hear that you “love your life.

I’m looking for a trophy husband, myself,” said Mandi. “Yeah, but she has trouble getting them to stay up on the mantle,” I said.

How many times are we held back because we’re not good enough either? How many days are we discouraged because we don’t realize the extent of God’s grace? I’m not a perfect wife, but I cling to the verse in Proverbs 12:4, “A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband.” With joy I’m reminded that I’d rather be a crown than a trophy wife, and that I’d rather have virtue than vogue. Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. – Proverbs 31:10 You’re so much more than just another pretty face; you’re deeply loved by a God Who numbers your hair. The same God who painted spots on ladybugs' backs, and lights up our skies with fireflies created you, redeemed you, and knows you by name. Have you surrendered your life to the Lord? Here’s merely a glimpse of who we become through His grace:

First of all, Mr. Cheating Bastard, this is no time to be insulting my car-care abilities, and secondly, she doesn't want to talk to you." He hung his head. "It is true, I have been a bad husband, a stupid man, and a careless friend, but I love my wife and I must talk to her." He really looked dreadful, which was satisfying. I shook my head. "Did you just arrive?" He nodded. "Then you haven't unpacked yet, which will save you some time. Go back to Italy, Berto, back to your little girlfriend." "She is gone. It is over." I switched over to disgusted frown. "Well. Maggie is not a consolation prize, shithead. She's the trophy, the Pulitzer, the Nobel. The fact that your girlfriend dumped you means nothing. Go home.

pussy when she came back to reality. "No, I can't let my emotion rule me. You have a husband and a family

Maribelle Wegman is known as the widow Wegman. Married four times. Three dead husbands. Not her fault, but having managed the hat trick already, she has been given the trophy to keep.

Why was it so wrong that I tried to seek out a trophy husband? The only difference was that my golden trophy turned out to be cheap old brass underneath his glossy exterior, and actually had the audacity to blackmail me.

It’s clear that no one expected these words from Pop. Even I know he’s not prone to earnest confessions or sincere affection. His granddaughters are obviously surprised and touched. Sam wipes a tear from her eye. Chelsea hides her face briefly in her husband’s shoulder. And Trevor reaches over to cover Melissa’s hand on the table.

What? Oh yes, fine. Just looking for Damian.” “I think I saw him trapped by old Mrs. Pennyworth back there. She talks nonstop.” “Oh. Okay.” It’s a relief that he has a good reason for disappearing. And after all, I’m fine by myself. “That was a great toast Pop made.

Clarke? Are you all right?” It’s Damian’s voice. I’d recognize it anywhere even though it’s currently muffled by the door. I try to answer but can’t get my voice to work. “Baby? I’m coming in.” The door swings open. He’s looking as good as he did last night but wearing a different suit today. He’s so handsome and sexy and suave that I suddenly have no idea what I’m even doing with the man. I don’t belong with him.

I’ve told you before not to call me prickly. That’s a word that men use about women who don’t cave to them, who don’t swoon before their manliness.” “Damn it, Melissa. I don’t expect you to cave or swoon. I’d just like to occasionally be able to have a conversation without you acting like I’m attacking you.

Thou still unravish’d shaft of breathtaking length and girth.

Shallow. Harmless. A little bit stupid. Crazy in love with you. Needs access to every part of the house. Let’s see . . . Who am I? Well, Roman’s trophy wife, of course. I am pretty, elegant, and extremely snobbish. I love wearing expensive clothes, just the best labels. I’m not really into dresses unless the occasion requires it. I much more prefer designer jeans, paired with silky blouses. The heels are a must.” She pauses, opens her eyes, and turns toward me. “Are heels a must, do you think?” She scrunches her tiny nose. “Of course they are. Damn it. I hate wearing heels.” She closes her eyes again and continues. “The heels are a must, and I have dozens of them. Roman loves when I wear them, he says they make my butt look amazing. I’m also very self-conscious about my height, and wearing heels all the time makes me forget how short I am. My favorite pastime is shopping, and I buy a ton of clothes. My husband has to allocate one driver specifically for me and my shopping sprees.” Another pause and she turns toward me again. “Roman, I’ll need funds to support her addiction with clothes. She is an impulse buyer.” “You’ll get anything you need,” I laugh. She’s completely nuts. “My husband is crazy about me, and he allows me to do whatever I want with the house, like rearrange furniture, so the vibe of the house works better with the earth vibrations. The house feels terribly cold, so I buy a bunch of indoor plants and spread them everywhere. I also tour every single room because I want to make sure the unobstructed energy flows, so I rearrange paintings and mirrors. I also hate the dining room table, it’s so overstated, and I decide to swap it with a sleek glass one I found in an interior design magazine.” Another pause. “This woman is expensive, Roman. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I’ll manage.” “Your funeral.” She shrugs and continues. “My husband doesn’t like it when he’s interrupted, but of course, that doesn’t apply to me. I often come into his office just to check up on him and exchange a few kisses. It annoys his men so much. They wonder what he sees in me and why he allows me so much freedom, and then decide he’s thinking with his dick. I’m always around, and they hate it.

What did she do?” Stryker asked. “She went home and slit her wrists.” “How do you know she saw the billboard?” Stryker asked. “She called and left a voice mail for her sister before she did it,” Agent Bishop said. “She said she had seen the billboard, she knew her husband was the Traveling Salesman, and to tell the police to search his hunting cabin, which of course turned up all the trophies he had collected from his victims.” “Holloway didn’t make any attempts to give up her husband as a killer, though,” Connor pointed out. “No, but it is interesting to note that your department leaked the detail about the bite marks only a few days before Holloway went into the river.

Untrustworthy people, by their nature, demand attention because they are loose cannons.

Instead I understood evangelical to be an adjective synonymous with “real” or “authentic.” There were Christians, and then there were evangelical Christians like us. Only evangelicals were assured salvation. Everyone else was lukewarm and in danger of being spewed out of God’s mouth. Our Catholic neighbors were doomed. Nine-hundred miles away, in Princeton, New Jersey, my future husband was winning trophies in the pinewood derby at Montgomery Evangelical Free Church, which for many years he took to mean was a church free of evangelicals, like sugar-free gum. “But aren’t evangelicals the good guys?” he remembers asking his mother. How early we learn to identify our tribes.

Trophy wives, to be paraded at social events like dolls, hanging on their husbands’ arms as if they were another medal. The force liked married men, even in these days of equal opportunities. Having a stable home life helped a man like David to rise up the ranks.