Joan Johnston’s Top 10 Popular and Famous Quotes

Ten of My Favourite Joan Johnston Quotes 

Love reading? Then it’s likely you will love a good quote from your favourite author. This article covers Joan Johnston’s Top 10 Popular and Famous Quotes that we at Australia Unwrapped have collected from some of his greatest works. Joan Johnston quotes to remember and here you will find 10 of the best. A memorable quote can stay with you and can be used along your journey. Choosing Joan Johnston’s top 10 quotes is not easy, but here they are:

Popular Quotes

“Cowboys are always leaping from their horses in the movies, and they never get hurt.”
“You forgot to roll.”
“Oh. I knew I did something wrong.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

 “I hurt my hip, too.”
“Let me see.”
She made a face and yelped when her cheek protested even that slight movement. “You don’t need to see my hip. It’s fine.”
“If the skin’s broken, it’ll need cleaning, too,” he said, unbuckling her belt.
“Stop that.”
“Think of me as your doctor,” he said, as he unsnapped and then unzipped her jeans.
“My doctor doesn’t usually undress me,” she snapped. “And my patients already come undressed.”
He laughed. “Life your hips,” he said. “Up!” he ordered, when she hesitated.
She put her one good hand on his shoulder to brace herself and lifted her hips as he pulled her torn jeans down. To her surprise, her bikini underwear was shredded, and the skin underneath was bloody. “Uh-oh.”
She was still staring at the injury on her hip when she felt him pulling off her boots. She started to protest, saw the warning look in his eyes, and shut her mouth. He pulled her jeans off, leaving her legs bare above her white boot socks. “Was that really necessary?”
“You’re decent,” he said, straightening the tails of her Western shirt over her shredded bikini underwear. “I can put your boots back on if you like.”
Bay shook her head and laughed. “Just get the first-aid kit, and let me take care of myself.”
He grimaced. “If I’m not mistaken, you packed the first-aid kit in your saddlebags.”
Bay winced. “You’re right.” She stared down the canyon as far as she could see. There was no sign of her horse. “How long do you think it’ll take him to stop running?”
“He won’t have gone far. But I need to set up camp before it gets dark. And I’m not hunting for your horse in the dark, for the same reason I’m not hunting for your brother in the dark.”
“Where am I supposed to sleep? My bedroll and tent are with my horse.”
“You should have thought of that before you started that little striptease of yours.”
“You’re the one who shouted and scared me half to death. I was only trying to cool off.”
“And heating me up in the process!”
“I can’t help it if you have a vivid imagination.”
“It didn’t take much to imagine to see your breasts,” he shot back. “You opened your blouse right up and bent over and flapped your shirt like you were waving a red flag at a bull”
“I was getting some air!”
“You slid your butt around that saddle like you were sitting right on my lap.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Then you lifted your arms to hold your hair up and those perfect little breasts of yours—”
“That’s enough,” she interrupted. “You’re crazy if you think—”
“You mean you weren’t inviting me to kiss my way around those wispy curls at your nape?”
“I most certainly was not!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She searched for the worst insult she could think of to sling at him. “You—you—Bullying Blackthorne!”
“Damned contentious Creed!”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

“She slipped into the shadows and waited, like a she-wolf, for her quarry.
Bay caught her breath when Owen Blackthorne stepped into the cool night air. He was close enough to touch. His shaggy black hair looked rumpled, as though he’d shoved both hands through it in agitation. When he started to move off the porch, Bay reached out and grasped his sleeve.
A second later she was slammed back against the wall, a powerful male hand at her throat choking her. She could feel the heat of him, the solid maleness of him. And panicked. She clawed at Owen’s flesh with her nails and drove her knee upward toward his genitals. Her thrust her upraised knee aside, and the full weight of his over-six-foot frame shoved hard against her from shoulders to thighs.
Bay froze, staring up at him in mute horror. Her body trembled in shock. She tried to speak, but there was no air to be had beneath the crushing pressure of his grip on her throat.
“What the hell . . .?” He released her throat and grabbed her arms to yank her into the narrow stream of light from the kitchen doorway.
She gasped a breath of air, coughed, then gasped another, pressing a shaky hand to her injured throat. She wrenched to free herself, but he let her go without a struggle and took a wary step back. She rubbed her arms where he’d held her, wishing she’d approached him more directly.
“What are you doing out here, Mizz Creed?” His voice was clipped but controlled. The violence she’d felt in his touch was still there in his eyes, which glittered with hostility.
“It’s Dr. Creed,” she rasped, glaring back at him.
He lifted a black brow. “Well, Dr. Creed.”
She opened her mouth to say I need your help. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing wrong with her voice. She just hated the thought of asking a Blackthorne for anything.
“I haven’t got all night,” he said. “There’s an emergency at the barn—”
“Ruby’s foal has already been delivered safely,” she said. “I made up that story because I wanted to speak privately with you.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

 “I never got to take you to the prom. You went with Henry Featherstone. And you wore a peach-colored dress.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Callie asked.
“Because I saw you walk in with him.”
“You didn’t know I was alive in high school,” Callie scoffed.
“You had algebra first period, across the hall from my trig class. You ate a sack lunch with the same three girls every day, Lou Ann, Becky and Robbie Sue. You spent your free period in the library reading Hemingway and Steinbeck. And you went straight home after school without doing any extracurricular activities, except on Thursdays. For some reason, on Thursdays you showed up at football practice. Why was that, Callie?”
Callie was confused. How could Trace possibly know so much about her activities in high school? They hadn’t even met until she showed up at the University of Texas campus. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“You haven’t answered my question. Why did you come to football practice on Thursdays?”
“Because that was the day I did the grocery shopping, and I didn’t have to be home until later.”
“Why were you there, Calllie?”
Callie stared into his eyes, afraid to admit the truth. But what difference could it possibly make now? She swallowed hard and said, “I was there to see you.”
He gave a sigh of satisfaction. “I hoped that was it. But I never knew for sure.”
Callie’s brow furrowed. “You wanted me to notice you?”
“I noticed you. Couldn’t you feel my eyes on you? Didn’t you ever sense the force of my boyish lust? I had it bad for you my senior year. I couldn’t walk past you in the hall without needing to hold my books in my lap when I saw down in the next class.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Trace chuckled. “I wish I were.”
“Then it wasn’t an accident, our meeting like that at UT?”
“That’s the miracle of it,” Trace said. “It was entirely by accident. Fate. Kisma. Karma. Whatever you want to call it.”
― Joan Johnston, The Cowboy

 “If you know anything,” he said. “If you can give us any help finding—”
“The truth is, I can help you find those mines.” Bay couldn’t believe the enormous lie that had just come out of her mouth. She took a deep breath and added, “But you have to take me with you to the Big Bend.”
“I work alone.”
“Then we’re finished here,” Bay said, turning to leave.
Owen caught her before she’d taken two steps. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”
“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the Big Bend.”
“I can’t take you with me, Dr. Creed. It’s too dangerous. If you help me out, I’ll make sure your brother gets a chance to tell his story in court.”
Bay gave an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe you.”
She was surprised at the anger that flared in his eyes before he said, “I’m not in the habit of lying.”
“I’ve never met an honest Blackthorne,” she said. “And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”
“I ought to arrest you for obstruction,” he muttered.
“Go ahead!” she challenged. “Then I can tell them how you manhandled me.” She glanced towards his tight grasp on her arm, then put her fingertips to her aching throat, and said, “I’m sure I’ll have the bruises to prove it.”
He looked down in surprise to where his fingers were clamped on her forearm, as though he’d had no notion of how tightly he was holding her, and abruptly he let her go. She rubbed her arm and said, “When do we leave?”
“You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”
“Of course I would,” she replied. “I’m incredibly fit.”
She felt her stomach flutter as his eyes raked her from legs to belly to breasts . . . and lingered there appreciatively. His heavy-lidded gaze lifted to her mouth, and she nervously slid her tongue across her lips. She felt a quiver of anticipation as his eyes locked on hers, hot and needy.
“You can’t come with me,” he said at last. “You’d be a . . . dangerous distraction.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

 “As she lifted her own backpack over the side of the black, heavy-duty dodge pickup, Owen took it out of her hands and set it beside the one-man tent and sleeping bag the FBI had provided for him.
“I could have done that,” she said.
“Sure you could. But my daddy taught me a gentleman always helps a lady.”
Bay was so startled at what he’d said, and the chagrined way he’s said it, that she laughed. “Oh, my god. Chauvinism is alive and well—”
“We call it chivalry, or Southern courtesy, ma’am,” he said. She realized he was heading around the truck to open the door for her.
She stepped in front of him and said, “It’s going to be a long trip if you refuse to let me pull my weight. I can get my own door, Mr. Blackthorne.”
For a minute, she thought he was going to make an issue of it. Then he touched the brim of his hat, shot her a rakish grin that turned her insides to mush, and said, “Whatever you say, Mizz Creed.”
She was so flustered, she took a half step backward, slid into the seat when he opened the door for her after all, and said, “My friends call me Bay.”
Bay flushed as she realized what she’d said. As he came around the hood and got in, she said, “That is—I mean—you know what I mean!”
He belted himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine, before he turned to her and said, “My friends call me Owe. You can call me Owen.”
She stared at him disbelief. “Oh. You. Blackthorne, you.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

“I don’t trust you to go alone,” Charlotte said. “You’ll end up getting killed in a duel with Braddock.”
“If I do, it won’t happen before dawn at the least. There are still several hours during which you will have to obey me.”
“What happens to me if you’re killed?” Charlotte asked. “Will I be free to do as I wish then?”
“Remove that bloodthirsty look from your eye, baggage. If anything happens to me, you will be passed along with the furniture and the paintings to the next Earl of Denbigh, whoever he may be.”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “I think I would prefer to deal with you. At least we have reached a sort of understanding. So, if you please, I would rather you did not let the duke kill you.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” he assured her.”
― Joan Johnston, Captive

 “One little temper tantrum isn’t going to scare me away.”
“I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”
“I work every day with cantankerous beasts who growl and bite, when I’m only trying to help. I think I can handle you.”
“I’d like to see you handle me,” he said, eyeing her up and down.
She ignored the double entendre, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t sizing her up as an adversary on the tae kwan do mat. She put a hand to her stomach, which was doing a strange flip-flop. “Don’t think I couldn’t take you down,” she said seriously. “I’ve trained in the martial arts.”
He smirked. “That I’ve got to see.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

“Owen took a step forward, blocking Blackjack’s path. For the first time, Trace noticed Owen was wearing his badge above his heart. “You don’t want to make yourself any more of a suspect than you already are,” Owen said.
Blackjack made a dismissive sound. “Don’t pull that Texas Ranger bullshit with me, son. I diapered your bottom.”
“You’ve never touched a diaper in your life,” Owen countered.”
― Joan Johnston, The Cowboy

“My brother is somewhere in here.” She paused and added in an almost inaudible voice, “I think.”
Owen bit back an oath. He’d been raised not to swear around ladies, but as she’d pointed out, it was going to be a long trip if he had to mind his manners when the goddamned woman was going to be so provoking. “I knew this was going to be a total waste of time.”
― Joan Johnston, The Texan

10 Famous Quotes by Author Joan Johnston

10 quotes by Joan Johnston there you go! It’s never an easy task picking the best quotations from great writers, so please if you disagree or have more to add, please comment and share your opinions. My 10 greatest Joan Johnston quotes will likely be different from yours; however, that’s the best thing about them, each quote can mean something different to each person. So don’t wait, comment and shares your best Joan Johnston Quote. 

One Final Bonus – Joan Johnston Quote 

“I’m wondering what it would be like to be kissed by you.”
“Let’s not go there,” he said. “I don’t want to mess up our friendship.”
“It wouldn’t,” she said, grinning suddenly. “I’d like to know how it feels. I mean, as an experiment.”
“Put the wrong chemicals together, and they explode.”
She frowned. “Are you saying you don’t think I’d like it? Or that I would?”
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to kiss you.”
She looked up at him shyly, from beneath lowered lashes, and gave him a cajoling smile. “Just one teeny, weeny little kiss?”
He laughed at her antics. Inside his stomach, about a million butterflies had taken flight. “Don’t play games with me, Summer.” He said it with a smile, but it was a warning.
One she ignored.
She crooked her finger and wiggled it, gesturing him toward her. “Come here, and give me a little kiss.”
She was doing something sultry with her eyes, something she’d never done before. She’d turned on some kind of feminine heat, because he was burning up just looking at her. “Stop this,” he said in a guttural voice.
She canted her hip and put her hand on it, drawing his attention in that direction, then slid her tongue along the seam of her lips to wet them. “I’m ready, bad boy. What are you waiting for?”
His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. He was hot and hard and ready. And if he touched her, he was going to ruin everything.
“I’m not going to kiss you, Summer.”
He saw the disappointment flash in her eyes. Saw the determination replace it.
“All right. I’ll kiss you.”
He could have stopped her. He was the one with the powerful arms and the broad chest and the long, strong legs.
But he wanted that kiss.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t expect fireworks. I’m only doing this because we’re friends.” And if she believed that, he had some desert brushland he could sell her.
Suddenly, she seemed uncertain, and he felt a pang of loss. Silly to feel it so deeply, when kissing Summer had been the last thing he’d allowed himself to dream about. Although, to be honest, he hadn’t always been able to control his dreams. She’d been there, all right. Hot and wet and willing.
He made himself smile at her. “Don’t worry, kid. It was a bad idea. To be honest, I value our friendship too much—”
She threw herself into his arms, clutching him around the neck, so he had to catch her or get bowled over. “Whoa, there,” he said, laughing and hugging her with her feet dangling in the air. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve changed your mind about wanting that kiss. I’m just glad to be your friend.”
She leaned back in his embrace, searching his eyes, looking for something. Before he could do or say anything to stop her, she pressed her lips softly against his.
His whole body went rigid.
“Billy,” she murmured against his lips. “Please. Kiss me back.”
“Summer, I don’t—”
She pressed her lips against his again, damp and pliant and inviting. He softened his mouth against hers, felt the plumpness of her upper lip, felt the open, inviting seam, and let his tongue slide along the length of it.
“Oh.” She broke the kiss and stared at him with dazed eyes. Eyes that sought reason where there was none.
He wanted to rage at her for ruining everything. They could never be friends now. Not now that he’d tasted her, not now that she’d felt his want and his need. He lowered his head to take her mouth, to take what he’d always wanted.”

― Joan Johnston, The Texan

Dave Peterson

Dave Peterson Passion for adventure and sharing his life long journey with as many others as possible. "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." HENRY S. HASKINS

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