Love on the Mend Quotes

“Hang in there, Mollie.” Jacob’s voice rumbled just beneath her ear. She tried to pick out his words as the darkness rose to claim her. “I’ll patch you up, I swear it. Don’t leave me, sweetheart. Please. I love you too much to lose you.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“Something nudged Mollie’s shoulder. With the nudge came a reminder of the pain. She tried to snuggle back down into the darkness that had cushioned her from the agony in her head, but then someone called her name. Someone she knew. Jacob. He sounded far away. Surely he wouldn’t mind if she just slipped back into the warm darkness for a little while. “Mollie Tate. Don’t you dare leave me.” Goodness, he sounded demanding. And worried. And perhaps just a tad panicked. Mollie frowned at that. Or she would have if she could’ve remembered how. The darkness made everything fuzzy. But one thing she did remember—Jacob never panicked. She’d never met a man so calm in a crisis. So what had him rattled? Hands roamed over her arms and legs. They prodded and probed and seemed to jab every sore spot on her body. She wanted to scream at them to stop, but she only managed a pitiful little whining sound that barely even vibrated her throat. The hands must have heard it, though, for they stilled. “Mollie? Can you hear me?” Jacob. Heavens, how she loved that man. She’d gladly be his nurse for the rest of her days just to be close to him.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“Jacob remained by Mollie’s side throughout the night, clinging to her hand as well as to her vow. She wasn’t going to leave him. She’d given her word, and Mollie never broke a promise. He prayed. He tended the cuts she’d suffered from the blackberry brambles when she’d fallen. The vines had grown entangled within a cedar’s branches, and as best he could tell, she’d climbed the tree in order to reach the ripe berries that other pickers had left behind. Unfortunately, the limb she’d shimmied out on had been weak and had broken beneath her weight. “You know, this tree climbing and dropping through busted church floors is going to have to stop after we’re married. My heart won’t be able to take the stress.” He smiled and ran the back of his finger down the smooth line of her cheek. “Not that I expect any dictate I give you to have much effect. My only hope is that you’ll grow to care enough about me that you’ll take pity on me and cease taking unnecessary risks with your life.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“It’s been hours, son.” Footsteps echoed in the room. “Let me sit with her for a few minutes while you go—” “I’m staying. I have to. I love her, Uncle Curtis.” There were the words again. Only this time instead sounding like a promise, they sounded like torture. “I want to have a family. With Mollie.” He paused. “With you, too.” “Jacob.” It seemed to be all Uncle Curtis could say. Mollie couldn’t blame him. It was the only word she wanted to say, too. “Jacob.” He was at her side in a flash, taking her hand in his. “Mollie?” She focused all her energy on lifting her eyelids. They cracked just a bit, enough to let a sliver of lamplight in. Slowly, her lashes parted and she saw him. Red-rimmed eyes, stubbly jaw, hair a wreck. Her man. “I won’t leave you.” She gave him her promise before exhaustion once again overtook her and dragged her back into unconsciousness.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“He needed to get Mollie out from under that woman’s roof as soon as possible. The most desirable option being moving her into the clinic as his wife. But she deserved a proper courtship, not some rushed affair that would lend itself to whispers behind closed doors. Of course, if he were openly courting her, the hours they spent together in the clinic or on house calls could raise eyebrows as well. Jacob smacked the trunk of one of the young pines that stood outside his clinic with enough force to shake needles loose. Shoot, maybe he should just abduct her and elope. A smile finally curved his lips as he imagined Mollie’s response to that idea. She’d probably dose his coffee with castor oil for a week if he suggested such a thing.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“Mollie blushed as Mr. Walters released his hold on Jacob in order to embrace her in an enthusiastic hug. Jacob frowned at the sight of another man’s arms around his woman, but it was only right that she receive credit for the part she’d played. His woman. Had he really just labeled her as such? It seemed odd yet so very, very right. What also felt very, very right was getting Trent Walters’s arms away from Mollie.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“Dr. Jacob was tearing a piece of white cotton into strips. White cotton that must have belonged to his shirt at one time, for the man was bare to the waist. Well, not completely bare. He’d put his black vest back on. Not that it covered much. She still saw every play of his muscles as he tore the cotton. Very fine muscles, she couldn’t help but notice.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend

“He held Galen to a walk because Mollie felt too good leaning against his chest. He wrapped one arm about her waist and drew her even closer. She tipped her face back to look at him. “We made a good team tonight, didn’t we?” He thought they’d make a good team every night. If she would consent to a different type of partnership. He squeezed her a little tighter. “We made an excellent team. Thank you for coming.” “I’ll come whenever you need me, Jacob.” Her face looked so earnest. It seemed only natural to bend down and touch his lips to hers. “I fear I’ll always need you, Mollie.” He whispered the words in her ear, low and gruff. Then he kissed her again. Urgent. Breathless. A kiss that conveyed all his words could not. Her lips responded, softening under his onslaught. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape as she turned to accept his kiss more fully. A warmth that defied the predawn coolness suffused him. This was his woman. Galen meandered to a halt at his master’s lack of attention, then shifted restlessly. The sideways motion brought Jacob back to his senses. He eased his lips away from Mollie’s and stroked his hand over her hair. Her dazed expression made him smile. One of these days, he really ought to try kissing her when their feet were on the ground.”
― Karen Witemeyer, Love on the Mend