Quote

He gave me his word. That means something to a man like Donovan Caine. Yeah, it means you'll realize he's an exceptionally good liar when you're clutching your intestines and choking on your own blood on his living room floor.

Jennifer Estep

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Jennifer Estep
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Like
Blood
Liars
Donovan
Word
Floor
Caine
Living
Yeah
Clutching
Means
Gave
Intestines
Mean
Realize
Choking
Something
Room
Exceptionally
Good
Rooms
Choke
Men
Realizing
Liar

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I didn't know what would take my mind off the sexy Spartan, except for maybe a total lobotomy.
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My heart lifted, and a matching grin curved my lips. He wanted to see me again. Maybe he really did like me after all. I felt like doing a happy dance, but of course, I was way too cool for that. I'd at least wait until I got back to my hotel room, alone, where no one would see.
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No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you. Promise? I asked in a shaky voice. Logan's eyes burned with icy determination. Promise.
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I know, I know. But I can always kill him later. This way, at least we get to humiliate him first.” Finn eyed me. “Sometimes I think you’re even more devious, twisted, and vicious than I am.” I grinned. “You only wish you could be as ruthless as me.” “Absolutely.
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I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
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Finn regarded pesky little things like wedding bands, engagement rings, and jealous, hulking menfolk more as amusing challenges than immovable obstacles that could be hazardous to his health.
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I looked at Bria. “How do you put up with him?” Bria started to open her mouth, but Finn piped up instead. “She puts up with me because I happen to be rich, handsome, charming, a witty conversationalist, and exceptionally talented in bed,” he smirked. “Flexible too.” I groaned. “I did not need to hear those last two.
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Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
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Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy. Touthpick? Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.
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Can you play the piano like Beethoven? Or sing like Carly Simon? Can you take fie pages' worth of quotes and turn them into a usable story ten minutes before deadline? I don't think so, unless you have more hidden talents I don't know about. We all have our special sills. They don't make us better or worse than each other. Just different
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Have I ever told you how scary it is that you think of heels in terms of their possible shiv potential?
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Don't you agree, fuzzball?
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That was my favorite dagger. She had a favorite dagger? Seriously? And she thought that I was a freak.
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I pulled the trigger twice, cutting off his protests, and Finn joined my lover on the floor.
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The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.
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And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.
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I will destroy you. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me. I won’t sleep, I won’t eat. I won’t do anything but plot your downfall. I will mow down your men like they’re weeds. I’ll kill so many of them so viciously, so brutally, so horribly that no one will dare to work for you. And sooner or later, I’ll get you too.
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You're mine, Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.
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Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.” “Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. “Shut up, idiot.
Jennifer Estep