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They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.

Jennifer Estep

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Jennifer Estep
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Kill
Selecting
Sweet
Alabama
Party
Knife
Times
Knives
Home
Crash
Music
Whoever
Wanted
Radio
Many
Played

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Don't you agree, fuzzball?
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Well, what did you have for lunch?” I snapped. “Surely that’s not top secret superhero information.” “Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad,” Striker replied. “And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.” I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.
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I might be an assassin, but never let it be said I wasn't as gracious a hostess as the next gal.
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Are you OK? I asked. I think so. Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.
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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.
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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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I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.
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I'm crazy about you, Spartan.
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Easy was for people too weak to suck it up and do what needed to be done. And I wasn’t weak. Not anymore.
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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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Gin! Gin, are you here?” “Right behind you,” I said. Finn shrieked and whirled around. I winced at the high-pitched sound. “Dammit, woman.” He clutched the folder to his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
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Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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Keep the change, Gin, McCallister said in a smarmy, mocking voice. Consider it an early Christmas present. Aw, I drawled. A whopping thirteen cents. You're too kind, Jonah. Why, you'd put Ebezener Scrooge to shame with your bighearted generosity.
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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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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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There's nothing I can do that's going to drive you away, is there? I murmured. Owen flashed me a sly grin. Finally figuring that out, are you? I nodded. His grin deepened. Well, it sure took you long enough.
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Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.
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It didn't take long for the anger to put the happiness in a headlock.
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The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.
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