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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?
Jennifer Estep
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Jennifer Estep
Age: 25
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Around
Chest
Shrieked
Give
Chests
Whirled
Right
Attack
Folders
Giving
Behinds
Clutched
Heart
Behind
Dammit
Trying
High
Finn
Sound
Pitched
Winced
Woman
Gin
Folder
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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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Don't you agree, fuzzball?
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Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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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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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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I'm crazy about you, Spartan.
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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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Are you coming along peaceful-like, or am I going to have to hog-tie you and put you in the car?
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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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Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.
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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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What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.
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She doesn't even know how to kill things properlike? What kind of girl have you given me to, goddess? Vic protested, fixing his eye on Nike once more. Nike let out a laugh. Vic is a little bloodthirsty. You'll get used to it.
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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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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 didn't know what would take my mind off the sexy Spartan, except for maybe a total lobotomy.
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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.
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And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed.
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What are you smiling at?’ - ‘Oh, nothing much. Just my hero
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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.
Jennifer Estep