Men. <...> They're idiots. It's like they all take a vow of stupidity or something.

I generally find subtlety a waste of time.

Marry me, princess. I'll give you my kingdom—small potatoes that it is.

Very slowly, she peeked around the tree trunk. Saw a slim, petite figure, flanked by two very large, very dangerous-looking soldier of fortune types picking their way through the bodies and the rubble. "Amy?" Oh, God. It was Amy. "Get away from her," Jenna ordered, stepping out from behind the conifer, wielding the iron pan like a club. Both men stopped. Glanced at her. Glanced at each other over Amy's head. "What?" The biggest one grunted out a surly laugh. "Or you'll souffle us?" Okay. She was definitely going after him first.

And for a moment there, despite the bruising, despite the snarled dirty hair, despite her sunburned skin and the suffering in her eyes that she refused to let defeat her, she was one of the prettiest things he'd ever seen. ~Dallas and Amy~

Here's the deal. I get to marry you. You get to become a Garrett - although, considering what you're marrying into, I'm not certain that's much of an incentive." Dallas to Amy

White on rice. Green on grass. Sheets on a bed. Him on her.