Your master plan has holes big enough to drive a truck through.

Yep.” Eloquence ’R’ Us. When in trouble, keep it monosyllabic—safer that way.

The kind of eyes that jumped from a woman's dreams right into her morning and made trouble in the marriage bed.

He stepped forward, took a deep breath, and doubled over in a sneezing fit. My werewolf was allergic to tortoises. Why me?

Did I hurt you in the parking lot?" "No, m'lady. I fell, so I could put a tracker on your car." Great.

It's not your job to die for your Pack! It's your job to make the other bastards die for theirs.

Rene, you want us to find you-don't-know-who and to retrieve his you-don't-know-what for you-won't-tell-me-whom?