Tell me what you want, sweetheart … Anything. And I’ll do it.

Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys.

Avery Morgansten? This is becoming a habit.

We also told her you weren't a serial killer," Brit interjected. Cam nodded. "That's a glowing recommendation. Hey, at least he's not a serial killer. I'm going to put that on my Facebook profile.

I'm beginning to think cookies is a code word for something else." "Maybe it is." He tugged on my bag again as he took a confident step back, forcing me down another step. "And just think about it. If cookie was a code word, whatever it symbolizes, it's been in your mouth, sweetheart.

You’re a good guy, Cam.” “No, I’m not.” He exhaled deeply and his breath was warm against my cheek. “I’m only good with you.

Thank you.” His lips curved up on one side. “For what?” “For waiting for me.