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.

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.

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!

I'm a figment of your imagination. You're only imagining that I'm sitting here eating with you. Because I'm just so freaking awesome that people daydream about being seen with me.

It'll be okay, I promise. No matter what I see or feel. You'll still be Logan and I'll still be your Gypsy girl.

You're mine," "Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.

I know that maniacal twinkle in your eye. You're up to something Gwen," he said.