Still, I'd do anything for him. Even smear his clotting blood inside the vehicle of his choosing.

One by one, the others all nodded their heads again, as if we were talking about having a spring picnic instead of going up against the deadliest woman in Ashland and all of her men.

I looked at Bria. “How do you put up with him?” Bria started to open her mouth, but Finn piped up instead. “She puts up with me because I happen to be rich, handsome, charming, a witty conversationalist, and exceptionally talented in bed,” he smirked. “Flexible too.” I groaned. “I did not need to hear those last two.

Can you play the piano like Beethoven? Or sing like Carly Simon? Can you take fie pages' worth of quotes and turn them into a usable story ten minutes before deadline? I don't think so, unless you have more hidden talents I don't know about. We all have our special sills. They don't make us better or worse than each other. Just different

Finn did what he always did when confronted by an angry woman—he checked out her boobs.

I’m going to untangle her deadly scheme, even if it leaves my love affair hanging by a thread.

Killing people was far easier than making polite chitchat.