Focus, Amy. Just because he looked great in the saddle did not mean he wasn't an axe murderer.

You're not hurt, are you?" "Only my delicate sensibilities.

Don’t ever trust anyone who’s writing a book. They make up lies for a living.

Screw you, John." "Sorry, Sylvie. Can't—they frown on that kind of thing between step-siblings.

I glanced at Carson, who had promised things would be alright. His gaze was on the floor, and a muscle in his jaw flexed rhythmically but unhelpfully. If he was trying to send me a message, I was out of luck, because I'd never learned Morse Code for Assholes.

He rose to his feet in one fluid move, the better to look down at me. “You don’t know me, princess. Some people have reasons for doing things, and don’t just go wherever they’re told or drift whichever way they’re pushed.

"Oh My God," I blurted, grabbing onto Phin as we faced the open bedroom door. "It's the axe murderer." "I doubt he would knock," she said, but she was whispering, too, and didn't move away from me.