Quotes from Jennifer Lynn Barnes

There is no such thing as fighting dirty, I told Nash, if you win.

The problem was that there was no treatment. No cure. There was nothing that...any medical professional could do. If I'd been fully human, I would have been a dead girl walking....

Life in the fast lane," Michael's reply. "You have to adjust for inflation.

When you were a kid," he continued, his voice even and low, "Your mother taught you to observe people. She also taught you not to get attached.

Studying mutilated bodies was routine. Talking to me—apparently, that was hard.

Lips twitching spasmodically, Devon put me back in the hold, and I did the only thing I could think of to alleviate his guilt and put him in fighting mode for real. "Armani is for mama's boys, and a movie doesn't count as a real film if nothing gets blown up." You're going down, Bronwyn. Them's fighting words.

Skylar todl you to come here?" I asked dumbly. "No," Bethany said. "Skylar told me not to come here. Same dif.

Secrets, lies, All I despise. The tree is poison, Don't you see? It poisoned S and Z and me. The evidence I stole Is in the darkest hole. Light shall reveal all I writ upon the…

At that point in time, there were three things in life that I knew for certain: (1) I was a girl who'd never met a site she couldn't hack or a code she couldn't break, (2) I had a roundhouse that could put a grown man in the hospital, and (3) I would without question chop off my own hands before I'd come within five feet of a pom-pom

I had no weapons. No plan. Nothing but my blood and my hands. They were coming, and there were more of them than I'd realized.

Asher smiled beatifically, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for someone to ask just that question. "How would you feel about some Mentos and Diet Coke?

Tess," I said. For a moment, Emilia and I studied each other. She was tall, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes that walked the line between green and blue. She wore almost no makeup, except for a light gloss on her lips. "So you're Ivy Kendrick's sister," she said finally. "I thought you'd be taller." "I'll get right to work on that." Emilia cracked a very small smile.

You don't like me much, that's okay. I'm a hypercompetitive, bisexual perfectionist who likes to win and looks like this. I'm no stranger to being hated.

Callum's basement had always been off-limits to me, and I wasn't dumb enough to believe the restriction was in place because that was where he hid my Christmas presents.

Some people are smart. Some people are good." He opened his eyes and put a hand on each of my shoulders. "And some people are both.

Everything you said or did was a data point you put out there in the world.

Some people said that broken bones grew back stronger. On the good days, I told myself that was true, that each time the world tried to break me, I became a little less breakable.

Asher waved away my words, unconcerned. "If Emilia was predisposed to fratricide, I wouldn't have made it past kindergarten," he said. "I am, however, somewhat concerned that she might kill you.

After getting dressed at warp speed, I actually managed to drive all the way to high school before I realized I'd forgotten my morning coffee. Mystery, intrigue, and naked dreams aside, that didn't bode well for my chances at making it through the morning without killing myself. Or someone else.

You're a very pretty girl...Did you know? Once upon a time, I had a pretty, pretty boy.' She reached forward and touched my cheek with one manicured hand.

Aching for them, I wondered who had made Skye so desperate to be the center of someone's world that she couldn't even love her own children, for fear they wouldn't love her back enough.

Dearest Avery, I'm sorry. —T. T. H.

I have a better idea." Jameson lowered his lips to mine. My neck arched. More mud on my face, my clothes. "I bet," he countered, "that you can't wash all this mud off before I…" "Before you what?" I murmured. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne smiled. "Guess.

Devon put an arm around me and curled his lips into an expression I recognized as Smirk Number One: sarcastic with a touch of I-couldn't-care-less. "Why, Bryn," he said with a hint of Scarlett O-Hara in his voice, "I do believe he's given her your pen." Devon's words freed up my mouth, which—true to form—spoke without consulting my brain. "Well, get Freud on the phone. He'll have a field day with this one.