“No need to take it out on me that you're so wrinkled you have to screw your hat on.”

“I love you ... You're mine ... And you're not leaving me ever again... I really am so sick and tired of trying to live without you.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? You have no idea how important you are to me. I need you to be okay, Taryn. I can’t be without you, you have to be here and okay or I would be able to fucking function.”

“I think I've had a shit, Shaya." The poor woman sounded distressed and mortified. "Have I, Grace? Don't lie to me." "No, you haven't.""I have, you're lying. Is she lying, Lydia?""No," Lydia quickly said, "you haven't, I promise.”

“Here's something for you to remember; you might have been born into money, but you came out of a vagina the same as everyone else. Popping out of one that's rich doesn't make you anything but lucky, or susceptible to being stuck your own arse. Whichever.”

“Grace’s gaze skimmed over her, taking in the various marks of possession that decorated her flesh. “Well, short of having ‘Property of Trey Coleman’ tattooed on your forehead, he couldn’t have made it any clearer that he considered you his, could he?”

“If I want your opinion, I’ll kick it out of you, okay?”