Angel Morrison

“Demon?” Gwen gasped out. Her back jerked ramrod-straight, and her face leeched of
color. “Did you just say demon?”

Oh, uh…did I say that?” Strider once again glanced around the plane helplessly. “No, no.
I think I said seaman.”
― Gena Showalter, The Darkest Whisper

“To answer your question, you want me because I'm made of awesome.”
― Gena Showalter, Heart of Darkness

“...the devil on my right shoulder must have brutally strangled the angel on my left...”
― Gena Showalter, Playing with Fire

“She stood, squared her shoulders. “We’ll do it. Together.” And then she did something that shocked them both. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a swift kiss on his lips. “Thank you for returning to help me.”

When she tried to move away, he latched onto her forearms and held her in place. His eyes were gleaming. "Next time you decide to do that…"

What?" she said, stiffening. "Give you a little warning?"

No." He grinned. "Linger.”
― Gena Showalter