Kenau Smit

“You love it right?" Lassiter asked, holding his Bible high. "I mean, you told me to go on the internet. I did. I even printed out my diploma or whatever the hell it's called." Opening the cover of the King James version, he took out a piece of paper and waved it around. "See? Nice and legal-like" Beth leaned in "Wow". "I know right? Just like Harvard" "Impressive" "I'm totally framing that shit, wha-what.”
― J.R. Ward, The King

“What is it about me and coffee that drives you over the edge? - Kellan Kyle”
― SC Stephens

“Rhage raised his hand. "Pastor Ass-hat, I have a question." "Yes, my son, you ARE going to hell." Lassiter made the sign of the cross and then looked around.”
― J.R. Ward, The King

“Hey, and the rock star is here too! How you doing, son?”

“Hey, Mr. Rossi. Thanks for having me today. I’m doing great. How have you been?” I answered.

He lowered his gaze and stepped closer to me. “Good, good, son. I’m sure glad that everything was settled and you didn’t have anything to do with hurting our Gracie. Lea told me that you were the one to help her when that son of a bitch got his hands on her. We’re forever in your debt, Shane. I knew you couldn’t have hurt her.” He slid in front of the dining room chair at the head of the table, and sat down, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. A serious expression crossed his features, “So did anybody get the son of a bitch, yet? Or am I going to have to make some calls…” Holy shit, it’s like the Godfather.”
― Christine Zolendz, Scars and Songs