Sorina

“Paul?” I said.
My voice shook a little. “It’s Jo.” Silence. I couldn’t tell what was happening on the other end.
Then, very quietly, “Jesus.”
“No, just Joanne, although I can see how you might make the mistake, coming back from the dead and all.”
― Rachel Caine, Heat Stroke

“Try it on."

"It's probably a little snug. Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing." He merely smiled.

"It has a slit up the thigh." His smile depened.

"Zip it up?"

Patch's eyes made a slow assessment of me, sharpening to vivid black. "I'm going to have a hard time sending you off with Scott in that dress. Just a heads-up, if you come home and the dress looks even slightly tampered with, I will track Scott down, and when I find him, it won't be pretty.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Silence

“Shane settled his flamethrower more comfortably on his shoulders. “Ladies? After you.”

“Rude,” Claire said.

“I was being polite!”

“Not when you have a flamethrower.”
― Rachel Caine, Black Dawn

“News flash, lady. There are no queens anymore,” Shane said. He loaded shells in a shotgun and snapped it shut, then searched for a place to strap it on that didn’t interfere with the flamethrower. “No queens, no kings, no emperors. Not in America. Only CEOs. Same thing, but not so many crowns.”
― Rachel Caine, Black Dawn