Jameson Hawthorne Quotes

Heads, I kiss you. Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something.

Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius." She is one of us. We protect her.

I came to see you,” Jameson told me. “Every day. The least you could have done was wake up while I was here, tragically backlit, unspeakably handsome, and waiting.

Picture yourself standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind is whipping your hair. The sun is setting. You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn. Who's there? I remembered a voice. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is hungry. He's been looking for something. He's been looking for it since the day he was born.

Jameson had a habit of tossing out words that should matter like they didn't at all.

I stepped into the secret passageway to find Jameson waiting for me. “Fancy meeting you here, Heiress.” “You,” I told him, “are the most annoying person on the face of the planet.

The answer to your first riddle,” I told him. “If yes is no and once is never, then the number of sides a triangle has… is… two.” I drew out my reply, not bothering to explain how I’d arrived at my answer

Sometimes,” Jameson Hawthorne said, sounding strangely contemplative, “things that appear very different on the surface are actually exactly the same at their core.

And that was why I was in these tunnels with Jameson Hawthorne. That was why he’d started looking at me like I was a mystery again, a puzzle that he, and only he, could solve.

Jameson smiled. It was his slow, dangerous, heady smile, designed to elicit a reaction. I didn’t give him one.

Jameson was close to me now. Too close. Every one of the Hawthorne boys was magnetic. Larger than life. They had an effect on people—and Jameson was very good at using that to get what he wanted. He wants something from me now.

But this... us..." He swallowed. "It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jameson looks at you.

Allow me to get this straight,” Zara said, staring past Jameson and straight to me. “You, to whom my father left virtually everything, want the one and only thing he left to me?

I'll have you know that most celebrity sites rank me as the second-hottest Hawthorne." -Jameson

If you want, Mystery Girl, you can start calling me Mystery Boy." -Jameson

Screw Ian. Jameson didn't need Ian. It was--now and always--Jameson and Avery against the world

Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind.

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.

Est unis ex nobis. Nos defendat eius Grayson Hawthorne Scio Jameson Hawthorne

Once you see that web of possibilities laid out in front of you, unencumbered by fear of pain or failure, by thoughts telling you what can and cannot, should and should not be done… What will you do with what you see?

Well then, Heiress.” Jameson stepped forward. Standing directly to my side, he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “Game on.

Jameson, Better the devil you know than the one you don’t—or is it? Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. All that glitters is not gold. Nothing is certain but death and taxes. There but for the grace of God go I. Don’t judge. —Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne

You made me hungry," I told Jameson. "for everything. I want the world now." I held his gaze in a way that dared him to look away. "And I want it with you.

I moved on from Emily,” he said. “Gray didn’t. And I know in my soul that if he had, he could have loved you. He would have.

So,” Libby said sagely, “chess.” “Chess,” I repeated. “The move—it’s called the Queen’s Gambit. Whoever’s playing white puts that second pawn in a position to be sacrificed, which is why it’s considered a gambit.” “Why would you sacrifice a piece?” Libby asked. I thought about billionaire Tobias Hawthorne, about Toby, about Jameson, Grayson, Xander, and Nash. “To take control of the board,” I said.

Where angels fear to tread, have your fun instead.” Rohan’s voice was almost musical, but there was something dark in his tone. A promise. One that Jameson suspected that men in Rohan’s position had been making for centuries. “But be warned: The house always wins.

Toby wasn’t an idiot.” Jameson’s expression was sharp. “Unless this was some kind of suicide pact, he would have had a contingency plan to make sure that he and his friends weren’t caught in the flames.

You don’t have to kiss me. You done even have to like me, Heiress, but please don’t make me do this alone. - Jameson

Heiress you wound me" Jameson looked better smirking than anyone had a right to look.

Two,” I said now, just as I had then, but this time I couldn’t help wondering if Jameson was talking about a different kind of triangle—about him and Grayson and me.

Jameson thought about what he’d written down, and it took everything in him not to look at Avery, because suddenly, her presence here didn’t seem like a boon. It was a risk. After all, Jameson could hear the Proprietor saying, these things are always more interesting when at least a few players have “skin in the game.” Anyone reading those words would be bad. Avery reading them would open Pandora’s box.

Stop looking at me like that," I told him sternly. "Like what?" he countered. I folded my arms and stared him down. "You turn on the charm when you want something." "Heiress, you wound me." Jameson looked better smirking than anyone had a right to look.

But after reading even just a couple of my mom’s postcards? It was getting harder to ignore Grayson’s presence beside me, harder not to think about Jameson. My eyes stung, even though there was zero reason for me to be crying.

Which one of those explains your face?" Nash asked Jameson. The bruises and swelling clearly suggested that their brother had been in one hell of a fight. "Some faces need no explanation," Jameson replied. He gestured to his own. "Work of art.

Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind. “Not even a little,” I replied, but I took the helmet from his outstretched hand, and when he climbed onto the motorcycle, I climbed on behind him.

I knew better than to remind Grayson Hawthorne of a broken promise. I didn't have the right to ask this of him, to ask anything of him. I was with Jameson. I loved Jameson. And, Grayson's entire life, everyone had expected too damn much.

That's what I love about you, Heiress." Jameson had a habit of tossing out words that should matter like they didn't at all.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne loved me. He loved me, and I loved him.

I would die to protect you. I would make you hate me to keep you save because damn it, Avery - some things are too precious to gamble

If yes is no and once is never then how many sides does a triangle have? - Jameson Hawthorne

Your letter is written in proverbs,” I said, starting with the obvious. “All that glitters is not gold. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. He’s saying that money and power are dangerous. And the first line—better the devil you know than the one you don’t—or is it?—that’s obvious, right?” His family was the devil that Tobias Hawthorne had known—and I was the devil he hadn’t. But if that’s true—why me? If I was a stranger, how had he chosen me? A dart on a map? Max’s imaginary computer algorithm? And if I was a stranger—why was he sorry? “Keep going,” Jameson prompted. I focused. “Nothing is certain but death and taxes. It sounds to me like he knew he was going to die.” “We didn’t even know he was sick,” Jameson murmured. That hit close to home.

That won't be enough." How many times had Jameson heard some iteration of those words? How many times had he said them to himself? When you have certain weaknesses, you have to want it more.

Heiress, before we start spilling secrets, I'm going to need you to promise me a plane.' 'A plane?' I gave him an incredulous look. 'You have several.' Jameson smiled. 'I want to borrow one.' 'Why do you need a plane?' Grayson asked suspiciously. Jameson waved away the question. 'Fine,' I told him. 'You can take one of my planes.' Yet another sentence I never thought I'd say.

Jameson leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, then let the front legs drop down and leaned to whisper directly into my ear. “Toby Hawthorne is your father.

But Jameson excelled at pissing people off, and he'd always been taught to play to his strengths.

Jameson hated to see any similarity between himself and his spoiled, sometimes homicidal mother,

If yes is no, and once is never, how many sides does a triangle have?" - Jameson Hawrthorne

Why would you sacrifice a piece?” Libby asked. I thought about billionaire Tobias Hawthorne, about Toby, about Jameson, Grayson, Xander, and Nash. “To take control of the board,” I said.

Tobias Hawthorne had given himself a middle name at the same time he’d disinherited his family. Tattersall. Tatters, all. Given everything that Jameson and Xander had told me about their grandfather, that seemed like a message. Leaving the money to me—and before me, to charity—wasn’t the point. Disinheriting his family was. “What the hell happened twenty years ago in August?” I asked. Alisa seemed to be weighing her response. My eyes narrowed, and I wondered if any part of her was still loyal to Nash. To his family. “Mr. Hawthorne and his wife lost their son that summer. Toby. He was nineteen, the youngest of their children.

Do you know why Jameson was daddys favorite when by all rights it should have been perfect, dutiful Grayson?" "It wasn't because my Jamie is brilliant or beautiful or charismatic. It was because Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is hungry.

Did you find what I found?” he asked me. “Two of the four charities have connections to victims of the fire. I’m still piecing together the rest, but I have a theory.” “Does your theory involve Toby having been a patient at Camden House and potentially losing his memory after the fire?” I asked. Jameson leaned toward me. “We’re brilliant.

My mother’s postcards,” I whispered, and took off running. Oren bolted after me, and the others weren’t far behind. I made it to my room in a matter of seconds, to my closet in less than that, and soon I was holding the postcards in my hand. There was nothing written on the back, no postage. I’d never questioned where my mother had gotten them. Or from whom. I looked up at Jameson and Grayson, Xander and Nash. “You Hawthornes,” I whispered hoarsely, “and your invisible ink.

But somewhere around a hundred and fifty miles an hour, I stopped thinking about should. Adrenaline. Euphoria. Fear. There wasn’t room in my head for anything else. Speed was the only thing that mattered. That, and the boy beside me. I didn’t want him to slow down. I didn’t want the car to stop. For the first time since the reading of the will, I felt free. No questions. No suspicions. No one staring or not staring. Nothing except this moment, right here, right now. Nothing except Jameson Winchester Hawthorne and me.

Grayson’s expression became, in a word, murderous. “He touches her when she doesn’t want to be touched. I saw the father do the same thing to Acacia—a hand on her shoulder, inching toward her neck.” There were slabs of granite softer than Grayson’s jaw at that moment. “The son is whiny,” he told them. “The father is dangerous.” “So we take him out.” Nash took off his second-favorite cowboy hat. Jameson smiled. Kent Trowbridge didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. No one stood a chance against any two of the Hawthorne brothers, let alone all four. “What do we have to work with, Gray?

I don't ever want for you-for us, for this-to become a game. - Jameson Hawthorne

Jameson shrugged. “What can I say? I really am just that good.

Let me do it," Jameson said. "I can't protect you from everything, Heiress, but I can protect you from this." Jameson wasn't the Hawthorne I usually associated with protection.

Do you trust me, Heiress?" Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind. "Not even a little," I replied, but I took the helmet from his outstretched hand, and when he climbed onto the motorcycle, I climbed on behind him.

Light shall reveal all I writ upon the… “Wall,” Jameson whispered, like he’d lifted the word directly from my thoughts. He was breathing hard—hard enough to make me think that his heart was pounding even faster than mine. “Which wall?” I asked, stepping up beside him. Slowly, Jameson turned, three hundred and sixty degrees. He didn’t answer my question, so I threw out another one. “Invisible ink?” “Now you’re thinking like a Hawthorne.” Jameson closed his eyes. I could practically feel him vibrating with energy. My entire body was doing the same. “Light shall reveal all.” Jameson’s eyelids flew open, and he turned again, until we were facing each other. “Heiress, we’re going to need a black light.

Once you see that web of possibilities laid out in front of you, unencumbered by fear of pain or failure, by thoughts telling you what can and cannot, should and should not be done… What will you do with what you see?

Identify your assumptions. Question them. Negate them.”- Grayson Davenport Hawthorne ' “I need this,” Xander said into the microphone. “You need this. We all need this. Nash, I’ve cued up the Taylor Swift for you. Jameson, get ready to break out those dance moves because this stage is calling your name, and we all know that your hips are utterly incapable of falsehood. And as for Grayson…” Xander paused. “Where is Gray?” “Grayson Hawthorne skipping out on karaoke?” Libby said. “I’m shocked, I tell you. Shocked. ” “Gray has a voice so deep and smooth that you will shed literal tears as he sings something so old school that you will come to believe he spent the 1950s wearing the most dapper of suits and hanging out with his bestie, Frank Sinatra,” Xander swore. - The final Gambit by Jennifer lyn barnes

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne wasn’t giving that up. He wasn’t giving up, period.

you need someone. I understand that, Avery. And you don’t want that someone to be a Hawthorne. Whatever’s going on with you and Jameson—” “There’s nothing going on between us.” That got me an Alisa Look and then some. “First the roof, then the hotel.” She paused. “Call your friend Max. Let her be your person. Not one of them.

Jameson reached out and took her hand. “If I told you that someone wanted revenge against the Hawthorne family—” Nan patted the side of his face. “I’d tell that person to get in line.

Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius. As I’d suspected, it was Latin. An online translator told me that it meant It is one of us. We protect it. Jameson’s response, Scio, meant I know. It only took me one more search to realize that the same translation would hold if it was replaced with she. She is one of us. We protect her.

The old man raised us. He made us in his own image.” Jameson swung, and the ball went soaring. “Xan has his mind. Grayson got the gravitas. Nash has a savior complex. And I…” Another ball. Another shot. “I don’t know when to give up.

Reluctantly, I pulled back. “A hot-air balloon?” I asked Jameson dryly. “Really?” “I should warn you, Heiress…” Jameson swung himself up onto the edge of the basket, landing in a crouch. “I am dangerously good at birthdays.” Jameson Hawthorne was dangerously good at a lot of things.

Reluctantly, I pulled back. “A hot-air balloon?” I asked Jameson dryly. “Really?” “I should warn you, Heiress…” Jameson swung himself up onto the edge of the basket, landing in a crouch. “I am dangerously good at birthdays.” Jameson Hawthorne was dangerously good at a lot of things.

You've got to be kidding me," I told Jameson. "what?" Libby asked. Jameson smirked. "Hawthornes never kid about karaoke.

You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Avery asked. Jameson opened his eyes, stared into hers, then lit the fuse. “No, Heiress. We are.

The press had been cleared out, but Oren and his men were still there waiting—and so was Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Grayson saw his brother standing there, and he answered on behalf of both of them. “We will.

I didn’t want him to slow down. I didn’t want the car to stop. For the first time since the reading of the will, I felt free. No questions. No suspicions. No one staring or not staring. Nothing except this moment, right here, right now. Nothing except Jameson Winchester Hawthorne and me.