Jennifer Lynn Barnes Quotes

Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.

Why do I have to tell a story?” I asked. “Because if you don’t tell the story, someone else will tell it for you.

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

We aren’t normal. This place isn’t normal, and you’re not a player, kid. You’re the glass ballerina—or the knife.

Sometimes things that appear very different on the surface are actually exactly the same at their core.

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

There are bad people in the world: Murderers and psychopaths and telemarketers who won't take no for an answer.

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

He left you the fortune, Avery, and all he left us is you.

Traps upon traps. And riddles upon riddles.

You don't have to kiss me. You don't even have to like me, Heiress, but please don't make me do this alone.

As awful as it sounds, money is power, and power is magnetic.

Nothing is certain but death and taxes.

Better the devil you do know than the devil you don't

Bryn, when you were six years old, you tried to bungee jump off a jungle gym by connecting the straps of your overalls to the bars with your shoelaces. Caution has never been your strong suit.

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

why kill two birds with one stone when you can kill twelve

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.

I was outnumbered, unarmed, weak, and screwed. In that order.

The trick to being abandoned was to never let yourself long for anyone who left.

The only person I trust with all that I am and all that could be, Heiress, is you.

Sloane slipped an arm around my waist. "There are fourteen varieties of hugs," she said. "This is one of them.

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.

It would be shame," Jameson commented, "if we were related.

Sometimes all a girl really needed was a very bad idea.

Getting involved with Jameson would just be throwing gasoline on the fire." "And what a lovely fire it would be,

You feel stupid. Doesn't mean you are.

I don't do vulnerable," Thea retorted. "It clashes with my bitch aesthetic.

I will always protect you" he told me, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed. "You deserve to feel safe in your own home. And I'll help you with the foundation. I'll teach you what you need to know to take this life like you were born to it. But this...us..." He swallowed. "It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jamerson looks at you.

Grayson told me. “I wanted her to be you.” “Don’t say that,” I whispered. He looked at me one last time. “There are so many things that I will never say.

If there's one thing the Hawthorne family isn't, it's fine. They were a twisted, broken mess before you got here, and they'll be a twisted, broken mess once you're gone.

I'm not Team Gale or Team Peeta. I'm Team Katniss...the core story in the Hunger Games trilogy has less to do with who Katniss ends up with and more to do with who she is - because sometimes, in books and in life, it's not about the romance. Sometimes, it's about the girl.

Lake, could you please stop sweet-talking the weapons? It's kind of freaking me out.

You have no right to tell me-" "You do not want to finish that sentence, missy. You want to sit down, close your mouth, and eat." "How am I supposed to eat with my mouth closed?

It's not the bad memories that tear a person apart. It's the good ones.

The more complicated a person’s strategy seemed, the less likely an opponent was to look for simple answers. If you could keep someone looking at your knight, you could take them with a pawn. Look past the details. Past the complications.

Right." Thea dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "No feminism at the dinner table.

Sometimes you gotta excise a wound before it can heal.

You think I didn’t fight the same fight? I halfway convinced myself that as long as Avery was just a riddle or a puzzle, as long as I was just playing, I’d be fine. Well, joke’s on me, because somewhere along the way, I stopped playing.

I am a human Rube Goldberg machine," he said. "I do simple things in complicated ways

Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away. “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.

There wasn't an in-between for me. I lived at extremes. And maybe I'd die at them too.

The world is the board, Heiress. We just have to keep rolling the dice.

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

Grayson Hawthorne was arrogant enough to consider himself bulletproof—and honorable enough to see a promise through to its end.

Maybe, to do what you and I do, we have to have a little bit of the monster in us.

Everything's a game. Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in life is if we play to win.

Too young to party, just odd enough to participate in federal investigations of serial murder. Story of my life.

Thea isn't a girl. She's a whirlwind wrapped in a hurricane wrapped in steel.

Good boy, Devon," I taunted. "You got me home before dark. If you can sit, shake and roll over, too, I'm sure Callum will give you a doggie treat.

Don't be sorry, Ms. Grambs. Be worthy of it.

When the odds are bad, you change the rules.

I don’t believe in destiny or fate—I believe in choice. Love wasn’t just a choice—it was dozens, hundreds, thousands of choices. Every day was a choice.

Little Sisters' Survival Guide, rule number thirty-seven," Skylar said. "Scream before they hit you.

This was the Grayson I’d met weeks ago: dripping power and well aware that he could come out on top in any battle. He didn’t make threats, because he didn’t have to.

Grayson was Not Pleased - and no one did Not Pleased like Grayson Hawthorne.

I'm not the glass ballerina," I said firmly. "I'm not going to shatter.

Home isn't a place. Home is the people who love you. Forever and ever, no matter what.

Is it smash the patriarchy? I hope it’s smash the patriarchy.

I'm a hypercompetitive, bisexual perfectionist who likes to win and looks like this. I'm no stranger to being hated

Sometimes you have an idea of a person — about who they are, about what you'd be like together. But sometimes that's all that it is: an idea. And for so long, I have been afraid that I loved the idea of Emily more than I will ever be capable of loving anyone real.” He looked at me like the act of doing so was painful and sweet. “It was never just the idea of you, Avery.

Lake breathed out a happy sigh as she approached the row filled with guns. "Matilda was my first, but ladies, you know how to make a girl want to stray.

Bethany blinked. "Did you just hit me?" she asked, disbelief coloring her every feature. Skylar raised both hands, palms outward. "I come in peace!" "You do not come in peace. You hit me." "I hit in peace!

Show of hands," Devon said, breaking the silence. "Who thinks we're screwed?

That's the thing, Mystery Girl. I don't think I'm turning anything into a riddle. I don't think I have to. You are a riddle, a puzzle, a game - my grandfather's last.

Don’t you ever apologize for being what you are.

Pretending something doesn't matter doesn't make it matter less.

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

Hit me with all those thinky thoughts,

Nash Hawthorne would probably tip his cowboy hat to Death herself.

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.

Katie nosed at the carpet and then gave it a good chew. When it proved recalcitrant enough that she couldn't pull it up, she growled. "Who's a fierce little girl?" I asked her. "Who's going to kick butt and take names and help her big sister get into all kinds of trouble someday?" Devon snorted. "Sometimes, I think the term bad influence was invented specifically with you in mind.

Your silence on the issue of people trying to kill you is deeply disturbing.

None of us had normal childhoods," Sloane said quietly. "If we had, we wouldn't be Naturals.

Casey doesn't trust him." "Casey doesn't trust anyone," I replied. "He's paranoid like that. I mean, come on, he's a werewolf who installed a nanny cam in his kids' room." I pointed my spoon at Ali for emphasis. "A nanny cam.

Nothing hurts you unless you let it.

Like, even in fiction, friends to lovers? Never my thing. I'm more star-crossed tragedy, supernatural soul mates, enemies to lovers. Epic, you know?

I'm not telling you what to do, I'm just telling you what you're going to do. There's a difference.

Giving money to individuals does little.” “It does a lot,” I said quietly, “for those people.

...but if there is one universal truth in the human experience, it is that a finely honed scone-eating palate does not just develop overnight.

Home isn't a place, Cassie.' The memory crept up on me. 'Home is the people who love you most, the people who will always love you, forever and ever, no matter what.

I'm Chase." he said. "Kind of an ironic name for a werewolf." The observation slipped easily off my tongue. The boy didn't blink. In fact, I was beginning to doubt that he'd blink once since I'd come into the room. "Werewolves do a lot of chasing." I explained. "And your name is Chase. Hee.

I have a passing fondness for explosions." That was concerning on so many levels.

I turned my attention back to Kaitlin, who now appeared to be very conscientiously stalking my shoelace.

Sterling turned to Michael. I expected her to ask him something, but instead she just held out her hand. "Keys." "Spatula," Michael replied. She narrowed her eyes at him. "We aren't just saying random nouns?" he asked archly.

Not going to walk me to the door?" I asked, pretending to be shocked at his lack of gallantry. "Of course I am. many would think that a bonny lass such as yerself wouldst be able to stay out of trouble for a distance of fifteen feet, but I know better." "Did you just use the words yerself and wouldst in the same sentence? You can't be a pirate and a courtier at the same time, Dev. It just isn't done.

Sometimes, there aren't any good choices. Sometimes, making the right one is hard... It's funny, but when you think about it, we're all broken. That's what life does. It knocks you down and breaks you and you either get back up again, or you don't. You either do things on your terms, or you don't. You let the bad things win, or you don't." "You either let it break you, or you don't.

You're my escort?" Devon shrugged. "The Big Guy tells you to do something, you do it, even if it means babysitting a bratty little human girl who calls playing with glue an art." I reached over and smacked him.

I am an expert at not wanting to want things.” I held my sword up for a moment longer, then lowered it, the way he’d lowered his. “But I’m starting to realize that the person I need to be, the person I’m becoming—she’s not that girl anymore.

It’s not just clothing. It’s a message. You’re not deciding what to wear. You’re deciding what story you want your image to tell. Are you the ingenue, young and sweet? Do you dress to this world of wealth and wonders like you were born to it, or do you want to walk the line: the same but different, young but full of steel?

We need to talk," Dean said. "Whatever you have to say," Michael drawled, "You can say in front of me." I gave Michael a look. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me, unless Cassie wishes to speak to you privately, in which case I completely respect her right to do so," Michael corrected himself.

He was arrogant and awful and had spent the first week of our acquaintance dead set on making my life hell. He was still half in love with Emily Laughlin. But from the first moment I'd seen him, looking away had been nearly impossible. And at the end of the day, he'd chosen me. Over family. Over his mother.

There's an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I've been thinking about a lot while writing this essay. In it, Buffy sacrifices her own life to save her sister, and right before she does, she tells her sister that the hardest thing to do in the world is to live - ironic words coming from someone about to kill herself for the greater good. As I'm writing this, I just keep thinking that Katniss never gets to sacrifice herself. She doesn't get the heroic death. She survives - and that leaves her doing the hardest thing in the world: living in it once so many of the ones she loves are gone.

Katniss isn't the kind of hero we're used to seeing in fiction. She reacts more than she acts, she doesn't want to be a leader, and by the end of Mockingjay, she hasn't come into her own or risen like a phoenix from the ashes for some triumphant moment that gives us a sense of satisfaction with how far our protagonist has come. She's not a Buffy. She's not a Bella. She limps across the finish line when we're used to seeing heroes racing; she eases into a quiet, steady love instead of falling fast and hard.

Bryn?" Chase's voice was a whisper in my mind, and the sensation sent a single chill up my spine. "Yes?" "You asked me what I liked, before." He paused, and all the silence tickled my mind, the chill in my spine climbing its way to the hairs on the back of my neck. "Before, I loved cars, Yeats, having a bedroom that locked from the inside, and you.

But sometimes a person’s brain starts cycling. No matter what you do, the same thoughts just keep repeating, over and over. You get stuck in a loop, and when you’re inside that loop, you can’t see past it. You’ll keep coming up with the same possibilities, to no end, because the answers you need—they’re outside the loop. Distractions aren’t just distractions. Sometimes they can break you out of the loop.

....And b-t-w, if anyone asks you what's in the box, I'd say 'feminine supplies.'" The box was large and heavy, and there was a distinct clanging sound as I carried it. "As in tampons?" "Keely's not going to ask questions. Ali's busy with the twins, and everyone else around here is male. Tampons scare the bejeezus out of them, my dad included, but if the person who asks is a Were, they'd smell a lie. Hence, feminine supplies." "Because we're females, and they're our supplies?" I guessed. "No. Because weapons are feminine." Lake gave me an insulted look. "Why do you think I named my gun Matilda?

Ali wrinkled her forehead and cocked her head to the side. Clearly, she hadn't prepared herself for me to be pleasant. After a moment, her eyes narrowed. "What exactly did you and Lake did yesterday?" she asked, like we might have held up a gas station and gone on a crime spree across the country, all in the span of just a few hours. "We went to Mexico, had some tequila, eloped with a pair of drug smugglers, and took part-time jobs as exotic dancers. You know, same old, same old." Ali snorted. "I'm torn on stripper names. It's either going to be Lady Love or Wolfsbane Lane. Thoughts?" Ali threw a onesie at me. "Brat.

What if he hates me?" "No one could possibly hate you, Xander," I told him, my heart twisting. "Avery, people have hated me my whole life." There was something in his tone that made me think that very few people understood what it was like to be Xander Hawthorne. "Not anyone who knows you," I said fiercely. Xander smiled, and something about it made me want to cry. "Do you think it's okay," he said, sounding younger than I'd ever heard him, "that I loved playing those Saturday morning games? Loved growing up here? Loved the great and terrible Tobias Hawthorne?

Nobody liked my plan. "You want us to split up?" Chase asked, his brow wrinkling in obvious bewilderment. Lake echoed the sentiment, her voice flat. "Why would we split up? There's four of us and one of him." After a brief moment's pause, she amended her head count to better reflect the real odds. "Three and a half of us, one of him." Three and a half, as in three werewolves, one human. I narrowed my eyes. "For your sake, Lake, I'm going to pretend that Devon is the half." Dev, unquestionably the strongest person in the room, just shrugged and let me keep my delusions. "It's because of my petite stature," he said. All 6'4" of him.