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Jennifer Estep

Jennifer Estep Books

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Deadly Sting

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Widow's Web

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Kill the Queen

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Kiss of Frost

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Tangled Threads

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Crimson Frost

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By a Thread

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Dark Frost

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The Spider

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Heart of Venom

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Poison Promise

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Spartan Frost

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Thread of Death

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Touch of Frost

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Venom

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Web of Lies

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Related Quotes

“What I can make people do . . . it’s not what they want to do. It may sound corny, but I want people to like me for me, not because I can force them to or because of who my mom is or who I am in the Family. You know?” He raised his green gaze to my blue one. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Lila. You don’t care about any of that.” “Just one of the things?” I teased, trying to make him laugh a little, just so he’d forget his guilt and grief, if only for a few moments. “Just one.” His voice took on a low, husky note. “I could list all the others, if you want.” My gaze locked with his and my soulsight kicked in, showing me all of his emotions. And I felt them, too—more intensely than I ever had before. His heart still ached with that soul-crushing guilt, and it always would. But that hot spark I’d seen inside him that first day at the Razzle Dazzle had finally ignited into a roaring fire, burning as hot and bright as my own emotions were right now. Devon hesitated, then leaned in, just a little. My breath caught in my throat. He inched forward a little more. I wet my lips. He came even closer, so close that his warm breath brushed my cheek and his scent flooded my nose, that sharp, fresh tang of pine. Clean and crisp, just like he was, inside and out. I sighed. Suddenly, my hands itched to touch him, to trace my fingers over the sharp planes of his face, and then slide them lower, over all of his warm, delicious muscles . . . “Lila,” he whispered. I shivered, loving the sound of my name on his lips—lips that were heartbreakingly close to mine—”

“So,” I said. “Exactly how long have the two of you been together? I assume that you’ve been going hot and heavy ever since that night at Fletcher’s house when the bounty hunters interrupted you. Am I right?” Finn and Bria didn’t look at me or each other. “Right,” Bria mumbled. “Although if it makes you uncomfortable—” “Then Gin’s just going to have to deal with it,” Finn cut her off. Bria stared at him in surprise. “What?” Finn said. “I worked too hard and too long to get you into my bed to just cut you loose now, cupcake.” Bria’s eyes narrowed. “Cupcake?” “Cupcake.” Finn grinned at her. “Or would you prefer snuggle bunny?” Bria’s hand drifted down to the gun on her leather belt, as though she wanted to pull it out and shoot Finn with it. Well, it was good to know I wasn’t the only one who occasionally had that reaction to him. ... Then I fixed them both with a hard stare. “Just don’t ask me to take sides when the two of you go at each other. Okay?” They nodded, then looked at each other. Finn waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and Bria snorted. But she couldn’t stop a grin from curving her lips.”

“Bria was silent for a moment. “What—what were you dreaming about?” I shrugged. “The usual. The night that our mother and Annabella died. I always see different parts of it, different bits and pieces.” “What did you see tonight?” I grimaced, even though she couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Oh, tonight was a real doozy. I dreamed about watching them die, about seeing them both disappear into balls of flames as Mab’s elemental Fire washed over them.” “Oh.”

“The detective noticed Owen glaring at him and did a double take as well, as surprised by his appearance as Owen had been by his. The two men stared at each other for several seconds before Donovan squared his shoulders and headed in our direction. “Incoming,” Finn muttered, letting out a low whistle and then a crashing sound under his breath, like a bomb was about to drop down and explode on our heads.”

“Well, what did you have for lunch?” I snapped. “Surely that’s not top secret superhero information.” “Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad,” Striker replied. “And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.” I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.”

“You picked that out?” Caine asked. “That pink, plastic toy?” I turned to look at him. “I happen to have been a little girl, once upon a time, detective. I know what they like. Every little girl wants to be a princess.” A thoughtful frown overcame the angry tension on Caine’s rugged face. “And what happens when they grow up?” I thought of my mother and sisters and all the horrors that had happened the day they’d died. A bitter laugh escaped from my tight lips. “Then they just want to be little girls again.”

“Can you play the piano like Beethoven? Or sing like Carly Simon? Can you take fie pages' worth of quotes and turn them into a usable story ten minutes before deadline? I don't think so, unless you have more hidden talents I don't know about. We all have our special sills. They don't make us better or worse than each other. Just different”

“The panther prowled around me in a loose, wide circle. Its mouth turned down, almost in a pout, and it seemed disappointed that I wasn't going to run away. Or scream, at the very least. Its tail, which was at least three feet long, twitched back and forth in what seemed to be annoyance. Or maybe anticipation. I didn't know. I'd always been more of a dog person. I cleared my throat, and the panther stopped and flicked up one of its rounded ears. Listening. "Um, nice kitty?”