“Eve: She told me last!
Shane: Boyfriend!
Michael: Landlord!
Eve: Crap. Right. Next time you sell your soul to the devil, I get first contact!”

“Expecting anybody else?' Shane asked Eve. 'Your distant cousin Jack the Ripper dropping by too?'

'Screw you, Collins.”

“That's it? That's your big goodbye?" Eve asked.
Claire looked at Eve mystified. "I think I need guy CliffNotes."
"Guys aren't deep enough to need CliffNotes."
"What were you waiting for, flowery poetry?" Shane snorted. "I hugged. I'm done.”

“Hey, Mikey? You get her hurt and I'll end you."
"You let anything happen to Eve and I'll do the same," Michael said. He'd just finished kissing Eve, too. "While you're at it, don't get yourself killed, either, bro."
"Ditto. And don't kiss me.”

“Hell’s put in a skating rink,” Shane said. “This is actually edible, Eve.”

“Faster!" Shane yelled. Eve hit the gas hard, and whipped around a slower-moving van. The firing ceased, at least for now. "You see why I didn't want you to stop?"
"Okay, your father is officially!" Eve yelled. "Oh my God, look at my car!”

“Better be," Eve said. She mock-bit at his finger. "I could totally date somebody else, you know."
"And I could rent out your room."
"And I could put your game console on eBay."
"Hey," Shane protested. "Now you're just being mean.”

“Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it's a letdown, they won't buy anymore. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book.”

“He'd told her that the phrase deal with the Devil came from him; Ellie felt like she was on the verge of selling her soul.”

“Seriously,” Shane said, “this kind of is the worst situation we’ve ever been in, right?”
“Speak for yourself,” Michael said. “I got myself killed last year. Twice.”
“Oh yeah. You’re right—last year really sucked for you.”