I had to promise to look him up if I was ever in the City of Angels.” She winked to Uncle Bob. “He liked my voice.” “Mom,” Amber said, utterly appalled. “You used your feminine wiles on a man you don’t even know.” Cookie smiled. “That’s what they’re for, honey. Eat your salad.
Of all the strange events in my life, that was by far the weirdest I’d had in hours.
Because no being can live in a perfect world. Life is destined to fight to survive. To thrive. To prosper. To have more than the have-nots. All life destroys in order to live.
I was my own girl, and no one was walking on this carpet but me.
Because I don’t deserve your touch.
You have to understand, it goes against every fiber of my being. But I have to let you navigate the terrain on your own.
Are we not all products of the world we were born into just as much as, if not more than, the parents we were given to?
There is a fine line between freedom and slavery.
I stood, crossed over to my office and poured him a cup, then asked if he liked his coffee like I liked my Death Stars: gigantic, on the Dark Side, and powerful enough to destroy a planet. He laughed softly. “A little cream is fine.” “One coffee high coming up,” I.
She said her mother has a strap-on named Event Horizon.” I hid a burst of laughter behind a cough, then asked, “Do you know what a strap-on is?” She gave me a look of incredulity. “Of course. I know what a bra is. You strap it on.” “Right.” I patted her shoulder. “Well, some people name their bras. Personally, I find the practice bizarre.” She giggled. “You name everything.” “Not my bras. Who does that?” I.
Anything. Unless it involves math. Four out of three people are bad at math.
If it has tires or testicles, it’s gonna give you trouble – bumper sticker.
Thank God I don’t have to hunt for my food. I don’t even know where tacos live.
Reyes,” she said, stars in her eyes. “He likes my cinnamon rolls.” “I can’t believe this. You’re cheating on me with Reyes? You’ve been making him your famous cinnamon rolls while I’ve been stuck in a hell dimension, longing for the ability to chew my toenails just for something to do?” Amber whisked by us. “And enchiladas. He loves her enchiladas.” “Cook!” The sting of a thousand traitorous daggers pierced my heart. “I’m telling Uncle Bob.
I want you, Dutch, body and soul. I want you in my bed every night. I want you there when I wake up in the morning. I want your clothes strung across my apartment and your scent on my skin.
Just as I put my plate on my desk, I noticed a priest waiting in Cookie’s office. He was wearing a jacket and jeans, but the collar gave it away every time. We’d apparently forgotten to lock the door, but in all my years as a PI, a priest was new. I felt like I should do the sign of the cross as I walked forward, but I could never remember if it was up-down-left-right or up-down-right-left. I was so bad with directions.
I guess it’s a good thing you can have a relationship with a departed,” he said. “Why’s that?” “We can still see each other after I die.
See this? This i-e? When two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking.
He let go of one gun and put his hand on my face as though it were a precious jewel. “Pumpkin.” Or an autumn fruit.
Does workman’s comp cover paper cuts?” “Do chickens lay snowballs?