If you want to cry, you’re not going to like my books.
I like being able to provide consistent and frequent literary choices for my fans.
The note wasn’t signed, but I could tell it was from Morelli by the way my nipples got hard.
Stop the planet. I want to get off.
I got out of the elevator and confronted Mr. Wexler. “Killing is wrong.” “We kill chickens,” Mr. Wexler said. “We kill cows. We kill trees. So big deal, we kill some drug dealers.” It was hard to argue with that kind of logic because I like cows and chickens and trees much better than drug dealers.
I got out of the tub and had to squelch a scream when I saw my reflection in the vanity mirror. My hair looked like it had taken 2000 volts and been spray starched.
I wasn’t a fabulous cook. I didn’t have a boyfriend, much less a husband. And I wasn’t a big financial success. I could live with all those failings as long as I knew that once in a while I looked really hot.
I rolled my eyes so far into the top of my head I almost fell over backward.
Your life isn’t out of control. It’s expanded.
Last time you called me late at night you were naked and chained to your shower curtain rod. I hope this isn’t going to be disappointing.
I’ve never been in this part of Trenton before. I don’t feel comfortable driving around buildings that haven’t got gang slogans sprayed on them. Look at this place. No boarded-up windows. No garbage in the gutter. No brothers selling goods on the street. Don’t know how people can live like this.
It was a weird sensation. Like getting caught eavesdropping, or lying, or sitting on the toilet and having the bathroom walls suddenly drop away.
I failed math twice, never fully grasping probability theory. I mean, first off, who cares if you pick a black ball or a white ball out of the bag? And second, if you’re bent over about the color, don’t leave it to chance. Look in the damn bag and pick the color you want.
You’re such a cupcake.
I’d kiss you, but you smell like a gym bag.
He’s going to jail. He can’t see. He can’t hear. He can’t take a leak that lasts under fifteen minutes. But he has an erection and all the other problems are small change. Next time around I’m coming back as a man. Priorities are clearly defined. Life is simple.
Okay, take a deep breath, I told myself. Don’t go all hormonal. Get the facts straight. Have a mental doughnut.
You deserved to get run over. And besides, I barely tapped you. The only reason you broke your leg was because you panicked and tripped over your own feet.
Morelli grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and kissed me. It was a great kiss, but I didn’t know what the heck it meant. It seemed to me a breaking up kiss would have had less tongue.
Look at you! You look like Rangeman Barbie. You got a gun and everything. -Lula.