Lots of times I’m not crazy about the writing, but I keep moving ahead and somehow it gets better. The important thing is to move forward.
I think I got a bruise from landing on you. I hear bacon is real good for healing a bruise.
Go figure that. Joseph Morelli with a house, a dog, a steady job, and an SUV. And on odd days of the month he woke up wanting to marry me. It turns out want to marry him on even days of the month, so to date we’ve been spared commitment.
You can get through very serious and sometimes horrible and sometimes embarrassing and very awkward situations with humor. It gives us a way out.
I took all of my rejection letters – there must have been thousands of them in a huge box – and I went out on the curb and burned them all, crying.
Somewhere along the line, I realized that I liked telling stories, and I decided that I would try writing. Ten years later, I finally got a book published. It was hard. I had no skills. I knew nothing about the business of getting published. So I had to keep working at it.
We don’t appreciate the value of humor sometimes.
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.
You’re such a cupcake.