Either get out of bed or else take your clothes off,” he said. “I’m not in the mood to compromise.
I attributed the incidence to temporary insanity, and in my own defense, I’d like to say I haven’t run over anyone since.
Thinking very often resembles napping, but the intent is different. – Stephanie Plum.
I wasn’t dating anyone. I was fornicating with Batman.
I need to look like an idiot at least twice a day to keep myself humble.
How many times have I told you not to hit people in the face. You kick them in the body where it doesn’t show.
Men drive off bridges and drink too much because of women like you.
Truth is, I think naked men are kind of strange looking what with their doodles and ding-dong hanging loose like they do. Nevertheless, there’s the curiosity thing. I guess it’s another one of those car crash experiences, where you feel compelled to look even if you know you’ll be horrified.
Some men go a lifetime and never have their kid blow up a car, but I have a daughter who’s knocked off three cars and burned down a funeral home. Maybe that’s some kind of record.
I ran three miles, staggered into the lobby, and took the elevator back to my apartment. No point to overdoing this exercise junk. – Stephanie Plum.
You’re a lunatic. You ran me over with a goddamn Buick.
Honey, a man can’t keep his gun in a cookie jar. It just isn’t done.
There is no such thing as a good call at 7 AM. It’s been my experience that all calls between the hours of 11 PM and 9 AM are disaster calls.
Omigod,? I said on a sudden flash of sleep-deprived insight. ‘You’re the big bad wolf.’ There are some similarities.
Good thing he’s dead,” Lula said, “or that would have hurt like the devil.
Has it ever occurred to you that you might be delusional?? That’s what the psychiatrist said, but I think he’s wrong. There’s an evil flying pizza out there, and it’s got Brenda’s name on it.
How was your day?” Morelli asked me. “Oh, you know, the usual. Stole a truck. Blew up a building, and brought seven monkeys home with me.
Holy Crap,′ Carolli said. ‘You shot Jesus. That’s gonna take a lot of Hail Marys.
Excuse me?” I said, palms down on the Formica tabletop. “Coffee? I thought we came here for pie.” “I don’t eat the kind of pie they serve here.” I felt a flash of heat go through my stomach. I knew firsthand the kind of pie Ranger liked.
I’d slept with Ranger! Not sexually, of course. But I’d been in his bed. And then there was the evil shower gel. “It was all because of the shower gel,” I said. Morelli’s eyes narrowed. “Shower gel?” I made a major effort not to sigh. “Long story. You probably don’t want to hear it.