I grew up in Montana, where an old, unregistered rifle was worth a lot more than a new gun whose ownership could be traced. Not that the gun owners in Montana are planning on committing crimes with their unregistered guns – they just don’t like the federal government knowing their every move.

— Patricia Briggs

Patricia Briggs Quotes

Medea yowled at me and stropped my leg, broadcasting the information that no one had fed her. Cats lie, and I was pretty sure she was lying. But feeding her made me happy and made her happy.

— Patricia Briggs

He sees people – all the way through them – and he likes them anyway.

— Patricia Briggs

You come home, Daddy,” she told him. “I love my mother, but if I have to live with her for very long, one of us will commit a homicide. And you bring Mercy and the pip-squeak back.

— Patricia Briggs

My people eat yours,” Larry informed the cat. Medea kneaded his thighs lightly and kicked her purr up a few notches. He gave in and started to pet her.

— Patricia Briggs

I had two choices. I could stand here and cry – or I could get mad. Guess which one I chose.

— Patricia Briggs

I eyed Zee. “How would you like to come with us to look at a crime scene?” Zee shook his head. “No.” “You are staying here,” Adam told me firmly. “Your feet hurt.” – We all went, of course. “Alpha werewolf meets coyote,” murmured George gleefully from the back of Adam’s SUV as I hopped in. “Fae – ” “Stop,” said Zee, climbing in beside him. George didn’t lose his grin, but he quit talking. George was not stupid.

— Patricia Briggs

Wulfe had been as likely to hoard dried flowers as exquisite jewelry.

— Patricia Briggs

I pounded my forehead against Warren’s back. “Tell me Ben’s not flirting with me.” “Hey,” said Ben sounding hurt. “I was talking cannibalism, not romance.

— Patricia Briggs

A couple of months back, our last paper-delivery person met Joel in his tibicena form and refused to come back, which was fair. I didn’t know what the newspaper paid its delivery staff, but it wasn’t enough to brave a volcano god’s demon dog.

— Patricia Briggs

You’ll figure it out,” he assured her earnestly. She turned to him, eyes alight with ire – and then frowned. “Quit baiting me.” He grinned. Unable to help himself. What a gift she was.

— Patricia Briggs

That the feeling I got from them through the pack bonds was eagerness for the hunt was a testimony that all werewolves are crazy.

— Patricia Briggs

The pack was better with Anna in it, in ways far more subtle than he or his da had expected. They had hoped for calm – they had not expected happy.

— Patricia Briggs

He didn’t think she was his enemy. But certainly not his friend.

— Patricia Briggs

This frail cloth, a gift to the person he had once been, was his touchstone, a reminder that once he had been whole. Once there had been joy.

— Patricia Briggs

Cain’s hairy titties,” muttered Ben, joining me in my observation of the rural setting. “What hermit was so misguided in life that he was hanging around this peopleless landscape at the bell end of the night and happened to see a freaking goblin disappear into a hay barn? And for that matter, goblins are city denizens like me. What the shagging hell is it doing out here?

— Patricia Briggs

Suddenly Chelsea’s eyes met Anna’s from across the table and held them. Icy gray became even more pale, and Chelsea’s nostrils flared. “Who hurt you?” she asked, slicing through the two other conversations going on at the table.

— Patricia Briggs

Some people, me, get a black eye and other people ask “who beat you up?” Other people, Spielman, get a black eye and other people say “where did they bury the other guy?

— Patricia Briggs

It is difficult for a chicken to make an alliance with a fox – you never know when you’ll be eaten for breakfast.

— Patricia Briggs

Give that wolf of yours a nudge for me. I do love Russian men.

— Patricia Briggs

Her lips twisted. “I don’t like you,” she told me, but there was a lie in her voice, and she stopped talking, looking almost surprised.

— Patricia Briggs
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