Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick.

I love language, words, and all the lovely, exciting, and heart wrenching things you can do with them. Pick the right ones, put them in the right order, and you’ve created a moment in time where the reader forgets about the late car payment, the dirty dishes, the impending workweek. You have created a state of bliss. Or negligence, depending on your perspective.

They were back. The demons in all their glory. And they had a plan. I made plans sometimes, too, but they rarely involved world domination. Hot dogs on a grill, maybe. Tequila.

I lowered the gun but didn’t holster it. Not just yet. She could turn out to be psychotic. Or a door-to-door salesperson.

I'd never taken to four foot creatures who had the uncanny ability to point out all my flaws in thirty second flat. And just for the record, I can too read without moving my lips.

We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, "I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry.

That you honestly believe I am capable of hurting innocent people for no reason.” “You’re not?” I asked, hope softening my voice. “Oh, no, I’m more than capable. I just didn’t realize you knew that.