The dog always dies. Go to the library and pick out a book with an award sticker and a dog on the cover. Trust me, that dog is going down.

What does it feel like to get shot?" "I don't recommend it," said Nellie in a controlled voice. "Chocolate is definitely better.

For someone who'e smarter than a supercomputer, sometimes you're a real idiot.

Don't think of it as losing a boyfriend. Think of it as gaining a stalker." -Dan Cahill

Nellie's brow furrowed. "The great Mr. Hip-Hop Mogul standing in line with the common peasants? How do you figure that?" Dan grinned. "I'm starting to dig this 'no cars' thing. It's a great equalizer.

Nellie grinned. "I always wanted to go to Venice. It's supposed to be the romance capital of the world." "Sweet," put in Dan. "Too bad your date is an Egyptian Mau on a hunger strike." The au pair sighed. "Better than an eleven-year-old with a big mouth.

They crested a rise, and there it was, in the hollow between rolling hills—a low, square building, ghostly gray in the moonlight. "Is that it?" asked Hamilton. "It probably isn't the local opera house," groaned Ian.