With the exception of dessert, food is food.

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.

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

Ranger picked up and there was a moment of silence as if he was sensing me at the other end, taking my body temperature and heart rate long distance. “Babe,” he finally said. “Do you know the slum apartment building Bobby Sunflower owns on Stark?” “Yes. It’s on the same block as his funeral home.” “That’s the one. I’m going in to look for someone. If you don’t hear from me in a half hour maybe you could send someone to check.” “Is this a smart thing to do?” “Probably not.” “As long as you know,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.

What are you doing back at the bakery?” I asked [Diesel]. “Did you know Wulf was here?” “No. I knew food was here.

Wondering where Ranger was now, when I needed him. Why wasn’t he here, insisting on locking me up in a safe house? Now that my hamster’s cage was clean, I’d be happy to oblige.

Babe," Ranger said. "You're looking a little strung out. Is there anything I should know?" I'm on a sugar withdrawal. I've given up desert and it's all I can think about." That had been true five minutes ago. Now that Ranger was standng in front of me I was thinking a cupcake wasn't what I actually needed. Maybe I can help you get your mind off doughnuts," Ranger said. My mouth dropped open, and I think some drool might have dribbled out.