He rooted for the Mets, he wore Foot of the Loom underwear, and he drove a Buick. His loyalties were carved in stone and he wasn't about to be impressed with some upstart of a toaster salesman who drove a Bonneville.

I was driving by, doing a security check... and I smelled leg of lamb." Morelli

He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun. "I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you," Ranger said. "I found it in the cookie jar." "Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar." "Name one." "Rockford." Ranger grinned. "I stand corrected.

I like my nuts," Mooner said. "I don't want them cut off. I'd be, like, nutless then.

Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. I think everyone should have lots of delicious romance novels lying around for those times when the peanut butter of life gets stuck to the roof of your mouth.

The way I see it, living in New Jersey is a challenge, what with the toxic waste and the eighteen wheelers and the armed schizophrenics." Connie Rosolli

Omigod,' I said on a sudden flash of sleep-deprived insight. 'You're the big bad wolf.' There are some similarities.