If you want to cry, you're not going to like my books.

Last time you called me late at night you were naked and chained to your shower curtain rod. I hope this isn't going to be disappointing.

I disconnected and made a mental note not to call Tank unless I was bleeding profusely, and he was the only other person on earth.

By about the sixth romance I knew I wasn't in exactly the right place. I liked writing action. And I wanted to write a book with a little more edge than I was allowed in romance.

I felt my cell phone buzz, and I looked at the screen. Ranger. “Your GPS just went blank,” Ranger said when I answered. “The car exploded.” There was a beat of silence. “Rafael won the pool,” Ranger said. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “I’ll send someone.

Men!" "At least we don't fake it." "Listen, it was your uncle. And we were late, remember? So I made the sacrifice and got us there in time for dessert. You should be thanking me." Morelli's mouth was open slightly and his face was registering a mixture of astonished disbelief and wounded, pissed-off male pride. Okay, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice at the time, and I knew he shouldn't be thanking me, but give me a break here... this wasn't famine in Ethiopia

Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked. "Not right now." "There will come a time," Ranger said. "Let me know when." And he disconnected. I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there'd been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead.