I don't want my readers slowed down by long passages of narrative.

We were discussing a grisly double murder and Rodriguez was telling us all this in the same sort of conversational tone a person might use to pass on a favorite lasagna recipe. And I was responding with the same enthusiasm a new cook might show. I was simultaneously horrified and impressed with myself.

Ranger plays by his own set of rules, and I don't have a complete copy.

You could be the Mega Mage of wizards. You could rule Minionfire. Do you really think so?' Yeah, but you'd have to make a deal with the wood elves.' I don't like the wood elves.' They're okay. They're misunderstood.

Ranger sent us to check on you," Hal said. "We just got here, and we heard shots." "Some moron ate my jelly doughnut," Lula said. "So I shot him.

Ranger removed my goggles "Would you like to come home with me?" I stepped away from him. "Thank you for the offer, but no. I'm done with men." Ranger smiled. "Forever?" "Until I figure some things out." "And if you don't figure them out?" "If I can't figure them out on my own, I'll ask you to help me." "Babe, that's like the blind leading the blind.

I knew there were no such things as death cooties. Unfortunately, that's an intellectual fact. And death cooties are an emotional reality.