Valerie was crying, too. She was laughing and sniffling back sobs. “I’m going to marry my snuggy wuggums,” she said. Morelli paused, his fork halfway to the roast chicken platter. He slid his eyes to me and leaned close. “If you ever call me snuggy wuggums in public I’ll lock you in the cellar and chain you to the furnace.

The golden years are for pussies. We went straight to brass.

A woman's never too old to make an idiot of herself. It goes along with equality of the sexes and potty parity.

I want to see your tailpipe fading off into the sunset." Good luck, I thought. My tailpipe was somewhere on Route 1, along with my muffler.

He specializes in virgins! The brush of his fingertips turns virgins into slobbering mush." Mary Lou Molnar

You'd tell me if we were getting married, wouldn't you? I mean, you wouldn't just appear on my doorstep one day and say we were due at the church in an hour.

Have you eaten?' I asked Diesel. When?' Recently.' No.