When you get ready to write your novel, outline it first. There's nothing worse than getting halfway through and realizing you've painted yourself in a plot corner.

You're not looking for a partner," Ranger said. "You're looking for an enforcer. You hate to run. You must be worried about getting into that black dress. What did you eat just now? Piece of cake? Candy bar?" "Everything," I said. "I just ate everything.

It was Lorraine in her nightie and Mo in his cap. They'd just settled their brains for a long winter's nap in front of the television. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their recliners to see what was the matter. Away to the window they flew like a flash, tore open the blinds and threw up the sash. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, but Stephanie Plum and yet another of her cars burning front to rear.

Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?" I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?" "Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway." "There's all kinds of love," I said. Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy." "That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.

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

Is that a bulletproof vest? See, now that's so insulting. That's like saying I'm not smart enough to shoot you in the head." Eddie DeChooch

Shirley's gonna be pissed," Gazarra said. "She hates when I get shot." To my recollection, the only other time Gazarra was shot was when he was playing quick draw in the police station elevator and his gun accidentally discharged. The bullet ricocheted off the elevator wall and lodged in Gazarra's right buttock.