I didn't know if he really meant talk, make out, or something else completely, but I'd be happy with any of them.

Moonlight slipped in through the lace curtains, slicing everything with its sliver cracks. That's how I felt right now - cold and cracked and hollow and empty.

Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.

This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.

Gin! Gin, are you here?” “Right behind you,” I said. Finn shrieked and whirled around. I winced at the high-pitched sound. “Dammit, woman.” He clutched the folder to his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

It didn't take long for the anger to put the happiness in a headlock.

Art should look like art, trees and flowers and people, not weird shapes and splotches of color all smeared together.