I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, "He writes murder mysteries.

I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.

Adrien, people get killed all the time. Since when is it your job to find out what happened to them?" "I'm not usually suspected of murdering them." "You have been as long as I've known you.

Rachel delivered it like an official pronouncement. Like she was one of the fairies gifting Sleeping Beauty's christening: Beauty. Intelligence. Heterosexual.

He needed fresh air and sunshine. A walk in the woods and afterward a good book to read by the fire. Yeah, that was the life.