He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.

You don't look so hot, Adrien." "Yeah, well I'm having a bad heart day." His upper lip curled in a semblance of a smile. "Tell me about it.

I want people to react to my work, to think, to question, to challenge, to cry and laugh and feel.

When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.

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

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

I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?