You're up to something," I said. He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?" "Yeah, you.

Twenty-three stories up and all I could see out the windows was grey smog. They could call it the City of the Angels if they wanted to, but if there were angels out there, they had to be flying blind.

And your excuse?' I asked. 'I'm a sociopath; I don't have to be nice,' Nicky said. I gave him a look. 'You're mad at him.I can feel it; which means I really don't have to be nice to him.' 'I thought you were friends.' 'What part of sociopath didn't you understand?' he asked.

It always amazes me how many women like dangerous men. Men who almost from the moment you meet them, you know are bad news. Me, I prefer my men kinder, gentler, nice. Niceness is highly underrated by most people.

a pink taffeta evening gown. It looked like it had run away from a junior high prom... The dress looked like a petunia on steroids to me.

Never interrupt when you're winning.

It was an hour before dawn. When all the Whos down in Whoville were asnooze in their beds without care. Sorry, wrong book. If I get to stay awake until dawn, I get just a tad slaphappy.