He spoke in telegram-as if every word he used cost five bucks, and he only had a twenty in his wallet.

This wasn't Weirdville, this was fricking Wonderland. Alice here was all grow up, but she was still chowing down on too much of that psychedelic mushroom.

I love the fact that so many of my readers are intelligent, exceptional, accomplished people with an open-minded love of diversity.

He wanted to wake up to her smile every day for the rest of his life, like some stupid coffee commercial on TV.

Recovering from a gunshot wound is not a vacation. You need to, like, write that on your hand or something.

That leaves Decker and what's his name, Mr. I'm Too Sexy for My Shirt.

...there's no such thing as an underwear elf. Even when it goes missing, it's somewhere in the room. So make sure you find it." -- DARK OF NIGHT by Suzanne Brockmann