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I’m Charlotte Davidson: private investigator, police consultant, all -around badass. Or I could’ve been a badass, had I stuck with those lessons in mixed martial arts. I was only in that class to learn how to kill people with paper.
Darynda Jones
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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
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Friona
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Charlotte
More quotes by Darynda Jones
Have they even seen the Winchester boys? Sammy and Dean's existence proves there is a god and she is a woman.
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Hello? I said, because Charley's House of Pasties seemed wrong.
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An integral part of any best friend's job is to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
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If life hands you lemons,keep them. Because, hey, free lemons.-T-Shirt
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I chose the road less traveled. Now I'm lost.
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Have you slept yet?' 'Sure. I took a power nap on the way over.' 'Didn't you drive there?' 'Yeah. Other drviers kept waking me up. Car horns should be illegal.' - Charley & Cookie
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The funny thing about GPS was it didn’t always send you in the right direction. I knew that if I took a right and took Twelfth instead, I’d get there faster, so I turned right. Ozzy did not approve. “Wut the foock?
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If it weren’t for physics and law enforcement, I’d be unstoppable.
Darynda Jones
You’re just using me for my body.” “You don’t have a body,” I’d remind him. “Throw that in my face.” “Technically, you don’t have a face either.
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My plans often went awry. Much like my thoughts. Hold the phones. Maybe Saan had ADD, too. It would explain a lot.
Darynda Jones
SOME GIRLS WEAR PRADA. SOME GIRLS WEAR GLOCK 17 SHORT RECOIL SPRING-LOADED SEMIAUTOMATIC PISTOLS WITH A LOADED CHAMBER INDICATOR AND A NONSLIP GRIP. - T-SHIRT
Darynda Jones
The dead guy looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t move my legs.” I snorted. “You can’t move your arms either, or your feet or your freaking eyelids. You’re dead.
Darynda Jones
Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.
Darynda Jones
The point is, stories can be all lengths. Never underestimate the power of “less is more.
Darynda Jones
That boy needs a hobby. Stalking is a hobby. So is serial killing.
Darynda Jones
I shifted in my chair as Dad waited for a response. He seemed determined, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possibly Milk Duds. “Are you psychotic?” I asked, realizing my plan to charm and bribe him if need be flew out the window the minute I opened my mouth.
Darynda Jones
She blinked at me, then realized I was panicking. Honestly, it was like admitting to murder before being interrogated. “Ms. Davidson,” she began, but I decided to trip her up, to throw her off the trail of blood I’d left like an injured animal. “I don’t speak English.
Darynda Jones
My real mom died when I was born—hemorrhaged to death while giving birth to me, which has never been one of my favorite memories—and Dad married Denise before I’d turned a year. Without even asking my opinion on the matter. Denise and I never really clicked.
Darynda Jones
I know how you feel. I’ve been analyzed to death as well. Not, like, professionally, though I did date a psych major who said I had attention issues. Or at least that’s what I think he said. I wasn’t really paying attention. Anyway, where was I?
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I may as well cut my losses and make a hasty exit while I still had enough self-esteem to walk upright. Crawling was so demoralizing
Darynda Jones