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I can hear other things, too. Before you came around, I had no idea a man could make a girl scream like that. Reyes seems very talented.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Make
Scream
Things
Hear
Men
Came
Like
Idea
Girl
Around
Seems
Reyes
Ideas
Talented

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That boy needs a hobby. Stalking is a hobby. So is serial killing.
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.. an emergency stash of Thin Mints. Frickin' Girl Scouts. Those things were way to addictive. They had to be laced with crack. Charlie Davidson Fourth Grave Beneath my Feet
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Honestly, he acted as though he didn't like me anymore. Wait, maybe he didn't. Do you still like me? I never liked you. Oh, right. He had a point. Garreth & Charley
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Okay, I'll strip. I'll tap dance. I'll sing 'La Cucaracha' in C minor.
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Before I tell you, I have to know three things, I said. Okay. One, are you sitting down? Yes. Two, are you mentally stable? More than you'll ever be. Well, that was uncalled for. And three, how do you spell schizophrenia? What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. I just wanted to see if you'd tell me.
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Chocolate and coffee ? Together ? Whoever came up with that combination should have won a Nobel Peace Prize. Or at least a subscription to Reader's Digest.
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Cookie had taken her daughter amber to school then walked the thirty-something feet to work earlier. Our business was on the second floor of Calamity's, my dad's bar, which sat right in front of our apartment building. The short commute was nice and rarely invloved rabid raccoons.
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After a long, labored sigh, I said, “She was really happy when I got there. I’m pretty sure she was suicidal when I left.” “You do have that effect on people.
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She didn't smile back. Not even a little. I totally needed to read that book on how to win friends and influence people. But that would involve an innate desire to win friends and influence people.
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He was like chocolate-covered heroin, and I was an addict through and through.
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Just in case, though, I stormed into my apartment, tossed a quick hello to Mr. Wong, then rummaged through my entertainment center to lay out all my exorcism equipment. I kept it in my entertainment center because exorcisms were nothing if not entertaining.
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After a geological epoch passed in which single-celled organisms evolved into talk show hosts, Mr. Coffee was still holding out on me.
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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.
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She shook her head then took off again, and I found myself struggling to keep up with her in my bunny slippers. With a sigh, I realized I was getting way too much exercise. I'd just have to counteract it later with cake.
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He’d actually hit me! It didn’t matter that hitting me wasn’t really like hitting a regular girl and I’d be completely healed in a matter of hours. I was still a freaking girl, and he damned well knew it. I’d just have to hit him back. With a lead pipe. Or an eighteen-wheeler.
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I was white. Chalk had more color than I did. And quite possibly more personality.
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I totally should've gone to Hogwarts when I had the chance.
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I climbed into Misery and called Uncle Bob. “We hooking up?” “Why does everything out of your mouth make me sound incestuous?” “Um, I wasn’t aware that it did. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience.” “Charley.” “Is there something you need to get off your chest? Besides that skank I saw you with the other day?
Darynda Jones