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He bombarded me with words, of all things, apparently clueless to the fact that the predawn hours rendered me incapable of coherent thought.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Facts
Clueless
Thought
Coherent
Things
Rendered
Apparently
Incapable
Hours
Fact
Words
Bombarded

More quotes by Darynda Jones

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There is a great need for a sarcasm font.
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A Nuns Life: Chastity, poverty, and obedience. Wait, chastity? BUMPER STICKER
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Pretending to drink coffee was similar to faking an orgasm.
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A sheriff arrested me. I could be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure my men-in-uniform fetish began that day. The sheriff was hot. And he handcuffed me. I've never been the same.
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What do I look like, the ghost whisperer? They're loony. I'd have better luck talking to my cousin Alfonso's Chihuahua. At least Tía Juana knows Spanish. Your cousin's Chihuahua is named Tía Juana?
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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.
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See you in a few. Hold down the fort, Mr. Wong!
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That you honestly believe I am capable of hurting innocent people for no reason.” “You’re not?” I asked, hope softening my voice. “Oh, no, I’m more than capable. I just didn’t realize you knew that.
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Dead people I could handle. They were usually beyond hysteria. This was the people-left behind part. The hard part.
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Ask me about my complete lack of interest. (T-shirt)
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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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Come here often?' I asked instead, humoring no one but myself. So it was totally worth it.
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“Time-out,” I said... He twisted his hand around and wound his fingers into mine. “You‘re putting me in time-out?” “Yes,” I said as a shaky sigh slid through my lips. “If I don't go, do I get a spanking?”
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Can I brush your hair?” she asked as she led the way, her disposition doing a 180 on a dime. Kids. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t eat ’em for lunch.
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He's helped me a lot over the years. I'm sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours. I have skin allergies. I'm itchy.
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But, you're his son, I said, trying really hard to hate him. You're the son of Satan. Literally. And you are the stepdaughter of Denise Davidson. Wow. That was a bit harsh, but, Okay, point taken.
Darynda Jones
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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.
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You’re the reason I breathe
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Reyes Farrow. Because perfection is a dirty job, but someone has to do it.
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Okay, I'll strip. I'll tap dance. I'll sing 'La Cucaracha' in C minor.
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