Quote

Reyes leaned back against the bar, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied me from beneath those same ridiculously long lashes. Men and their freaking lashes. It was so unfair. Like the exorbitant cost of designer shoes. Or world hunger.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Shoes
Chest
Cost
Chests
Reyes
Arms
Studied
Exorbitant
Back
Unfair
Ridiculously
Long
Beneath
Freaking
Men
Designer
Lashes
Like
Bars
Leaned
World
Hunger
Crossed

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But have you ever seen one?....They shook their heads. Not Physically, no. But if you look at this passage - Man, she liked that Bible. I'd read it and could definitely understand it's appeal, but I didn't have time for this.
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When life hands you lemons say, Lemons? What else have you got? - bumper sticker
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That boy needs a hobby. Stalking is a hobby. So is serial killing.
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Drink coffee! Do stupid things faster and with more energy!
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Let me express how much I don't care on a scale of one to bite me, the former detective said.
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I sort of got off on making bad guys sweat. Which was not unlike my love of making good guys sweat, just by very different means.
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I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer. —T-SHIRT
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Insanity does NOT run in my family. It strolls through, takes it's time, and gets to know everyone personally - T-Shirt
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His gaze slid over me like a veil of fire. He could ignite my deepest desires with a single glance. I decided right then and there no more reading romance novels by candelight.
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But we'd never really seen eye to eye. Mostly 'cause he was much taller than I was.
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I chose the road less traveled. Now I'm lost.
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Man, I want to be someone's forbidden fruit. Well, you are pretty fruity.
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Do not disturb. Already there.
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I had yet to be a mother, but I would have thought it difficult to forget something it took thirty-seven hours of excruciating pain to push out from between my legs ~Charley Davidson
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She still wasn't convinced. So, if you were a guy, would you be into me? Hon, if I were a guy, I'd be gay. Yeah, me, too.
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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.
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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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Don't judge me because I'm quiet. No one plans a murder out loud.
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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?
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