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Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Salt
Sleep
Lost
Great
Dip
Stared
Sleeping
Bags

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Pierce jerked his hand from Trent and pushed himself straight. “Kalamack Industries,” he said, expression twisted as he wiped his hand on his pants. “I knew your father.” “I do not freaking believe this,” I said, shifting to stand where I could see both of them. Al beamed. “Amazing who you can meet in an elevator.
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If it was up to me, I’d choose the hard path with the easy ending, not the easy path with the hard end.
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Oh for the sweet humpin' love of Tink! ~ Jenks
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I never considered I might make a career out of writing as I was going to school, so when I did turn my attentions that way, I was very ill prepared, having only what I read as a guide, and no formal training whatsoever. I credit that very ignorance with a great deal of my success.
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But I knew Nick. He was too ugly to die.
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The undead did not love, but they remembered love with a savage loyalty.
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Who’s going to keep them from wiping us out species by species? Not me. We aren’t prepared for a new demographic of magic-using humans who are sadistic, power hungry, don’t like Inderlanders, and see genocide as an acceptable form of communication.
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Maybe I could be friends with a ghost. I wouldn’t be able to kill him.
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A witch, a vampire, and a pixy walk into a bar, I thought as I led the way into the Squirrel’s End. It was early, and the sun had yet to set when the door swung shut behind Jenks, sealing us in the warm air smelling faintly of smoke. Immediately Nick yanked it open to come in behind us. And there’s the punch line.
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I told you, computers are like women. If you shout at them or ask them to do too many things at once, they shut down and you won't even get a sniff pg. 4
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All I'd have to do then was roll with the consequences of inviting dewinged, fanged fairies into Trent's backyard. God, they were savage looking. Served him right.
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And while seeing Trent in his tighty-whities would make my decade, I’d found out long ago that I couldn’t stay mad at a man wearing nothing but underwear. They looked so charmingly vulnerable.
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The cookie maker needs someone to look out for him.
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Inside Junior's it was peaceful. I can change that, I thought dryly.
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Rachel knew what she was doing. And when she didn't, she could improvise on the fly, coming up with options that left a lot of collateral damage but usually only hurt herself, not the people around her. It was one of the things he would never admit that he admired about her.
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...It's easier to find a way to make money at something you love than to learn to love a job that you can make money at.
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Maybe he thinks he can rescue me? No one is that stupid.
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Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.
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Money drives the world, but when everything falls apart to leave the underpinnings of our life bare to the scrutiny of critics and thieves, the only thing remaining, the only thing that can't be taken away, is the love you hold for the people you care about.
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