Darynda Jones is the American author of the Charley Davidson series of paranormal romantic thrillers and a young adult series called The Darklight Trilogy. She lives in New Mexico.
I love children, but I don't think I can eat a whole one. - Bumper sticker
If I couldn't be a good example, I'd just have to be a horrible warning.
There comes a moment when you know you just aren't going to do anything esle productive for the rest of the day. -T-Shirt
Oh, my god!” I said to Reyes, my eyes radiating accusations at him. “She took your picture? Just what kind of game are you playing? You’re under arrest, mister. ” His mouth tilted and a dimple emerged on one cheek as I took his wrist and threw him against a wall. Or, well, urged him toward it. I held him against the cool wood with one hand and frisked him with the other.
We really should get some X-rays,” the EMT said. “You just want to fondle my extraneous body parts,” I said to the EMT.
Oh, my god!" I said, throwing my hands over my eyes and hurtling my body against the counter. "What?" "You're naked. " "I'm not naked. " "I'm blind. " "You're not blind. I'm wearing pants. " "Oh. " That was embarrassing.
Come here often?' I asked instead, humoring no one but myself. So it was totally worth it.
This guy in high school tried to run me over with his dad’s SUV. Bad shoved the vehicle through a store window. ” The memory brought a smile to my face.
We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, "I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry.
Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.
Your existence gives me a headache. Go stand over there.
He had given me so much information, I wanted some time to absorb it all, but I didn't want to leave him. Not like this. Not ever, as long as I lived. Or until I had to get back on the case. Whichever came first.
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.
I know," he said in almost bored contemplation. "My manners suck. I like to chalk it up to a dissatisfying childhood. " "I'd chalk it up to that narcissistic personality disorder laces with a smidgen of schizophrenia. Your mother would be proud.
Reyes, what happened?” He‘d been busy nibbling his way to my collarbone, his hot mouth evoking seismic activity at each point of contact. I really hated to interrupt, but … “Reyes, are you listening to me?” He raised his head, a sensual grin playing at the corners of his mouth, and said, “I‘m listening. ” “To what? The sound of blood rushing to your nether regions?” “No,” he said with a husky chuckle that made me tingle everywhere. “To your heartbeat.
In three hundred feet, turn right," Darth Vader said. The Darth Vader. I felt like we were friends now. Like I could tell him anything.
I stop fighting my inner demons. We're on the same side now. T-shirt
Ambulances were cool. “You just want to fondle my extraneous body parts,” I said to the EMT as I picked up a silver gadget that looked disturbingly like an alien orifice probe, broke it, then promptly put it back, hoping it wouldn’t leave someone’s life hanging in the balance because the EMT couldn’t alien-probe his orifices.
After searching for a space, I parked behind the tattoo parlor in front of a sign that said NO PARKING. Since it didn't specify to whom it was referring, I figured it couldn't possibly be talking to me.
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.