Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum, #2)

by Janet Evanovich

sometimes bits and pieces of seemingly benign information turned out to be useful.

“Nothing uglier than a fat old white woman.”

Some people learn from books, some listen to the advice of others, some learn from mistakes. I fit into the last category.

“Let me guess … you’re on the rag, right?” Good thing I didn’t have my gun with me, because I might have shot him.

“I almost never lie.” Only when it’s absolutely necessary. And on those occasions when the truth doesn’t seem appropriate.

She looked like Pooh when he was stuck in the rabbit hole.

What did a kiss on the forehead mean, anyway? Nothing, I told myself. It didn’t mean anything at all. It meant that sometimes Morelli could be a nice guy. Okay, so why was I smiling like an idiot? Because I was deprived. My love life was nonexistent.

There was an air of satisfaction to the house at the end of the day. Maybe the day hadn’t gone exactly right, but the day had been lived and the house had been there for its family.

“I hear he’s a good cop.” “A good cop is different from a good person.”

“Women interested in getting married to a nice man do not wear shoes like that. Women who like other women wear shoes like that. You don’t have any funny ideas about women, do you?”

He worked my shoulders with both hands. “You need to relax.” “If I relax any more I’ll melt and slide off the seat.”