Three to Get Deadly (Stephanie Plum, #3)

by Janet Evanovich

Good thing the fashion police didn’t do too many tours of Trenton.

He’d taken my virginity when I was sixteen, and at eighteen I’d tried to run him down with my father’s Buick. Those two incidents pretty much reflected the tone of our ongoing relationship.

He supposedly lived in the ’hood among his Cuban relatives, and he knew things I’d never, ever know.

You need to be a blonde. I’m telling you honey, blonde is where it’s at.”

I thought about doing something athletic, like going for a run, but when I looked out the living room window it was still January, so I trashed the physical fitness idea.

“Honey, you don’t have any alibi at all. The only reason I didn’t book you for murder is I’m too tired to fill out the paperwork.”

I didn’t want to burst his fantasy bubble, but the only time Ranger wouldn’t look out of place would be standing in a lineup between Rambo and Batman.

I had two puddings and coffee, choosing to keep my pancreas at peak performance. Use it or lose it is my philosophy.

I wasn’t a master at long division, but I could accessorize with the best of them.

This was a harpoon to the brain on a day when there was already impaired activity.

I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead.