First Grave on the Right (Charley Davidson, #1)

by Darynda Jones

Never knock on death’s door. Ring the doorbell then run. He totally hates that.

Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.

Genius has its limitations. Insanity … not so much.

I felt like the girl who showed up at a formal dinner party in jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt. Probably ’cause I did that once.

I really like her as a character, but at some point she could become one of those "I'm not like other girls!" girls.

My PI techniques would never be the stuff of legend. They would never make it into criminology textbooks or university lecture halls. But I did feel that, with some focus, I could have a strong presence in chat rooms. If I couldn’t be a good example, I’d just have to be a horrible warning.

“You’re not seriously going to jeopardize this entire investigation by allowing her to go in there, are you?”

I know she's a PI, but she might do well even as a patrol person.

Before we arrived, I hadn’t particularly missed high school. When we got there, I still didn’t particularly miss it.

Truth!

When fighting clowns, always go for the juggler. —BUMPER STICKER

I may not look like much, but I’m an expert at pretending to be a ninja. —BUMPER STICKER

cleavage. Price’s gaze landed instantly on the erotic zone. Danger and Will Robinson. Distractions extraordinaire.

I love the names. Kind of want to steal it, but don't know if I can live up to them.

It had a straight blade like other swords, only much longer, and its edges were curved, with vicious-looking spikes. It reminded me of two things: a medieval torture device and his tattoo.

A scythe with spikes? Is he a grime reaper for those who go somewhere other than into the light?

Crossings from my perspective were a little like watching people disappear before my eyes. I felt them as they drifted through me. Their emotions. Their fears. Their hopes and dreams. But I had yet to feel hatred, animosity, or jealousy. Mostly, I felt an overwhelming sense of love. Every time someone crossed, my faith in humanity grew.

And then it hit me. It was the tumbling, mazelike mechanisms of a lock that opened a realm of devastating darkness. It was the key to the entrance of hell.

MaryJanice Davidson,

Oh yay!