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

by Darynda Jones

As I pretended to explain to my third party that sometimes there is a really bright light nearby and she should go into it, my phone rang out in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, which meant Uncle Bob was calling. I almost dropped the phone, then smiled at Taft. “My previous call must have been disconnected.” I dared not comment on the fact that it had supposedly been on vibrate mere seconds ago.

I love children, but I don’t think I can eat a whole one. —BUMPER STICKER

Amber wants your dad to get a teriyaki machine so she can sing for all the lonely barflies.” “I’m a good singer, Mom.” Only a twelve-year-old could make the word mom sound blasphemous. I leaned into Cookie. “Does she know it’s not called—?”

Well-behaved women rarely make history. —LAUREL THATCHER ULRICH

Do not disturb. Already there. —T-SHIRT

“Just because I see dead people doesn’t mean I want to be dead people.”

Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup. —BUMPER STICKER