Janet Evanovich
Janet Evanovich
Janet Evanovichis an American writer. She began her career writing short contemporary romance novels under the pen name Steffie Hall, but gained fame authoring a series of contemporary mysteries featuring Stephanie Plum, a former lingerie buyer from Trenton, New Jersey, who becomes a bounty hunter to make ends meet after losing her job. The novels in this series have been on the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon bestseller lists. Evanovich has had her last seventeen...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth22 April 1943
CitySouth River, NJ
CountryUnited States of America
Look at you! You look like Rangeman Barbie. You got a gun and everything. -Lula
Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli. "No. Were discussing." "Are you sure?" "Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?" "No." "The were not fighting.
Were really screwed up, aren't we?" "In a very large way.
There’s always tomorrow.” “Exactly,” she said, finishing off her first doughnut, selecting a second. Maybe she wouldn’t starve to death, she decided. Maybe she’d eat herself into obesity and explode. Death by doughnut.
Men!" "At least we don't fake it." "Listen, it was your uncle. And we were late, remember? So I made the sacrifice and got us there in time for dessert. You should be thanking me." Morelli's mouth was open slightly and his face was registering a mixture of astonished disbelief and wounded, pissed-off male pride. Okay, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice at the time, and I knew he shouldn't be thanking me, but give me a break here... this wasn't famine in Ethiopia
One of the men gave Butch a bunch of volts with a stun gun. The Rangeman didn’t move fast enough, and Butch grabbed the gun and threw it across the room. “Hunh,” Rangeman guy said. “Yeah,” I said. “Been there, done that.” “Are you sure he’s human?” “Maybe you could hook a chain to the FlexiCuffs on his ankles and drag him behind your car,” I said. “We tried that once, and Ranger didn’t like it,” the guy said. “You do something twice that Ranger doesn’t like, and you’re out of a job and damaged.
You deserved to get run over. And besides, I barely tapped you. The only reason you broke your leg was because you panicked and tripped over your own feet.
From the look on your face, I'd say you know him." I nodded. "Sold him a cannoli when I was in high school." Connie grunted. "Honey, half of all the women in New Jersey have sold him their cannoli
He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun. "I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you," Ranger said. "I found it in the cookie jar." "Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar." "Name one." "Rockford." Ranger grinned. "I stand corrected.
Morelli grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and kissed me. It was a great kiss, but I didn't know what the heck it meant. It seemed to me a breaking up kiss would have had less tongue.
I'd slept with Ranger! Not sexually, of course. But I'd been in his bed. And then there was the evil shower gel. "It was all because of the shower gel," I said. Morelli's eyes narrowed. "Shower gel?" I made a major effort not to sigh. "Long story. You probably don't want to hear it.
Are you telling me you think Ranger's a superhero?' Think about it. We don't know where he lives. We don't know anything about him.' Superheroes are make-believe.' Oh yeah?' Lula said. 'What about God?
It was a weird sensation. Like getting caught eavesdropping, or lying, or sitting on the toilet and having the bathroom walls suddenly drop away.
You're such a cupcake.