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
I attributed the incidence to temporary insanity, and in my own defense, I'd like to say I haven't run over anyone since.
Suppose I lay down on the pavement and you run over me a few times with my own car...just for old times.
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.
You can run, but you can't hide, Cupcake." Morelli said. "I'll find you." "You are such a cop." "Tell me about it.
You ever get any death threats? How about ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends? You run over anyone recently?” ~ Morelli
My body is not designed to run. My body was designed to sit in an expensive care and drive.
I paused for a light at Hamilton and TWlfth and noticed the Nissan was running rough at idle. Two blocks later it backfired and stalled. I coaxed it into the center of the city. Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! A Trans Am pulled up next to me at a light. The Trans Am was filled with high school kids. One of them stuck his head out of the passenger-side window. "Hey lady," he said. "Sounds like you got a fartmobile." I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead. (Three to get Deadly)
And then it gets so hot that they keep the supermarkets too cold. Hot, cold. Hot, cold. It gives me the runs." Mr. Landowsky
Any intelligent woman would have made a dignified retreat, but this was New Jersey, where dignity always runs a poor second to the pleasure of getting in someone's face.
You're not looking for a partner," Ranger said. "You're looking for an enforcer. You hate to run. You must be worried about getting into that black dress. What did you eat just now? Piece of cake? Candy bar?" "Everything," I said. "I just ate everything.
I wasn't always a writer. When I went to college and majored in fine arts, I was a painter. Then I was a stay-at-home mom.
I actually really suck at naming books, so lots of years ago, readers were sending in their ideas for titles, and what we realized is that they were smarter than us. So we thought, Hey, go for it. So now we have a contest every year.
As Stephanie and Lula were going after the bad guys, Lula was making preparations from the trunk of her Firebird. Stephanie looked inside and stopped breathing for a beat. "That's a rocket launcher!" "Yep," Lula said. "It's a big boy. I got it at a yard sale in the projects.
Bullets are creepy." Stephenie