“All cynics are disappointed idealists. The more stars in the eyes, the harder the fall.”

“See! He likes you,” Natalie said triumphantly.I stared down at the scrawny scrap of fur cautiously sniffing my hand.“He doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m going to feed him.”“Now who’s being a cynic? Anyway, every bookstore should have a cat.”The cat -- assuming it was a cat and not some beige bug-eyed refugee from outer space -- slunk uneasily down the counter, and flinched at the flutter of Mystery Scene pages as a gust of warm air blew in from the street.”

“What I like about cooking is that, so long as you follow the recipe exactly, everything always turns out perfect. It’s too bad there’s no recipe for happiness. Happiness is more like pastry—which is to say that you can take pains to keep cool and not overwork the dough, but if you don’t have that certain light touch, your best efforts still fall flat.The work-around is to buy what you need. I’m talking about pastry, not happiness, although money does make things easier all around.”

“Thought of Riordan. Thought of a big hand wrapping around my shaft, sliding up and down, pumping hard...harder. The head of my cock leaked a single salty tear to slick my own hand's efforts. Yikes. Think of Bruce. Yeah. Better. Safer. Saner...”

“So you're like a ... an amateur sleuth?""God no. I'm more like the hapless guys in those film-noir flicks we used to watch. I keep getting tangled up in bizarro events.""Oh yes?” His eyes lit with enthusiasm. I was speaking his language now. “Guy Pearce in L.A. Confidential or William Hurt in Body Heat?""I was thinking more like Woody Allen in Play It Again, Sam.”

“It’s more believable that a cop would get involved in solving these murders. I mean, you’re talking about writing a series. How believable is it that this Hollywood gossip columnist is going to keep stumbling on all these murders?”

“One thing I’ve noticed about getting older, it takes twice as much work to get half the results one formerly achieved by falling out of bed.”