Barbara Richardson

“Don't ask. We're all but done for in any case, taking that Fiona couldn't hit a cow's arse with a banjo, and Paddy and Maureen both cheat like tinkers at a fair."

"What are you talking about? Why would anybody hit a cow with a banjo?

He only smiled. "The point is, Fiona couldn't so we'll be done soon enough.”
― J.D. Robb, Thankless in Death

“Eve didn't get it, just didn't get it. Who the hell decided everyone was supposed to go mad with romance and gift buying on some random day in February? Hadn't everybody just gone mad with good cheer and gift buying in December? ....... When would it end?”
― J.D. Robb, Echoes in Death

“My office . . .” Eve checked her wrist unit, calculated time. “Ten-thirty, sharp.” She would finish with Feeney, zip down to Lewis’s hearing, and back to Central. “You get what I’ve got to give, before any scheduled press conference, in a one-on-one.” “And for this, I have to kill who?” “We won’t take it quite that far. I want a story planted . . . leaked, let’s say. From an unnamed police source. You scare easy, Nadine?” “Hey, I dated a dentist. Nothing scares me.” “Well, you’re going to want to cover your pretty ass anyway. The leak’s going to involve Max Ricker.” “Jesus Christ, Dallas. Let’s get married. What have you got on him? Is it confirmed? What’s that I smell? Hey, I think it’s an Emmy, or no, no, it’s a Pulitzer.” “Slow down. Ten-thirty, sharp, Nadine. And if I hear anything about this before then, deal’s off, and I fry your ass.” “My pretty ass,” Nadine reminded her. “I’ll be there.”
― J.D. Robb, Judgment in Death

“But, Christ on a tricycle, Roarke, this is going to be a pain in my ass.”
― J.D. Robb, Leverage in Death