Sahara Randall

“I couldn't think of anything helpful to say, so I resorted to humor, my shield of last resort. 'Just please tell me they don't have a dog and a picket fence.'

He smiled. 'No fence, but a dog, two dogs.'

'What kind of dogs?' I asked.

He smiled and glanced at me, wanting to see my reaction. 'Maltese. Their names are Peeka and Boo.'

'Oh, shit, Edward, you're joking me.'

'Donna wants the dogs included in the engagement pictures.'

I stared at him, and the look on my face seemed to amuse him. He laughed. 'I'm glad you're here, Anita, because I don't know a single other person who I'd have admitted this to.”
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Obsidian Butterfly

“He balled his hand into a fist. "You are such a bitch." "Woof, woof," I said.”
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Burnt Offerings

“Lately, when I didn't have room to bitch, I didn't. Maturity, at last.”
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Skin Trade

“He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute.
- Anita Blake about Jean-Claude”
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Burnt Offerings