The Spellman Files

I have a weakness for tough guys who read.

My father insisted that the boys in my life were directly responsible for my juvenile-delinquent tendencies. My mother, more accurately, assumed that I was the bad influence.

What's her name?" "None of your business." "That can't possibly be her name.

I liked finding dirt on people. It made all my trespasses seem trivial.

I don't mind losing. Losing is like breathing to me.

You're a terrible cook, Daniel." "I know," he replied, "But it's the effort that counts." "I hope that's not the slogan for your dental practice.

I knew immediately that this was not going to work out. Hunter is the kind of guy who dates women who wear high heels and a cocktail dress on a first date. I can't even walk in heels, and I generally believe that someone has to earn the right to see my legs.

She suspects her husband, Jake, might be gay." "Did you suggest she ask him?" Mom laughed. "Of course not. Business is slow.

No one is going to abduct me, Rae." "That's what all abductees say.

While he bore no real resemblance to anyone in my family, his features were a collection of my mother's and father's best attributes, with a few of Gregory Peck's thrown in.

She asked how I liked my tea and I told her with cream and sugar (but really, I like my tea to be coffee),

David Spellman was born perfect. Eight pounds even, with a full head of hair and unblemished skin, he cried for a brief moment right after his birth (to let the doctor know he was breathing), then stopped abruptly, probably out of politeness.

We provide proof of a question for which the answer is already known.

Everyone should know what it’s like to get a C.