Charlaine Harris
Charlaine Harris
Charlaine Harris Schulzis an American New York Times bestselling author who has been writing mysteries for thirty years. She was born and raised in the Mississippi River Delta area of the United States. She now lives in southern Arkansas with her husband and three children. Though her early work consisted largely of poems about ghosts and, later, teenage angst, she began writing plays when she attended Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee. She began to write books a few years later...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 November 1951
CityTunica, MS
CountryUnited States of America
The world seemed a bad and terrible place, all its denizens suspect, and I the lamb wandering through the valley of death with a bell around my neck.
The fundamentalists were equally stymied. “We were worried about Adam and Steve,” a Baptist minister said. “Should we have been more worried about Rover and Fluffy?
I’d never seen anything like it. First a trial, then a few murders, then dancing. Life goes on. Or, in this case, death continues.
As I climbed up into the high old bed, the large fly in my personal ointment did the same. Had I actually told him he could get in bed with me? Well, I decided, as I wriggled down under the soft old sheets and the blanket and the comforter, if Eric had designs on me, I was just too tired to care. "Woman?" "Hmmm?" "What's your name?" "Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse." "Thank you, Sookie." "Welcome, Eric.
I hate witches. Humans had the right idea, burning them at the stake.
Come on," I said, taking his hand. Clutching the afghan with the other hand, he trailed down the hall after me, a snow white giant in tiny red underwear.
They say there's no harm in daydreaming, but there is.
God bless the American spectator.
I am self-educated from genre books.
You never told me all this before," I said, by way of explanation. "You all have divided up America into kingdoms, is that right?
Don’t you just hate nights like that, when you think over every mistake you’ve made, every hurt you’ve received, every bit of meanness you’ve dealt out? There’s no profit in it, no point to it, and you need sleep.
I have a big hole in my heart," I said. "But it'll close over." I don't want to sound all Dr. Phil," she said. "But don't let the scab seal the pain in, okay?" That's good advice," I said. "I hope I can manage it.
The sweetest part of being a couple is sharing your life with someone else. But my life, evidently, had not been good enough to share.
Sookie, my little bullet-sucker" Eric, my big bullshitter