Kathy Bryson

“That’s not Eire. Everyone always thinks that, but we’re not shamrocks and wee men. You should know the difference.”

“I am always a perfect gentleman. If you ever want me to not be a perfect gentlemen, you’ll have to ask and not be crying when you do.”

“That was one tiny trailer when both girls wanted to watch TV or use the computer or the bathroom at the same time.”

“Don’t know what I’m talking about? Don’t know what I’m talking about!” My shout hit notes that normally only Wagnerian sopranos can reach. “You think you’re a freaking leprechaun, but I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“That’s the problem! She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me like she’s hypnotized, like she thinks I’m a god, but then she runs off squeaking if I try to talk to her.”“I don’t squeak,” I protested. “Maybe she’s not looking at you like you’re a god. Maybe she thinks you’re more of a freak,” Fergus mused.“I’m not a freak.” Murphy jerked his head as if dodging a fly or tossing his hair. “It’s definitely a ‘you’re a god’ look. She practically drools.”

“You can’t have it both ways. Either I’m Irish and can talk, or I’m a man and I can’t.”

“Ours was not one of those nice, quaintly old-fashioned mobile homes that senior citizens putter around in. We lived in the beat-up tin can of clichéd poverty.”

“I realized that I sat in an empty bar in filthy, wet clothes with a drippy nose, probably red-rimmed eyes, and the most I could say I’d accomplished was that I was now congested. Oh, and one of the handsomest, nicest men I’d ever met cradled my face in warm, caressing hands with soft, sympathy in his brown eyes.”

“I heard ‘naked’ and ‘full of hot air.’ I try not to let that be my first impression of anyone.”

“My inner bitch could handle this peon without even breaking a sweat.”

“It was a sign of how worried and confused I was that I wasn’t completely distracted by the sight of his powerful thighs flexed in front of me.”

“Mr. Jennings is the one who trapped the fairies here to begin with. If they’re back and wandering around, if they’re loose, then, well, it’s not good.”

“I love the man,” Megan said as she took a seat, “but honestly he needs to learn when not to agree with me.”

“The older lady smiled a friendly welcome that rivaled her preserves for sweet appeal. She could have been someone’s grandmother complete with close-cropped white hair if she wasn’t wearing a worn Grateful Dead T-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal. The 1987 Summer Tour.”

“Jinx, I know you just lost your grandfather, but you straighten out your tone right now or I will smack you one!”

“Take some advice from an old farmer. You’re in business now. Take the money. You’d be amazed at how many don’t want to pay.”

“How would we get corporate sponsorship if we were just a bunch of thugs?”

“It was easy to imagine he’d just rolled out of bed and then it was easy to imagine him in bed and I wasn’t going there.”

“You are never to drive like that,” I told them. “Even if you are ever wealthy enough to own a Jaguar.”

“I’m an ass,” the voice on the phone said. “A complete and total ass.”