Mercy," he mumbled. "What the hell did you do to my French Roast?
Patricia BriggsStichwörter: coffee mercy-thompson moon-called
Drink it,” I told her. “It’s good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don’t drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn’t be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. It should taste sort of like bitter syrup.”
She gave me a smile smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it down in one gulp. “Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, “I make the coffee.
Stichwörter: mercy-thompson moon-called
My foster mother always laughed and said it was his reputation for knowing everything that allowed for him to appear infallible: all he had to do was walk through the room and see who looked guiltiest when they saw him. Maybe she was right, but I tried looking innocent the next time, and it didn't work.
Patricia BriggsStichwörter: mercy-thompson bran moon-called
Honey, ... When a wolf watches a lamb, he's not thinking about the lamb's mommy.
Patricia BriggsStichwörter: moon-called
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