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Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set

The Sookie Stackhouse series is a mix of mystery, romance, and supernatural elements. The books follow Sookie, a telepathic waitress, as she navigates her life in Bon Temps, dealing with supernatural creatures and human relationships. The series is known for its engaging plot and well-developed characters, blending elements of fantasy with contemporary romance. more

Author

Charlaine Harris
Charlaine Harris

Charlaine Harris is an American author known for her suspense and fantasy novels. She is best known for her 'Sookie Stackhouse' series, which was adapted into the television series 'True Blood'. Born on November 25, 1951, Harris has enjoyed a successful writing career, with her works being appreciated for their unique narrative style and intricate character development. more

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“That might work," I said. "I'm good at faking it." This led to a couple moments of uncomfortable silence from both of us. "You didn't mean... ?" Morelli asked. "No. Of course not." "Never?" "Maybe once." His eyes narrowed. "Once?" "It's all that comes to mind. It was the time we were late for your Uncle Spud's birthday party." "I remember that. That was great. You're telling me you faked it?" "We were late! I couldn't concentrate. It seemed like the best way to go.”

“Men!" "At least we don't fake it." "Listen, it was your uncle. And we were late, remember? So I made the sacrifice and got us there in time for dessert. You should be thanking me." Morelli's mouth was open slightly and his face was registering a mixture of astonished disbelief and wounded, pissed-off male pride. Okay, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice at the time, and I knew he shouldn't be thanking me, but give me a break here... this wasn't famine in Ethiopia”

“Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?" I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?" "Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway." "There's all kinds of love," I said. Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy." "That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.”

“I am writing this book because we're all going to die - In the loneliness of my own life, my father dead, my brother dead, my mother faraway, my sister and my wife far away, nothing here but my own tragic hands that once were guarded by a world, a sweet attention, that now are left to guide and disappear their own way into the common dark of all our deaths, sleeping in me raw bed, alone and stupid: with just this one pride and consolation: my broke heart in the general despair and opened up inwards to the Lord, I made a supplication in this dream”