It Doesn't Matter. Take Eddie's Blood. Take

Kill Me, Doug. Just Kill Me Now. Put Me Out Of My Misery.” “christ, Kincaid, What Did You Say To Him?” Murmured Doug. “well,” I Told Doug, “i Ripped On His Fans And On How Long It Takes For His Books To Come Out.” Doug Stared At Me, His Expectations Exceeded. “then I Said—not Knowing Who He Was—that I’d Be Seth Mortensen’s Love Slave In Exchange For Advanced Copies Of His Books.

I've Lost Someone, Too; Someone I Loved. I Know How You Feel." - Does It Get Easier? "yes. But You'll Never Be The Same Again.

When Love And Jealousy Collide On The Slopes, Winter Break Turns Deadly

He Exhaled Loudly And Raked A Hand Through The Sable Brown Hair He Always Kept Stylishly Messy. "look, Rose. You Don’t Have To Keep Up With The Hard-to-get Thing. You’ve Already Got Me.

Since When Do We Even Play Games?” “since When Don’t We Play Games? Games Of Life, Games Of Death. Games Of Love, Of Hope, Of Chance, Of Despair, And Of All The Myriad Wonders In Between.” I Rolled My Eyes At The Newcomer. “hello, Carter.