Let's Save Tomorrow's Troubles For Tomorrow.

When I Put Magic Into A Book - Whether It's A Wizard Or A Crusty Old Werewolf - I'm Asking A Reader To Swallow A Huge Leap That Is Counter To Everything He Or She Knows. An Extra Big Helping Of Reality Makes That Leap Go Down A Lot Easier.

We’d Spent Years As Adversaries, Two Predators Sharing Territory And A Certain, Unwelcome Attraction. Somehow, During All Those Years I Spent Outwardly Acquiescing To His Demands While Making Sure I Held My Own, I’d Won His Respect. I’d Had Werewolves Love Me And Hate Me, But I’d Never Had One Respect Me Before. Not Even Samuel. Adam Respected Me Enough To Act On My Suspicions. It Meant A Lot.

We Are None Of Us Perfect, And...we Learn To Take These Imperfections And Make Them Only A Small Part Of Who We Are

Do You Have Any Idea How Much I Love You?” He Asked. ”enough To Accept My Apologies?” I Suggested In A Small Voice. ”heck No,” He Said, And Pushed Off From The Wall, Stalking Forward. When He Reached Me, He Put His Hands Up And Touched The Sides Of My Neck With The Tips Of His Fingers – As If I Were Something Fragile. ”no Apologies From You,” He Told Me, His Voice Soft Enough To Melt My Knees And Most Of My Other Parts.

Being A Martyr Is Highly Overrated.