My Westley Will Come For Me.

My Westley Will Come For Me.

The Boys. The Village Boys. The Beef-witted Featherbrained Rattleskulled Clodpated Dimdomed Noodle-noggined Sapheaded Lunk-knobbed Boys. How Could Anybody Accuse Her Of Stealing Them? Why Would Anybody Want Them Anyway?

Is This A Kissing Book?

It’s An Accepted Fact That All Writers Are Crazy, Even The Normal Ones Are Weird.

Life Isn't Fair. It's Just Fairer Than Death, That's All.