Okay, If This Is What Falling In

I Do 30 To 40 Books A Year, So It's A Fair Amount Of Reading. Back And Forth Between Nonfiction And Fiction. I Usually Have Three Or Four Things That Are Open On My Desk, On My Bed, On Audiobook In The Car.

No One Looks Like Fang-dark And Still And Dangerous, Like He's Daring You To Set Him Off. But I'd Seen Him Rocking Angel When She'd Hurt Herself; I'd Seen Him Smile In His Sleep; I'd Seen The Deep, Darkl Ight In His Eyes As He Leaned Over Me... ~max; "max"; Page 24

I Mean,he Decided We'd Be Better Apart,you Know?it Wasn't A Joint Decision.like, If Your Gonna Make A Decision About Me And My Life Without Consulting Me,i'd Better Be Dying And Unconscious And You'd Better Be Following Carefully Written Instructions.

Fang Swerved Closer To Me, Big And Supremely Graceful, Like A Black Panther With Wings. Oh, God. I'm So Stupid. Forget I Just Said That. "he Needs A Band-aid," I Said. A Look Passed Between Me And Fang, Full Of Suppressed Humor, Relief, Understanding,love — Forget I Said That Too. I Don't Know What's Wrong With Me.

I Don't Think Of Myself As A Writer.