Eric turned to me, kissed me on the lips very lightly, and looked at my face for a long moment. “He’ll spare you,” Eric said, and I understood he wasn’t really talking to me but to himself. “You’re too unique to waste.” And then he opened the door.

The average woman would not be pondering how fast her date could kill her, but I’ll never be an average woman.

If this were the fifties, she’d be checking Sam’s collars for lipstick stains. (Did people do that anymore? Why did women kiss collars, anyway? Besides, Sam almost always wore T-shirts.)

How is Eric?' 'Very tightly wound. Plus, a lot of stuff happened that he'll tell you about.' 'Thanks for the warning. I'll go to the house now. You're my favorite breather.' 'Oh. Well ... great.' She hung up.

Not one man in a million would have allowed me the time without speaking. I opened my mind, let my gaurd down completely, relaxed. His silence washed over me. I stood, closed my eyes, breathed out the relief that was too profound for words.

Finally, I drew in a long breath. It was noisy and painful and just heaven.

The Sookie Stackhouse novels were selling well before the TV show, but the TV show led to a lot more exposure and readers. And a lot went on to read my other work. It was a wonderful thing for my bank account.