I had two cups of coffee, put Eric's jeans in the washer, read a romance for awhile, and studied my brand-new Word of the Day calendar, a Christmas gift from Arlene. My first word of the New Year was 'exsanguinate.' This was probably not a good omen.

I am here," Eric said. "And I am here." I was a little amused at Eric's phone answering technique. "Sookie, my little bullet-sucker," he said, sounding fond and warm. "Eric, my big bullshitter.

I was surprised to find out there was a direct line from my palm to my, my, hootchie.

Bubba made a sound of disapproval "You're not supposed to be kissing on anybody else, Miss Sookie" he said "Bill said it was okay, but I don't like it.

Hey, our hair's the same color," I said, eying us side by side in the mirror. "Sure is, girlfriend." Eric grinned at me.

Self-pity is like chocolate; as you get older, you can only afford a little bit.

It was beautiful Eric, who desired me, who was hungry for me, in a world that often let me know it could do very well without me.