I don't read reviews or take any feedback from anyone. Here's the thing: The stories don't even care what I think about them. They don't listen to anybody! My job is simply to describe what I'm shown in my head so that folks who read the books get an idea of what I'm seeing. As long as that happens, I'm doing my job as best I can.

Besides, you think I'm not used to hurting? For me, it's home sweet home, my brother.

Qhuinn's eyes shifted away from his buddy--and just happened to measure the distance down to the stone patio below. Hmm . . . doing a swan dive onto all that slate might just get the images of those two out of his head... of course, it would also turn his brain into scrambled eggs, but really, was that such a bad thing?

You don't know this yet. But you are Mine - Wrath

You are the male I might have been. You are the potential I had and lost. You are the honor and the strength and the kindness she needs. You'll take care of her. I want you to take care of her.

Indeed, Xcor stayed away for the wrong reason, the bad reason, an unacceptable reason—in spite of all his training, he found himself choosing Throe’s life over ambition: His anger had taken him in one direction, but his regret had led him in another. And the latter one was what won out.

Do you think I haven't noticed? You can't wait to be free of me. I drink and then you bolt up, as if you've had to force yourself to endure my presence." She'd started to sob then. "I've always tried to be clean when I come to you. I spend hours in the tub, washing myself. But I cannot find the dirt that you see." -Marissa to Wrath