I’m on the benevolent side of antisocial. I don’t mind people, but I’d prefer not to have a lot of them around.

Well, duh. He was six feet, six inches tall and built like a brick shithouse.

The Old Language really was beautiful, Blay thought. Staring at the symbols, for one brief, ridiculous moment he imagined his own name across Qhuinn's shoulders, carved into that smooth skin in the manner of the mating ritual. Never going to happen. They were destined to be best friends...which, compared to strangers, was something huge. Compared to lovers? It was the cold side of a locked door.

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.

She was seriously staring. Which was what you did when you got a gander at a man who is hung like a Louisville Slugger.

There was a heavy, dark pause of vast significance. Which Jim broke by flashing his hands and belting out, “Booga-wooga!” At least Eddie laughed. Adrian flipped Jim the bird and headed to the fridge for another beer.

I feel like I am wlaking down into a porn movie" V mutteres as they took the steps with care. "Wouldn't that require more black candles for you", Zsadist cracked.