Put on your big girl pants and deal.

Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward

Praying's not going to help. Too late for that, Jane...I gave you a chance to have it on your terms. Now we'll do this on mine

But Tudor mansions on manicured grounds didn't look right with their grand front doors wide open to the night. It was like a debutante flashing her bra thanks to a wardrobe malfunction.

As the vampire trailed a fingertip along the girl’s collarbone, she appeared to fall into a trance. It was not mind games on Zypher’s part. Females of both races couldn’t help themselves around him.

you told me I could beat him. You promised.

Surely it wasn't possible that Vin diPietro was the first assignment. "Hello?" DiPietro waved. "You in there?" Nah, Jim thought. Can't be. That would be above and beyond any call of duty. Over the guy's shoulder, the commercial that was on the TV suddenly showed a price of $49.99-no, $29.99, with a little red arrow that ... considering where Vin was standing, poined right at his head. "Sh*t, no" Jim muttered. This was the guy? On the Tv screen, some woman in a pink bathrobe smiled up at the camera and mouthed, Yes, it is!