The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the world series?" "The New York Yankees," Butch replied.

Times have changed and so have heroes and heroines, but the core of what makes readers happy has remained the same: Does the material touch you, resonant with you, stick with you? Do you feel yourself in the pages, see yourself walking in another person's shoes, hear the voices as they speak? Are you in love with the way they are in love?

Butch put his hand on his roommate's nape and murmured, "I'll do the saving until you get your head back, how about that? I'll keep you safe.

Too bad the freedom seemed like a prison. As his boots hit the mosaic floor at the bottom of the stairs, John Mellencamp's old-school, bic-lighter anthem echoed in his head-and though he'd always like the song okay, he'd never truly understood what it meant. Kind of wished that were still the case. Life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone.

John Matthew was her well of soul, as the symphaths called it,or her pyrocant, to the vampires. Her essential weakness.

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?

I love you. You are my heart beating outside of my chest.