I do interviews and signings and readings and all of these people just hang off my every word. And then I go home and have dinner with my family and nobody lets me get a word in.

I have a cotillion event. Some yacht-club charity fundraiser thingy. Whitney is insisting, and Kit took her side.” Three wide smiles. “Oh shut up.

I work with the dead, but I am working for the living.

Ahh! Lady Pillows. So much fluffier than mine.” He took a giant whiff. “Why does everything girlie smell so delightful?” “Because we acknowledge the importance of basic hygiene. And periodically clean our bathrooms.” “Brilliant. I should write that down. After all, it takes a village.

Amazing.” Hi stripped off his shirt, wrung it out. “Score one for your honker.” “Thanks, I think.” I cocked my chin at Hi’s substantial midsection. “Nice abs.” “Yeah, I work out twice a month. No expectations. But stop hitting on me, it’s embarrassing.

God help anyone who messes with the Virals!

Whitney smacked Coop's snout while simultaneously pressing herself deeper into the couch. Coop fixed her with an unblinking ice-blue stare, gray-brown fur bristling along his spine. "Tory!" Whitney squealed. "He's going to attack!" "Maybe." I walked into the kitchen and snagged a Diet Coke from the fridge. "Try to protect your throat.