I let out a laugh that sounded more like the yip of a startled poodle. "Superp-powers? I wish. My powers aren't winning me a slot on the Cartoon Network anytime soon... except as a comic relief. Ghost Whisperer Junior. Or Ghost Screamer, more like it. Tune in, every week, as Chloe Saunders runs screaming from yet another ghost looking for her help." Okay, superpower might be pushing it.

Reviews are great. I can read negative reviews and say, You know that point they made... they were dead on.

I'd been staring at the search term for at least five minutes. One word. Necromancer.

Sometimes humans hit on a moment of profundity more complete than their dim minds could comprehend, and they took that nugget of truth and dumped it in the refuse for the bards and the poets to find, and mangle into yodeling paeans of love.

I envied it; not the idea of having so much money that you could throw it away, but the thought of growing up in a world where someone cared so much about your happiness and so little about what you accomplished in life.

Well, either you have a compartment under this floor, containing a living person, or the property is infested by giant moles

I've spent the last decade learning to stand firm and face my problems… or at least batter them until they're unrecognizable.