I stared at Jean-Claude and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just him. It was love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to neither of us would change the other, even if we could. I love Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else.

I am a very linear thinker, so I write beginning to end. I write hundreds of pages per book that never make it into print

What's your name?" Donald." Hi, Donald, missed you at the wienie roast.

I knew what was like to finally be seduced by the thing you hunted. Mine just happened to be a more traditional seduction. Okay, at least I was still among the living.

Here's the secret to finishing that first book. Don't rewrite as you go.

Nothing is certain, ma petite, not even death." - Jean-Claude

Sometimes good and evil aren't so much opposites as two sides of a coin. You toss it one way and it looks good, another way and it's evil, sometimes it just depends on which end of the gun you're on.