After A Perfect Storm came out, I heard from a young reader, who had suffered a similar background as Arizona, that I had helped her to find peace. That was the most amazing thing in the world to me.

Manners, boy. I'll beat them into you if I have to.

I despise stereotypes. A gay man can be a macho athlete, or he can be an interior designer or any career in between.

Trace cursed. He actually wanted to hit something, but a tree would break his knuckles, he didn't want to put another dent in the truck, and Dare would hit back.

After A Perfect Storm came out, I heard from a young reader, who had suffered a similar background as Arizona, that I had helped her to find peace. That was the most amazing thing in the world to me.

As he gave a sleepy, growling groan, that hand disappeared under the sheet. Arizona's lips parted, and her heartbeat tripped up. She cleared her throat. "Spencer?" Freezing, without moving any other body part, he opened his eyes and met her gaze. She frowned at him. He didn't look super-startled, and he said nothing. He just started at her. With his hand still under there. "Yeah..." Semi-satisfied with his frozen reaction, she nodded at his lap. "You weren't going for a little tug, were you? Because as your spectator, I'd just as soon not see it." -Arizona and Spencer

But love was strange. It distorted your perspective and played havoc with your logic.