Here's the bottom line; writers write. Sometimes words flow easily. Sometimes it's like sloughing through mud. Either way a professional writer keeps writing.

Life isn't a book. There's no guarantee of a happy ending.

How will it ever be bearable, Priestess?” His voice was rough. He sounded completely broken. “You’ll see her again. She’s with Nyx now. She’ll either wait for you in the Goddess’s meadow, or she’ll be reborn and her soul will find you again during this lifetime. You can bear it because you know that spirit never really ends-we never really end.

I've married a friggin horse. And he bites.

Oh, God, Shannon. You're blowing my mind." Clint's morning voice was rich with passion. I wanted to correct him and explain that it wasn't his mind I was blowing, but my mother had taught me it was impolite to speak when one's mouth was full.

No, Zoey." Heat sounded pissed. It's not okay here. Not for you." Well, maybe that's 'cause I'm not dead. Yet.

I am not a bat. ~Rephaim