I'm not a role model. I'm an aberation. A statistical anomoly. Following in my footsteps is about the dumbest thing you could ever do.

Are you hurt?" "Absolutely," I said. "Especially in my everywhere.

Good lord woman. If i had tits like yours I'd own half the world by now.

You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while.

I’d heard you were dead.” "I heard you wear a red lace corset,” I said matter-of-factly. “But I don’t believe every bit of nonsense that gets rumored about.

Speculative fiction is where my heart lies. It's what I read growing up, and it's what I read as an adult.

If I seem to wander, if I seem to stray, remember that true stories seldom take the straightest way