Even little Herley, who couldn't have been more than eight, looked like he could go six rounds with Chuck Norris without breaking a sweat.

I could hear hopefulness in her voice, but also doubt. She was waiting for me to admit the obvious: I’d forgotten. I was toast. I was boyfriend roadkill.

Eating next to a twenty-foot-long crocodile took some getting used to, but Philip was well trained. He only ate bacon, stray waterfowl, and the occasional invading monster.

That was Hera. Her Majesty, the Loose Cannon.

Mugged by my own mother.

I've always found the second book in a series is the hardest to write.

Listen, Frank Zhang has moves. He's probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces.