If He Must Be Alone, He Would

The Morning Air Was Dark With The Smoke Of Burning Gods.

Love Is Poison. A Sweet Poison, Yes, But It Will Kill You All The Same.

One Of The Things I Love, And I'm A Voracious Reader As Well As A Writer, Is Books That Surprise Me, That Are Not Predictable.

I Have Always Regarded Historical Fiction And Fantasy As Sisters Under The Skin, Two Genres Separated At Birth.

Black Moleskin Gloves Covered His Hands; The Right Because It Was Burned, The Left Because A Man Felt Half A Fool Wearing Only One Glove.