I have a screened in porch, and it's nice to curl up with a book outside when it's raining, especially an old battered classic like 'Pride & Prejudice & Zombies.'

Writing has always felt like a compulsion. Even at high school there’d be times when people would ask me if I wanted to go and hang out and I’d sit home and write instead.

The only consent hinge in life is that everyhin is changing. And that’s a little scary, but it means that hints can’t be bad or hard forever.

Then in June, something truly magical happened. I discovered book bloggers. I had no idea such people existed. They just read books and write about them. And I don’t mean “just.” These people take times out of their busy lives to talk about books and have contests and connect with followers and writers and other readers.

I decided to go along with it. If he tried to give me the runaround, I would bolt. I didn’t have time to waste on vague answers and evasive language. Matt and Rhys were captive, and Rhys couldn’t even sit down.

If we’re not choosing things ourselves, then someone must be choosing it for us. They’re the ones deciding our destiny.

It’s not the amount of time that makes something real. It’s what happens in that time,” he said solemnly. “Each moment is weighted against the next, and the moments I’ve spent with you have been more meaningful than almost all the ones I’ve had before it.

As a rule, I don’t enjoy being tossed into closets and having the door shut on my face, but I knew he was protecting me.

I’ve taken every writing class I’ve had available. I took classes in high school, and I took English and writing classes in community college, but I dropped out of college. I also attended a local writing workshop two years ago.

Oh, that?” Marcy scoffed. “What do you mean ‘oh that’? Half your room has been destroyed.