“I have no regrets in my life. I think that everything happens to you for a reason. The hard times that you go through build character, making you a much stronger person.”

“Emma smacks the back of my head. “It’s just boobs. Even I have a pair. No reason to stare so hard. Put your eyes back in your head.” She grabs my hand, leading me toward the bar . . . and positions me with my back to the stage.“But you’ve never shown me yours. Take your shirt off, and I’ll stare at yours instead.” “You did not just say that.”“Yeah, I think I did.”“Men.” She rolls her eyes.”

“I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”

“Would I lie to you?”“There was that time you told me the mud pies would give me flying powers if I ate them.”“Not my fault. I really thought they would.”

“A rustle of wings and a hawk feather drifts down to me. Snatching it from the air, I look up into the trees, but nothing’s there. So I tuck the feather into my hair.“What are you doing?”My stomach leaps into my throat, and I jump up, stumbling backward, and fall on my butt in the middle of the path. In the tree above me, a teenage boy perches on a branch. He’s dressed in traditional deerskin breeches, a talon necklace around his neck, but rather than moccasins, his feet are bare. He is shirtless, and lean muscles cord his body. His intense eyes capture my attention. They’re like golden fathomless pools. I could get lost in them.“Don’t your feet get hurt, walking barefoot on the forest floor?” I ask.“I rarely walk.” He drops down in front of me. His face is so close that I take a step back and thump into a tree. He leans toward me and sniffs. “You smell different. What are you?”“I’m a girl.” I can’t take my gaze from his.“No, humans stink. You smell…” He sniffs my hair and grins. “You smell good.”“Is there a reason that you’re invading my space? I have somewhere to be.” My voice cracks.He tugs one of my braids and winks at me. My pulse quickens, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes study me with intensity, and he leans closer. Is he going to kiss me?”

“The First Book: Go ahead, it won't bite. Well... maybe a little. More a nip, like. A tingle. It's pleasurable, really. You see, it keeps on opening. You may fall in. Sure, it's hard to get started; remember learning to use knife and fork? Dig in: you'll never reach bottom. It's not like it's the end of the world -- just the world as you think you know it.”

“If you don't like my book, write your own. If you don't think you can write a novel, that ought to tell you something. If you think you can, do. No excuses. If you still don't like my novel, find a book you do like. Life is too short to be miserable. If you do like my novels, I commend your good taste.”