“No, sir. I won’t complain. Except when I move it sharp and sudden, my arm is real numb. It’s the rest of me that’s in misery.” “Where?” “My backside and my privates. I’m stuck so full of prickers, it makes me smart just to think on it.”

“When I started to my roost, Jake grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. “Sleep with me,” he whispered in my ear.I jerked away, ready to launch into a tirade for him playing on my emotions to put the moves on me when the tormented expression on his face stopped me cold.He stared pleadingly into my eyes. “I’m still so fucking scared, Angel. I need someone just to hold tonight so I won’t be alone.”

“It is the most fun I’m ever going to have. I love to write. I love it. I mean, there’s nothing in the world I like better, and that includes sex, probably because I’m so very bad at it. It’s the greatest peace when I’m in a scene, and it’s just me and the character, that’s it, that’s where I want to live my life.”

“Just because I flap my arms, that doesn’t make me a bird. No, I’m a bird because I believe myself to be. That’s the power of faith.”

“Are you cold?” he asks, turning toward me to run the backs of his fingers up and down my upper arm, as if testing the temperature of my skin. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. The jacket is warm and heavy and smells just like Nash, like whatever cologne or soap he uses. I figure it must be called delicious, maybe by Armani or some other fancy designer. It almost makes my mouth water. “Is that better?” He wraps his arm around me, too, as if to ensure I won’t be cold. Of course, I won’t complain. Even if I was sweating, I wouldn’t complain.“That’s much better, thank you.”

“It’s my job really, to help you, my reader, in accepting things as real that aren’t. Most books try to get you to accept things that, at the very least, could be real – and that’s difficult enough, goodness knows – but here, in this book, nothing seems to be even trying to be real. Except, I would say, me. I’m here, I’m real. And to be honest, I’ve never been here before. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what I’m doing. In some ways, I’m afraid this is the most real story I’ve ever written.”