“Have you got any spells maybe?” Thankful eyed the mantle full of skulls and glass balls.
I feel sorry that people like you exist
“William, I’m so ashamed of myself—truly—you must forgive me. I’m just so annoyed over Miss Peckham.” “Why? Because you need to be the center of the universe at all times? Come to your senses,” William said as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from under the tablecloth and filled a large glass to the rim….
“And what do you believe is progress, Miss Crenshaw?” Miss Peckham asked.
The ladies of Fort Grant get their feathers ruffled.
All the while, as I gaze at the artfully photographed author posing as if in mid-thought, I’m aware of a small jealousy.
What an addict says to his son.
Why did Thankful make a point of telling him of her engagement? They had hardly spoken in the months since William left her at the post.
We tend to see men as doing and women as feeling, yet in the study sited above even when names were switched and men were feeling and women doing, readers felt they related to whomever was named Jack, not Jill.
The story ranges from love and romance to questions of faith and morality.
Fahy kissed her, a little impatiently. “Don’t worry, miss.”
I want a prologue and an epilogue. I want growth and maturity, death and rebirth. In writing a series, especially an epic family saga, I’ve lived so many lives in the last ten years. When the series is over (though ideas float around about a new direction in writing) I will be satisfied that I’ve lived life well. Before writing a series I couldn’t honestly say that.