I step outside cautiously, alert for any sign of activity. It’s still dark, but that doesn’t matter. They could attack at any time. They’re always there. Waiting for me. I look up and see only the porch light, swivel my head from side to side to check every angle. I…
I had no plan, no outline and no clear concept for this book. But I started writing it anyway because I’m not entirely certain I had any of those components in place when I began writing the first two books.
Why must I always find something to mock about other people’s happiness or romantic moments? Am I that uncomfortable with genuine emotion? With love? I write romance novels. I should be applauding these moments, shouldn’t I? But instead, I tear them down and pour my caustic words on top of them. A chilling thought is maybe I don’t really buy into what I’m trying to sell.
What I want to say to those who keep posting on Facebook and other social media about their sadness and resentment is this: Grow the hell up. Life’s not fair. You don’t always get what you want. Get over it and move on and toughen up. Because if you’ve still got your panties in a wad over an election that wasn’t even close, you have a tough future ahead of you.
that’s what I’d tell my daughter. Look at Donald Trump. If he can do it, you can too. Never stop believing in yourself and what you have to offer.