If I can keep writing just one good page a day, I will have 15 published novels in my expected lifetime. Tick, tick, tick...
The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun...
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The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun...
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His grip on my shoulder tightens. His other hand behind my head caresses me softly and I sigh."Touch me, Skye."His voice is rough, almost sounding like a groan.