Most Fiction Series Are Written

He Said He Loved Me,” She Whispered. Daniel Swallowed, And He Had The Strangest Sensation, Almost A Premonition Of What It Must Like To Be A Parent. Someday, God Willing, He’d Have A Daughter, And That Daughter Would Look Like The Woman Standing In Front Of Him, And If Ever She Looked At Him With That Bewildered Expression, Whispering, “he Said He Loved Me . . .” Nothing Short Of Murder Would Be An Acceptable Response.

Never," He Spat Out, "kick A Man Who Is Pointing A Gun At You.

Gregory,” She Said, “you Cannot Leave Me Here. What If Someone Finds You And Removes You From The House? Who Will Know I Am Here? And What If…and What If…and Then What If…” He Smiled, Enjoying Her Officiousness Too Much To Actually Listen To Her Words. She Was Definitely Herself Again. “when This Is All Over,” He Said, “i Shall Bring You A Sandwich.” That Stopped Her Short. “a Sandwich? A Sandwich?

He Ought To Buy Her A New Dress. She Would Never Accept It, Of Course, But Maybe If Her Current Garments Were Accidentally Burned... ...but How Could He Manage To Burn Her Dress? She'd Have To Not Be Wearing It, And That Posed A Certain Challenge In And Of Itself.

The Biggest Challenge Of My Career, Which Is Something That Authors Of Genre Fiction Face All The Time, Is Writing Something Fresh And New And At The Same Time Meeting Reader Expectations.