People vote for whom they believe will be the best president and representative for our country. The First Lady is not on the ballot.

…We were pulling into the next station, when the woman suddenly got to her feet and made a move to squeeze past me. As her knees made contact with mine, she turned towards me. Her...

It feels like the city is telling secrets down here, privy only to those who think to listen.

Popularity is like a girl in class that you can’t ignore. She give you eyes when no one looks then turns to her friends and laughs some more.

She might have been there for you in the aftermath, but I was there when everything came crashing down.

Books are keys that open many doors — James Rollins

A writer looks at an issue and asks, ‘What if this were to occur? Or what if that was thrown into the mix? What would that look like?

She had been lying there, facedown in the water long before the tide had turned at 3.04 that morning. Her eyes were staring into the river, her blonde hair first fanning out, then drawing back...

His heart cracked open and flooded all the space around it.

That night, he laid in his bed thinking about all the possibilities. They came like waves in his mind. At first they came slow, then gradually built up speed, cresting into full on dreams, until...

Congratulations,” she said. “You win.

His jaw was clenched. His breathing became labored, like he was carrying something heavy. She watched the muscles in his throat working, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, hard.Victory.At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t...

He watches the shadows cast by her hands as she sorts through their clothes scattered across the floor. The shape of her arms as she reaches up, slipping his black T-shirt over her head —...

If the world explore all my dark fantasy, will change for the better”.

Vomit began to spill out of me like pea soup, splattering the road with champagne and caviar, long island iced teas, of bacon appetizers and croissants, and a perfectly grilled filet mignonette. It had gone...

The price of coming from a small town is that everyone knows your story. Your book has been read, shelved, dusted, and re-read by everybody.

Dear Diary: I have a confession to make: I’ve become a total idiot over French pastries. They’re my new favorite food. My new-found edible souvenir. My new favorite sin. Dunkin Donuts is so yesterday.