Men and I are done. Whatever entertaining notions I enjoy while screwing around with the random guys that cross my path, are exactly that. Entertaining.

I don’t want more. I’m not capable of more. More would mean feeling. Would entail wanting. Desiring. And a slew of other emotions I haven’t experienced in over three years. And it’s not due to any stupid naïve intention of trying to keep my heart from breaking, nor is it as a result of having it broken by some poor slob who should have known better.

I can’t feel. I don’t have a heart. Period. And it’s going to take more than following some magic yellow brick road to get me a new one. Even if that road does lead straight to Riker ~The only soul on earth who’s as close to being dead as I am… and brings me as close to being alive as I’ll ever be.

It’s been a week. One whole goddamn week. Every day I tell myself she’ll turn up before the sun does. Then, when she doesn’t, I go to work, convinced I’ll find her here when I get back. I don’t know why I tell myself such bullshit. I’ve never been much for denial in the past. For some reason this time I just can’t get a fucking grip on things. I knew it could happen. Actually, I was pretty damn sure she would bolt as soon as I told her everything. I don’t even know why I knew that, other than she’s a creature of flight who lives in constant fear of being the cause of someone else’s pain.

Ironic, really. Considering how much she’s fucking hurting me by being gone. Only she can’t see that. Or maybe she does. I don’t know. I just know she believes staying will hurt me more than leaving. She’s fucked up in the head that way. Fucked up in the heart. Fucked up to her very core. And if I ever find the bastard who fucked her up, I’ll kill him.

Her flight for California departs in less than five days. I’m guessing Kirsten will show up on day six to collect all of the stuff Quinn couldn’t carry on foot when she left here in the middle of the night. I had half a mind to offer her a ride, but she seemed hell-bent on sneaking out, so eventually, I just faked sleep to make it easier on her. But it’s been a motherfucking week. And I’m done faking sleep and making shit easier for her. If she wants out, I’m going to make her tell me. To my face. And then I’m going to convince her she’s wrong.

Dog Lover who likes her pastries full of cream and sugar….oh…and I write some 😉

Aside from being an author, I am also a mom to a beautiful 5 year old little girl. I tell everyone I named her after my great-grandmother (because that’s the mature answer), but really, I named her after my favorite princess – just so happens I got lucky and they had the same name…If I wasn’t a writer, I would work on a horse ranch – I’m an animal lover (in addition to dogs, horses are at the top of my list). I wear flip-flops pretty much everywhere I go. I would rather stay awake until 5 am than get up at 5 am (years of bar tending have left their mark), if I can, I’m going to the beach AND I will always be nice to people who bring me chocolate…or coffee…if you bring me both, I’ll probably love you forever.A gypsy at heart, I write the way I live, following the story wherever it may lead, always ready to start the next one. This is clearly reflected in my body of work which to date includes everything from Children’s Lit to Thrillers.