They lie on the hillside, wearing matching white dresses, tiaras in their blonde hair. Each of them clutches a red rose. They could be sleeping, but frost shines on the lashes of their wide blue eyes,…
A key to paradise isn’t the same thing as entry. After a tumultuous childhood, Roy Fernsby now runs a quaint London coffee shop that his friends frequent, cycles on Sundays . . . and keeps his distance…
For Rose Gardner, working at the DMV on a Friday afternoon is bad even before she sees a vision of herself dead. She’s had plenty of visions, usually boring ones like someone’s toilet’s overflowed, bu…
