The only thing I can be sure of these days are the three men who have somehow battered their way past my walls and forced me to, dare I say it, start feeling things.
Emerson Parker is exhausted. She spends her days chasing around her high energy, half-shifter toddler and her nights working full-time trying to make ends meet.
I can constantly hear them, the voices. It doesn’t matter if I’m in a crowded room or the middle of a desert, I hear them, indistinct voices. I can never really work out what they’re saying, and I’ve …
