Actually, author season is over for another year. Instead of hunting us, now is the time to put out the salt-lick and spray yourselves for ticks.
Some of you have noticed a shift in tone or content in my new novel, Iodine, and as promised, here is the chance for you to ask/answer questions, offer theories, or talk about your phobias. (I don’t know what you’ll do, for heaven’s sake.) Please be kind to one another: it’s just a novel, life is brief, we’re all in the same itty bitty boat. [Ed. Note: Haven would not actually get in a boat, big or small. She and George Stuteville are both greatly attached to dry land.]