In my qualified opinion as a Biblical scholar, there is 'massive' and overwhelming historical evidence that the New Testament manuscripts are in fact reliable." ~R. Alan Woods [2013]

Are ye hungry?" she asked, her voice soothing.His stomach growled. "I could cut the heart out of a stag and eat it raw."She chuckled. "Fortunately, we do no' have to go to such extremes.

What makes you think you can stop me?”“I’m a lady, and you’re a gentleman.”He smirked. “Are you sure about that?”“About which?”“Either.

When a friend of Abigail and John Adams was killed at Bunker Hill, Abigail's response was to write a letter to her husband and include these words, "My bursting heart must find vent at my pen.

He turned to look at her. "We've some talking to do.""Didn't we do that on the plane ride over here?""I doona remember talking. I remember kissing, touching, and many orgasms, but no talking.

Slow down,’ he said, ‘so I can see how you do it,’ but she’d laughed and said, ‘I can’t slow down, if I stopped to think how I was doing it I couldn’t do it at all.

Historical fiction of course is particularly research-heavy. The details of everyday life are there to trip you up. Things that we take for granted, indeed, hardly think about, can lead to tremendous mistakes.

Wicked eyes are not a good prospect for seminary boys. They want a gentle, soft sort of wife, not a wife who looks as though she may sprout wings and carry off the young children of the village. ~Maria "Smythe

When writing the constitution for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, John Adams wrote:I must judge for myself, but how can I judge, how can any man judge, unless his mind has been opened and enlarged by reading.

Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest. I jerked backward. "What are you doing?"His eyes were black and intense. "A little taste before the wedding, Jayden?

They were orphans of war, washed up on that little island in a tide of blood. What made them amazing wasn't that they had miraculous powers; that they had escaped the ghettos and gas chamges was miracle enough.

I sat there, staring at the television set, the images of her playing over and over, my memories right there on the screen. I was overcome with a deep sense of loss. The tears streamed down my face, and I was not ashamed.

By some miracle, Charlotte's polite smile never wavered. It was a proud moment for her. After all, it wasn't every day that a little old lady told you right to your face that your bosom was as flat as a flounder.

Writing historical fiction has many common traits with writing sci-fi or fantasy books. The past is another country - a very different world - and historical readers want to see, smell and touch what it was like living there.

You have a spine of steel and fire in your eyes, Rosalie. To have such a quality, one must be shaken to the foundation of one’s soul and put back together. I want to know how you emerged from hell made of steel and fire.