| Author: | Susan Brassfield Cogan | ISBN: | 9781476406701 |
| Publisher: | Susan Brassfield Cogan | Publication: | July 18, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Susan Brassfield Cogan |
| ISBN: | 9781476406701 |
| Publisher: | Susan Brassfield Cogan |
| Publication: | July 18, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Angie Tanaka, a professional thief, has an uneasy friendship with Daiyu, a dragon who has been around since China was a collection of mud huts. This is the first of a series of interviews with an ancient dragon who struggles to live down her past. And she has such a lot of it to live down.
Excerpt:
Daiyu wore a black leather jacket, tight black pants and her short hair was all spiky and dangerous looking. She has a black dragon tattoo that winds around her neck and up the right side of her face. The dragon's head rests above her right eye.
She sat across the little table from me and lifted the ancient tea cup.
“Good Morning, Angela.”
I hate being called anything but Angie. Of course, she knows that.
“Good morning, Daiyu. Thank you for doing this.”
She tilted her head a sixteenth of an inch and sipped her tea.
What do you talk about with someone who has witnessed a big hunk of history, someone who can flawlessly speak every human language, someone who can shape-shift and look like anybody or anything they want? It's hard to narrow down the questions because there are too many.
So I decided to start with something obvious.
“How old are you?”
Angie Tanaka, a professional thief, has an uneasy friendship with Daiyu, a dragon who has been around since China was a collection of mud huts. This is the first of a series of interviews with an ancient dragon who struggles to live down her past. And she has such a lot of it to live down.
Excerpt:
Daiyu wore a black leather jacket, tight black pants and her short hair was all spiky and dangerous looking. She has a black dragon tattoo that winds around her neck and up the right side of her face. The dragon's head rests above her right eye.
She sat across the little table from me and lifted the ancient tea cup.
“Good Morning, Angela.”
I hate being called anything but Angie. Of course, she knows that.
“Good morning, Daiyu. Thank you for doing this.”
She tilted her head a sixteenth of an inch and sipped her tea.
What do you talk about with someone who has witnessed a big hunk of history, someone who can flawlessly speak every human language, someone who can shape-shift and look like anybody or anything they want? It's hard to narrow down the questions because there are too many.
So I decided to start with something obvious.
“How old are you?”
