It's ANGELS WEEK, Author-friends; angels angels angels. We have no idea why this happens, but queries come in waves. Last week was 238,000-word Conspiracy Tome week, the week before was Revisiting the Old Testament With Dubious Intent week, the week before that was Medical Thriller week, next week will be Revenant Apocalypse with Hobbits week, or something. This week we got: serial-killer angels, existentially angsty angels, teenager-guarding angels who develop Forbidden Attractions to their charges (lots and lots; those WACKY TEENAGE GIRLS just can't SPIT these days without hitting some kind of paranormal entity hot to trot with 'em! and we thought being a teenage girl was hard back in OUR day!), happy angels, mopey angels, and WAY TOO MANY Dirty Bird Angels, with the "vividly sensual" bits attached for our delectation. Angels are INSATIABLE, Author-friends. Did you know? We didn't either. Here we were, thinking they were all ANGELIC, but NO. Smutty, smutty angels! Tormented by Earthly Desires! Frolicking and gamboling with Lucifer! Enticing the single ladies with their smoking-hot bods and snowy snowy wings!
Some days we want to email Le R. Père and be all like, Pop, you were right. INVESTMENT BANKING WAS THE WAY TO GO. AUGH.