Addicted to Dragon Eggs.
Having spent an inexcusable number of hours watching marathons of both legendary series and otherwise, my usual hard, fast rule is fairly consistent: no science fiction. And yet, time after time, I find myself ignoring my well-intended reasoning to discover the secret beneath the hatch (Lost), to root for the blood-sucking, beautiful vampires (True Blood), to watch dead people have heart-to-hearts (Six Feet Under), and - most recently - to watch dragon people hatch (dragon) eggs in blazing (dragon-producing) fires (Game of Thrones). The latter (GoT) came and went too fast - two and a half days, to be precise - and now I am left science-fiction-less until next April, during which I'll be (semi-)forced to 'fill this void' with less magical operating rooms (Grey's/Private Practice), UES relationships (xoxo, GG), and pimps disguised as high school basketball coaches (Hung). Enjoy!
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I got three of the books out of the library, and book one was so well-thumbed, I couldn't read it. (Apparently the library is behind the times.)And I was almost glad. I recognize an addiction when I see (read?) one.
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