People just make stupid mistakes. And they keep making them and keep making them, and suddenly they can't dig themselves out.

I can’t—” Lena repeated. “I can’t do it. I can’t live without him.” Sara gently pulled her hand away from Jared’s. She smoothed down the sheet, tucked it in close around his side. She looked at Lena—really looked at her straight in the eye. “Good,” Sara told her. “Now you know how it feels.

You can take my heart, but I can't let you take my dog.

I'm sold as a literary writer in Holland; I'm sold as crime fiction in England. I think of it as just literature.

I have a few unusual fans, as you can imagine, so I try to protect the privacy of my home life.

I'm not somebody who believes in evil.

First and foremost, I want people to have a good read, because I want everything I write to entertain people. There are always different layers to the story, though, so if you want to think about social justice, or sexism or racism or homophobia, or really drill down into why the world is a better place when the police force looks like the people they are policing, then that's there, too.