A little boy who's discovered the monster under the bed is actually real, and it's screwing Mommy.

Tell that to the BTK killer,” I said. “He was a churchgoer, raised two kids, married, and resisted the urge to kill for decades. He was a person, but he was a monster, too

Put any woman in an area run mostly by men and rumors will fly. Unless you make it very clear that you are off limits, there is also a certain competitiveness that sets in. Some men are either trying to run you out of town or get into your pants. They don't seem to know any other way to deal with a woman. If you're not a sexual object, you're a threat.

I want a kiss to be so believable it gives the reader shivers.

You cannot die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.

She doesn't understand what she's asking, Jean-Claude said. No, but she asks, and if we do not do it, we will always wonder. I would rather thy and fail than regret having never tried at all.

Different isn't evil, it's just different.