I've been writing stories since I was 12. 'Writer's Digest' was one of my writing teachers, actually.

I locked the door, for what good it would do me, and went to bed. The Browning Hi-Power was in its second home, a modified holster strapped to the headboard of my bed. The crucifix was cool metal around my neck. I was as safe as I was going to be and almost too tired to care. I took one more thing to bed with me, a stuffed toy penguin named Sigmund. I don't sleep with him often, just every once in a while after someone tries to kill me. Everyone has their weaknesses. Some people smoke. I collect stuffed penguins. If you won't tell, I won't.

If you love someone, truly love them, you should never cause them pain. Never fill their eyes with something so close to grief.

Jason patted me on the back. “Tomorrow night we'll take you out chasing deer.” “I thought you'd chase cars,” I said. He grinned. “What fun is that? Cars don't bleed.

I should not have to flirt with someone while I'm trying to threaten someone else with a gun; it was too hard to do both.

I’d learned a long time ago that you can’t prove a negative. You can prove that you did something, but it’s the devil to prove you didn’t do something.

I didn't want to pick at Micah and me until we unraveled. I wanted to leave it alone and enjoy it. I just didn't know how to do that.