A novel is a conversation starter, and if the author isn't there for the after-party, both the writer and the reader are missing a lot.

I remembered standing in the middle of the street in front of The Crooked Bookshelf, filled with the certainty of a future. I had heard the wolves howling behind the house and remembered how glad I had been to be human.

It occurred to me then that I was the opposite of my father. Because I was very, very good at destroying things.

They're saying that you and Sean Kendrick were burning up the cliffs." Tommy spins me again and grins at me. "And when I say you and Sean Kendrick, I mean you and Sean Kendrick. And by burning, I mean burning.

When we kissed, it didn't matter that I had been a wolf hours ago, or that I would be a wolf again. It didn't matter that a thousand snares were laid for us as soon as we left this moment. All that mattered was this: our noses touching, the softness of his mouth, the ache inside me.

I'm fascinated about how past events shape our perception of current events and how they make us the people we are.

This is about as comforting as a cold brick when you're lonely.