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.

She kissed me harder, breath huffing into my mouth, and bit my lip. Oh, hell that was amazing. I growled before I could stop myself.

I try to think of something catchy to say, but there's nothing but irritation that something that was funny yo an eleven-year-old boy is still funny to a seventeen-year-old one.

It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.

I can't tell the difference," I said. "Between not fighting and giving up.

I expect that would be a very different world with very different priorities.

Gansey turned the key. The engine turned over once, paused for the briefest of moments - and then roared to deafening life. The Camaro lived to fight another day. The radio was even working, playing the Stevie Nicks song that always sounded to Gansey like it was about a one-winged dove.