Kissing Sinclair was like making out with a sexy timber wolf— he was licking my fangs and nipping me lightly and growling under his breath and it was...oh, it was really something.

I'm in a Road Runner cartoon, Sinclair. And I'm the coyote.

It was scary how much she sounded like me sometimes. Maybe that's why she totally got on my nerves

I've got a folder full of rejection slips that I keep. Know why? Because those same editors are now calling my agent hoping I'll write a book or novella for them. Things change. A rejection slip today might mean a frantic call to your agent in six months.

Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

Fredrika Bimm, what do you think you're doing?" "Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I had died at childbirth." "Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms.

We have souls. Sure we do. Otherwise we'd do bad things all the time. You know, like politicians.