I didn't trot my pain out to show around. I kept it better hidden than anyone. I did.

Each time, I think I'm never going to write another book. It never gets easier.

I think readers are just looking for things that maybe they recognize or can relate to in the books.

When he stopped walking and kissed me a few minutes later, it was like time had stopped, with the air, my heart, and the world all so still. And it was this I remembered every other time I was with Marshall.

It is kind of hard to hold a lot in. But for me… it’s sometimes even harder to let it out.

We were willing to do so much for the people we loved, even if it meant hurting ourselves. Maybe that, in the end, was what love- all kinds- was really about.

I think I'm way too much of a control freak to co-author anything with anyone. I have a hard enough time writing with myself! I admire people that can do it, but it's not for me.