I've never written a children's book, but when people meet me for the first time and I say I write books, they invariably reply, 'Children's books?' Maybe it's something about my face.

Everyone's moving on without me, into a world I don't understand.

Whoever it was, whether I knew them or not, if I could help in some way, I would. I mean, if you can help, you have to help. Don't you think? - Poppy Wyatt

A mistake isn’t a mistake unless it can’t be put right.

I had a craving for pineapple and a pink cardigan" - Becky Bloomwood Shopaholic and Baby

Maybe my identity's been stolen. Or maybe I was sleep-shopping!

What are they waiting to see?" Sam follows my gaze and I shrug. "Who knows? You could always do a dance, or tell a joke, or... kiss the bride?" "Not the bride," he wraps his arms around me, and gradually pulls me close. Our noses are practically touching. I can see right into his eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin. "you." Me. "The girl who stole my phone." His lips brush across the corner of my mouth. "The thief." "It was in a bin." "Still stealing." "No it isn't-," I begin. But now his mouth is firmly on mine, and I can't speak at all. And suddenly, life is good.