Wouldn't--" Kel began to say, but the words stuck in her mouth. She swallowed and tried again. "Wouldn't it be well, not nice to flirt with somebody you don't want to fall in love with?

Oakbridge did his work with dramatics and prophecies that all would go horribly awry. Having dealt with him over midwinter, Kel wondered why the man hadn’t died of a heart attack. Instead he seemed to thrive on disaster and finding people seated in the wrong places.

I come from a dysfunctional family, so my views of parents and parenting used to be highly mixed.

I forgot my purse of laughter when I dressed this mornin'," she told me. "Have you not bought anythin' the last few days? Prices have gone up. Pay or starve, it's all one to me.

With each book, in each place, I have to keep an ongoing map as I write because otherwise I don't know where I am.

We live in a dark time. Books are as dark as what is available to teenagers through the media every day.

I suppose he could have changed," Neal said dryly. "I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil." The other pages snorted. Kel eyed her friend. "You do look yellow around the edges," she told him, her face quite serious. "I hadn’t wanted to bring it up." "We daffodils like to have things brought up," Neal said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "It reminds us of spring.