I Was In Love With Scott Bennett.

For Each Book, I Do End Up Making A Kind Of Playlist To Fit The Characters.

I Think You Get So Wrapped Up In The Book You're Currently Writing, It's Hard To Think About Anything Else. But I Know As Soon As I'm Done With This Book, I'll Move On To Something Else.

It’s My Own Fault, Really. For Believing In Fairy Tales. Not That I Ever Mistook Them For Actual Historical Fact, Or Anything. But I Did Grow Up Believing That For Every Girl, There’s A Prince Out There Somewhere. All She Has To Do Is Find Him. Then It’s On With The Happily Ever After. So You Can Only Imagine What Happened When I Found Out. That My Prince Really Is One. A Prince. No, I Really Mean It. He’s An Actual Prince.

And Standing Before Me A Bloodied Bottle Of Absolut In Her Hand, Is Mrs. Allington, Her Pink Jogging Suit Drenched, Her Chest Heaving, Her Eyes Filled With Contempt As She Stared Down At Rachel's Prone Body. Mrs. Allington Shakes Her Head. "i'm A Size Twelve," She Says.

Unrequited Love Is All Right In Books And Things, But In Real Life, It Completely Sucks