He Stepped Into My Room With One

Writing Has Always Felt Like A Compulsion. Even At High School There'd Be Times When People Would Ask Me If I Wanted To Go And Hang Out And I'd Sit Home And Write Instead.

I Think I Draw Most Inspiration From Writers Like Richelle Mead And Filmmakers Like John Hughes. They Both Really Understand The Experience Of Being A Teenager And How Insistent And Intense Everything Feels, But They're Also Smart, Savvy, And Fun.

You Could Kill Me, Alice, He Looked At Me Seriously. That's How Much You Mean To Me. As Foolish And Masochistic As That Makes Me, You Are So Much To Me That Even If It Destroys Me To Be With You, I'll Be With You!

The Desperation Was Coming Off You In Waves. You Were All But Begging To Dance With Me. I Am Doing You A Favor.

You Really Do Hate Me, Don't You? I Mean, Destroying Someone's Ice-cream Cone? That's Vicious." Her Cheeks Reddened. "i Didn't See You There. Honestly." She Wiped At His Shirt More Frantically, As If She Could Prevent It From Staining If She Rubbed Hard Enough. "oh, Now I See Your Plan, And It's Far More Devious Than I Thought." Daniel Smirked. "you Were Looking For An Excuse To Grope Me.