It Was In The Forest. No One

My Childhood Was Spent Embracing One Literary Heroine After Another. I Identified Passionately With Each One And Would Slavishly Imitate Them.

She Doesn’t Really Have A Sense Of Humor. I Think She’d Like To Have One—it’s Just That She Doesn’t Quite Understand What Jokes Are For.

I've Always Had This Deep-down Conviction That I'm Not Like Everybody Else, And There's An Amazingly Exciting New Life Waiting For Me Just Around The Corner.

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.

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.