I didn't know how to be a writer. But I thought, 'I can do this.'

I write the best book that I can write each time.

I thought I was too intellectual to read something like 'Sweet Savage Love.'

My orange Persian Mews hangs out with me while I write.

The year I turned 16, I spent the weeks before Christmas dropping hints to my parents about how much I wanted - no, needed - my own transportation.

I came out of what we romance writers call The Romance Ghetto, because we get so little respect.