I realize that I had always in my heart of hearts planned to write a biography of Marie Antoinette.

I have no plans for a future Jemima Shore mystery, but would write one tomorrow if a good idea came to me.

I hate the only one of my book jackets when I was made up professionally, my hair made into a smooth bell.

I enjoyed writing mysteries out of my imagination as a relief from all that research, and also because I could write them while traveling.

I don't like it, but this afternoon I've told myself I am going to go and get a dress.

I can't read historical fiction because I find the real thing so much more interesting.