Quotes from Mary Kay Andrews

On my first trip to New York in the 1980s, the first place I wanted to visit was the Plaza Hotel, home to Kay Thompson's Eloise.

I want characters I can live for in a setting that makes me feel like I'm there.

I'm house obsessed, a house voyeur. Always have been.

For a writer, capturing that elusive Christmas morning magic can be deeply problematic.

I try to start drinking water as soon as my feet hit the floor in the morning.

Some of my most enjoyable moments as a writer have come while conjuring a meet cute.

Modern love - in the movies and music - especially country music - is full of tales of women exacting sweet revenge on the men who done them wrong.

Between planning family vacations and running away for novel-writing retreats, I've spent much of my adult life questing for the perfect beach escape, renting cottages all along the Florida Gulf and up and down the Atlantic Coast - as far north as Nags Head, as far south as Key West.

We are writing fiction, but we are trying to create a world that's believable.

Slipcovers are great because they can be laundered after those all-too-frequent sippy cup and red wine incidents.

My protagonists have problems that a new pair of shoes won't solve. Retail therapy is not a bad thing, but it's not going to fix their lives.

Technology and the internet have changed the world of publishing forever.

For years, I swore I couldn't work out because my own sweat gave me a rash.

Critics will tell you the 'meet cute' is a tired old writing cliche, but the thing is, cliche's work - because they ring true with the reader.

My ideal beach house has bookshelves full of paperbacks that can tolerate a little sand, a DVD library that includes some Disney classics for the little ones, board games, and jigsaw puzzles. At least one big flatscreen television is a must.

clawing at my heart all these years.

It was the night before my parents and Gardiner were to arrive. "I'm bored. Let's go for a drive." Ruth jumped up and ran down the stairs with Millie and me trailing along behind. We followed her out to the barn, which had once held racehorses but now housed Papa's "island cars"—a disreputable-looking collection of automobiles that had outlived their useful lives back at home in Boston but were

Greer's eyes darted back and forth on the road, always vigilant for bears. Or any other mammal that might wander onto the asphalt. She'd only been on the road for ten miles and already she'd spotted enough roadkill to fill a zoo.

The pay was crap. My boss was an idiot. And the final straw was that she wanted me to demonstrate a colon cleanse. On the air." Billy sniggered. "Talk about a shitty assignment.

The Silver Palate

It was an earworm, and she was certain Clint had deliberately planted it in her subconscious.

Angels carried her away, Joyfully singing with Jesus, Promoted to glory, Fell asleep in the cradle of death, Advanced to eternal life, and Breathed her soul into her Savior's arms were some

So it's not enough for me to be as good as a man. I gotta be better than them. And I gotta prove it. Every. Damned. Day

Dammit, I gotta go," Clint rasped. He slid off the bed, and faltered. His gown bunched at the waist and Greer looked away, but not before glimpsing something she knew she could never unsee.