'Leah drew back slowly until she was sitting on her heels. He nearly reached out to stop her, had to force himself to keep his hands where they were, fisted in the bedcovers. Her light and energy drew him with a gravitational force. He craved more of it all the time when he’d grown used to wanting less of everyone else.'
My husband and I stayed in a stunning Victorian Villa in Michigan, which became the imaginary blueprint for Esther's house. The updating of Amity Court is based heavily on our own experiences of renovating an old property. (Yes, we also suffer with an extremely temperamental hot water system. Yes, we have to keep the WiFi door open. And, yes, the dessicated mouse fell on my shoulder, just like it did on Leah's.)
'There was barely a square inch of him that wasn’t either filthy or sweaty—his hair coated in a thick layer of dust, gray t-shirt more dark patches than light. Even the hairs on his forearms were clogged with grime. He smelled of hard work and stale debris and, damn, if that wasn’t a whole lot more appealing than it sounded.'