Kate Ryan

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.