Quote

I looked to the window. Patch was gone, but a single black feather was pressed to the outer pane, held in place by last night's rain. Or Angel Magic

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Magic
Patches
Single
Feathers
Gone
Outer
Lasts
Held
Last
Angel
Pane
Black
Rain
Feather
Night
Window
Patch
Place
Looked
Pressed

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I’m not going to kill you, Nora. I don’t kill people who are important to me. And you top the list.
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I turned my face up to his. I could hardly look at him the same way. I was crying without realizing I'd started. You made a deal with Hank. You saved my life. Why would you do that for me? Angel, he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.
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It’s so real. Most dreams are. It isn't until you wake up that you see all the plot holes.
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I’m not stealing it. We’re stranded. This is called borrowing.” “This is called you’re crazy.
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Vee scowled at him. She is famous for that scowl. It's a look that does everything but audibly hiss.
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You're crazy. You're impossible.' 'I'm crazy?' He tipped my chin up and planted a quick, rough kiss on my mouth. 'And I must be crazy for putting up with it.
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What is it with you and girls’ bathrooms?
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I think I'm more of a guardian angel girl.
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Walk out,” he repeated. “We need to talk.” “About how you need to sacrifice me to get a human body?” I asked, my tone light, my insides feeling leaden. “That might be cute if you thought it was true.
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I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn't feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I couldn't escape you and I didn't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you.
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You find the wrong boy, you ask for trouble. You find the right boy, you find love.
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Anything was better than nothing. Half-full was better than empty. Ignorance was the lowest form of humiliation and suffering.
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I swear to you, Nora Grey, on this day, from now and forever, to give myself to you. I am yours. My love, my body, my soul—I place in your possession and protection.” He held out the ring, a single offering, a binding promise. ~ Patch + Nora
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Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I’m a boy. Like Dorian Gray.” “Dorian who?” I sighed. “Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.” “Sure thing, Gumdrop.” I grimaced. “I take that back. Let’s stick with Grey.
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If I were thinking straight, I'd take you home right now.
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I'm a private contractor now. I choose my clients, not the other way around.
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Jev stroked his chin. Do I look like a summer fling?
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How warm I feel. How icredibly alive and vibrant and heedless every last inch of me feels next to you.
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I need to brush my teeth. And I need a shower. He grinned, hopping off the bike. Now that is an invitation.
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You smell good. It's called a shower. Soap, shampoo, water- Naked. I know the drill.
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