Quote

Science is an investigation, Coach said, sanding his hands together. Science requires us to transform into spies. Put that way, science almost sounded fun. But I'd been in Coach's class long enough not to get my hopes up.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Class
Investigation
Science
Transform
Hands
Coach
Together
Hopes
Enough
Coaches
Long
Requires
Spies
Way
Fun
Spy
Almost
Sounded

More quotes by Becca Fitzpatrick

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Hmm?' I looked away, flustered automatically using irritation to cover my discomfort up. 'What does 'hmm' have to do with anything? Could you ever use more that five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across-- primal.' His smile tipped higher. 'Primal.' 'You're impossible.' 'Me Jev, you Nora.' -Nora & Patch (PG 226)
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I don't go out with strangers, I said. Good thing I do. I'll pick you up at five.
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Every animal on the planet attracts mates with the goal of reproduction. Frogs swell their bodies. Male gorillas beat their chests. Have you ever watched a male lobster rise up on the tips of his legs and snap his claws, demanding female attention? Attraction is the first element of all animal reproduction, humans included
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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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I don't have 'five' you can borrow. My piggy bank is officially anorexic.
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I’m really starting to like all this spy work,” Vee said. “When my normal life gets boring, all I have to do is sidle up next to you.
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I learned that I was either crazy in love with you, or putting on the best performance of my life.' -Nora (PG 263)
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Listen, Patch, I don’t want to be rude, but—” “Sure you do.” “Well, you started it!” Lovely. Very mature.
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Right now, holding you, I feel like we have a shot at beating all odds and making it together.
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I had fun last night, I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. I'm officially on love with your sheets. That the only thing you're in love with? Nope. Your mattress, too. Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. My bed's an open invitation.
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I can't imagine why you're so interested. He shook his head. Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.
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If I were thinking straight, I'd take you home right now.
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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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Nice costume, he said. Ditto. I can tell you put a lot of thought into yours. Amusement curled his mouth. If you don't like it, I can take it off.
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Patch? Whatever happens, I love you. I wanted to say more, those three words painfully inadequate for the way I felt about him. And at the same time, so simple and accurate, nothing else would do.
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They say that when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. They never tell you that when you watch someone you once loved dying, hovering between this life and the next, it's twice as painful, because you're reliving two lives that traveled one road together.
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We touched base at several strategic locations down our bodies, and it took all my willpower to break away.
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You’ve never been to school, ever? If that’s true—and you’re right, I don’t think it is—what made you decide to come this year?” “You.
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Since the dawn of time, women have been attracted to mates with strong survival skills—like intelligence and physical prowess— because men with these qualities are more likely to bring home dinner at the end of the day.” He stuck his thumbs in the air and grinned. “Dinner equals survival, team
Becca Fitzpatrick
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You're mine, Angel. And I'm yours. Nothing can change that.
Becca Fitzpatrick