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I’m not stealing it. We’re stranded. This is called borrowing.” “This is called you’re crazy.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Stealing
Crazy
Called
Stranded
Borrowing

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His were the kind of eyes that held secrets. The kind that lied without flinching. The kind that once you looked into them, it was hard to break away.
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Strangely enough, it wasn’t Gabe who was haunting my thoughts, though. That job belonged to a pair of sinfully black eyes that had lost their edge when they studied me, turning as soft and sultry as silk.
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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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How did you get in? I move in mysterious ways. God moves in mysterious ways. You move like lightening-here one moment, gone the next.
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...I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesn’t hurt to smell good too.
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Boys everywhere take note: That was a kiss.
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You're scared of what you can't control
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What do I have to do to convince you that I'm only using Dabria for one reason, one only reason: Destroy Hank, bit by bit if is necessary,and make him pay for all the things he has done to harm the girl i love?
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Hang on, did you just call me Angel?” I asked. “If I did?” “I don’t like it.” He grinned. “It stays. Angel.” He leaned across the table, raised his hand to my face, and brushed his thumb along one corner of my mouth. I pulled away, too late.
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Nothing makes me happy quite like a boatload of freshly fried fast food, smothered in good old MSG.
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The more time I spent with him, the more I knew the feelings weren't going away.
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What is it with girls?” Elliot said, splitting a smile between us. “I swear, I’ve never known a girl who could go to the bathroom alone.” He leaned forward and grinned conspiratorially. “Let me in on the secret. Seriously. I’ll pay you five bucks each.” He reached for his back pocket. “Ten, if I can come along and see what the big deal is.
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You’re not going to drive me home?” I asked. A waste of breath, since I knew her answer. “There’s fog.” “Patchy fog.” Vee grinned. “Oh, boy. He is so on your mind. Not that I blame you. Personally, I’m hoping I dream about him tonight.
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It will cost me a lot to send you with Scott wearing that dress but, just so you know: if you come with that dress slightly wrinkled,I will trace Scott, and when I find him, it's not gonna be pretty
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I’m doing boy detox. Like a diet, only for my emotional health.
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I’m going to grab a cheeseburger,” I told Patch. “Want anything?” “Nothing on the menu.” I smiled. “Why, Patch, are you flirting with me?
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Or, if you decide you want to sleep at my place, on opposite sides of my bedroom with a Do Not Cross line drawn down the middle, I'll do it. I won't like it, but I'll do it.
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Did you hear something, Nora?” Vee asked. “I thought I heard something.” “You definitely heard something,” I agreed. “Could that be … a dog fart I heard?” Vee asked me.
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Wouldn't have pegged you for a dancer, he spoke to my mind Funny, I would have pegged you for a stalker, I shot back.
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Maybe Scotty the Potty turned into Scotty the Hottie. Have you thought about that?
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