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Are you crazy? I said. Crazy about you. Patch! Don't worry, we've got time. How do you know? He staggered back a step, with his hand over his heart. Your lack of faith hurts.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Faith
Hurts
Hands
Lack
Back
Step
Heart
Steps
Time
Crazy
Worry
Staggered
Hurt
Patch
Hand
Patches

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He nuzzles my neck affectionately. I love you. I'm happier right now than I ever remember being.
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I wanted to imprint his touch, his taste, even the scent of him so solidly inside me that no one could take them away from me.
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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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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
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It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me I don't think I could handle the real thing.
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She shrieked. Nora! What happened to the banister! Good thing she hadn't seen her bedroom yet.
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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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If you keep running from me, you're never going to figure out what's really going on.
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Is that a yes? he asked, pushing his fingers through my hair, fanning it out around my shoulders and searching my face intently. Please let it be yes, he said with a gravelly edge. Stay with me tonight. Let me hold you, even if that's all it is. Let me keep you safe.
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It isn't about love, Vee said. It's about fun.
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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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There was nothing wrong with fire … as long as you didn’t stand too close. Something to keep in mind.
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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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I was just about to ask you the same thing. I know you followed me. Don't look so suprised. It's called a rearview mirror. Are you stalking me for a specific reason?
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Because I thought I was in love. And when you think you're in love, you are willing to stick it out and make it work until it is love.
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Your mine, angel. And I won't let anything change that.
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