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Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
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Utah
Planning
Clock
Nora
Wouldn
Patch
Call
Hail
Left
Patches
Mary
Throwing
Seconds
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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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Boys everywhere take note: That was a kiss.
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Patch was in my life for a reason. I needed him. We were two halves of the same whole.
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You dress to impress, I said approvingly. No, Angel. He leaned in, his teeth softly grazing my ear. I undress to impress.
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Citizen's arrest, he said. Well, that, and Patch told me to.
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He was abominable...and the most alluring, tortured soul I'd ever met.
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I swear to you, Patch, to take your love and cherish it. And in return, to give you my body and my heart—everything I possess, I give to you. I am yours. Wholly and completely. Love me. Protect me. Fulfill me. And I promise to do the same.” ~ Nora + Patch
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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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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 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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If I missed out on some really big action, I’m going to be royally pissed off!
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His smile was sexy and warned of trouble, but I'd made up my mind that not all trouble was bad.
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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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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 shouldn't have been looking at lingerie. It naturally made me think about sexy things. Like kissing. Like Patch.
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Inwardly, I gouged my eyes out.
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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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