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He nuzzles my neck affectionately. I love you. I'm happier right now than I ever remember being.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Right
Love
Affectionately
Neck
Happier
Necks
Remember
Ever

More quotes by Becca Fitzpatrick

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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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Do you think the Bible is accurate? I mean, do you think it's real? I think Pastor Calvin is hot. In a fortysomething way. That pretty much sums up my religious conviction
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Let’s be honest, Nora. You’ve got it bad for me. His eyes held a lot of depth. And I’ve got it bad for you.
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When I'm wasted, I can almost forget who I am, he said, his smile fading slightly. I know I'm still there, but only barely. It's a good place to be. He tipped back the thermos, eyes on the dark sea straight ahead
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It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise.
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I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape.
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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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You’re impinging on my private space,” I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. Impinging? This isn’t the SAT, Nora.
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Inwardly, I gouged my eyes out.
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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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I’m not stealing it. We’re stranded. This is called borrowing.” “This is called you’re crazy.
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We need a ride. We're stranded. We still have two legs, leftie and rightie. Mine are in the mood for exercise. They feel like a nice long walk--ARE YOU CRAZY? she shrieked. I was standing with the tip of the beach umbrella aimed at the driver's-side window. What? I said. We have to get in.
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Your biggest dream? - Nora Grey Kiss you. - Patch Cipriano
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Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.
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What little light was left inside me flickered out.
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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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My life sucks when I’m only half-aware of it. If I quit drinking and saw what it’s really like, I’d probably jump off a bridge.
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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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Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless-and shockingly handsome-alter ego.
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I want Scott to look at me the way Patch looks at you.
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