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He tried to pull me against him, and I bit him on the lip. He licked his lip with the tip of his tongue. 'Did you just bite me?

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Lips
Tried
Bits
Licked
Bite
Bites
Pull
Tongue

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She already has a car.” “A Ford. That’s like Toyota’s worst enemy.
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Let me show you,” he said in my ear. “Like this. Feel that? Relax. Now pivot your hips—it’s all in the hips.
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Biggest dream?” I was proud of this one because I knew it would stump him. It required forethought. “Kiss you.” “That’s not funny,” I said, holding his eyes, grateful I didn’t stutter. “No, but it made you blush.
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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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I don't go out with strangers, I said. Good thing I do. I'll pick you up at five.
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Boys everywhere take note: That was a kiss.
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Jev stroked his chin. Do I look like a summer fling?
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But if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you. I always have. All my love, Patch
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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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I wasn´t expecting to come home to you, but now that you´re here, I have no intention of letting you leave. Patch :D (p. 295)
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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.
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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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Rollover minutes don’t work with curfews.
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Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.
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Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless-and shockingly handsome-alter ego.
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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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There was nothing wrong with fire … as long as you didn’t stand too close. Something to keep in mind.
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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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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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Vee said, I'm trying to read the title he's holding…hang on…How to Be a Stalker. He is not checking out a book with that title. But I wasn't so sure. It's either that of How to Radiate Sexy Without Trying.
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