Killer skirt, deadly legs.
I didn't accept your sacrifice. I turned it down. I felt a small.
It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that.
Your past wouldn't frighten me, I said, buckling my seat belt across my lap. I'm guessing I'd be more appalled than anything.
I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. You like Mexican? he asked.
I shouldn't have been looking at lingerie. It naturally made me think about sexy things. Like kissing. Like Patch.
Vee never needed a reason to do something stupid. Sad thing was, most of the time I didn't either.
Have you finished your column for tomorrow's headline?" It was Vee. She came up beside me, jotting notes on the notepad she carried everywhere. "I'm thinking of writing mine on the injustice of seating charts. I got paired with a girl who said she just finished lice treatment this morning.
I can't decide if your naïveté is adorable, or if I want to smack some sense into you.
Your mine, angel. And I won't let anything change that.
I had to lull Mom and Hank into believing I was in the right frame of mind to be taken into public. If I exited my bedroom foaming at the mouth and dressed in black LOVE SUCKS tee, my plan would never get off the ground.
You're cold, Angel. Let me warm you.
There's my date," I said. "Fashionably late.
What are you writing? I asked. And she speaks English, he said while scrawling.
Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless-and shockingly handsome-alter ego.
Arrogance can be deadly.
The guy I've got my eye on happens to be hot. Off-the-charts hot. Hotter-than-Patch hot." She paused. "Well maybe not that hot. Nobody's that hot.
Just because I've gone and snagged myself a hot boyfriend doesn't mean I'm going to leave my bestfriend high and dry.
What was it with evildoers trying to hire my boyfriend as a mercenary?
This ring belongs to the Black Hand. He killed your dad.