The only thing a boyfriend was good for was a shattered heart.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

Did you hear something, Nora?” Vee asked. “I thought I heard something.” “You definitely heard something,” I agreed. “Could that be … a dog fart I heard?” Vee asked me.

We don't have an address," I said, "but we do know where he works." "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Vee asked, eyes brightening briefly through the haze of chemical sedation. "Based on past experience, I hope not.

I believe in destiny Angel. I believe every choice I've made has brought me closer to you. I looked for you for a very long time. I may have fallen from heaven, but I fell for you.

His smile was sexy and warned of trouble, but I'd made up my mind that not all trouble was bad.

I tilted my chin up a fraction. "You can't f-force me to stay here." I'd only agreed to come this far because I didn't want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two. "That sounded more like a question than a statement," said Patch. "Then ans-s-swer it." His rogue smile crept out. "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that." I glanced down at Patch's black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.