Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" "If I did?

There was no sign of Jules. “Bad news,” said Elliot. “The man is sick. You’re going to have to settle for me.” “Sick?” Vee demanded. “How sick? What kind of excuse is sick?” “Sick as in it’s coming out both ends.” Vee scrunched her nose. “Too much information.

I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax." I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. "I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped.

I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.

..but maybe this was a defense mechanism. Maybe my mind was making me see things I refused to accept were gone forever. It was filling the void, because that was easier than letting go.

If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.

Try it on." "It's probably a little snug," I said, suddenly feeling conspicuous. "Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing." He merely smiled. "It has a slit up the thigh." His smile deepened.