He raised his brows. "You're drunk." "Am not!" He gave me a bland look. "A drunk's famous last words before they fall flat on their face.

You don’t have to want to be in a relationship for a little bow-chicka-bow-wow.” Brittany looked at him slowly. “Did you really just say that?” “I did. And I owned it . Gonna make me a shirt that says that.

It’s okay. I’m used to people not wanting me at their parties.” I pushed to my feet. The stars seemed to twirl a bit with the movement. “No big deal.

A sleepy smile pulled at my lips as I rolled onto my stomach, stretching my legs out and pointing my toes. The sheets slipped over my bare skin and ended up somewhere at the foot of my bed. There was either a perverted ghost in my bedroom or Cam was wide awake.

I've never watched The Notebook either. Not big on romance flicks," I admitted, opening the huge cartons. "Really? I thought every girl has seen that movie and can quote it at a drop of a hat.

I trust you with my life

Sweet baby Jesus, Blue Eyes was... He was gorgeous in all the ways that made girls do stupid things. He was tall, a good head or two taller than me and broad at the shoulders, but tapered at the waist. An athlete's body - like a swimmer's. Wavy black hair toppled over his forehead, brushing matching eyebrows. Broad cheekbones and wide, expressive lips completed the package created for girls to drool over. And with those sapphire-colored eyes, holy moley...