Stacy Larsen

“So..." Heather nodded slowly. "We're still here."
"Yep. I think your team of SWAT guys got lost. Probably looking for their shirts."
She made a face at him. "You're effing hilarious."
"I try.”
― Chelsea Fine, Avow

“Tristan was looking at him again.
"What are you looking at?" Gabriel snapped.
Tristan was trying not to smile. "You tell me."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Quit being a girl.”
― Chelsea Fine, Avow

“Her hand wandered under his shirt, feeling his rapid breath expand his ribs. She hesitated for a second—wondering what the chances were that either of her parents would come home early—then lifted his shirt with both hands, guiding it up his arms and over his head. It was her favourite indulgence; holding herself against his bare chest.”
― Aprilynne Pike, Spells

“She waved, laughing, waiting for him to go zooming past her. Instead he slowed, then came to a stop right in front of her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, as he put his foot on the asphalt. She pointed to the finish line, a scant hundred yards away. "Go."

People around them started screaming. Josh ignored them all.

He pulled off his glasses. "How you doing?"
"Josh! This isn't funny. Move." She glanced over his shoulder, knowing the other racers would appear at any second. "Just finish. You can win. Then we'll talk."
"We can talk now."

She shrieked. "No! I said I was wrong. I said I loved you. What more do you want?"
"You," he said. "For always."
"Yes, yes. You can have that. Now go. Cross the finish line. It's right there. Can't see it? Hurry."
"You'll marry me?"

The man next to her turned. "For God's sake, lady. Marry him already.”
― Susan Mallery, Chasing Perfect