Best 16 quotes of Jenny B. Jones on MyQuotes

And as for girls who try to stay away from me—my charm always wears them down.” “I’m up-to-date on my shots, so I’m pretty much immune to everything.

And now?" came my dad's voice. "Now who am I?" "The man who chose his girlfriend over his family." I turned and looked at my father. "Someone whose words I don't believe.

Any pub will do?” “McPherson’s, I think. One with music that will alter my life forever, give me eternal happiness, and make me see God. You know. One like that.” “So you need the magical sound of Ireland and some information about an Abbeyglen native. Francine”—Beckett’s eyes danced in the streaming sunlight—“I’m about to solve your every problem.” Beckett stood up and gave my hair a light tug. “Prepare to worship and adore me.

Bella,leave the aggressive stuff to me." My heart quirks in my chest. I may not like this guy but that sounded so hot. "Um..." Focus,focus. "What?

Can you tell me what happened?" Her lips thinned as she shook her head. "'Tis not a happy tale." "You have me reading a book about a girl who tries to kill an entire town. Anything else at this point would be a pick me up.

Finally the lock clicked. And the door opened. And there Lucy stood. An angel with a halo of blonde frizz. He stared at what they both knew was an absolute disaster and said the only thing he could. "I love it.

It was almost painful to watch,that kite of mine. Tethered to the string in my hand. Dancing in the sky all alone. My breath caught in my throat, my pulse beating wild and crazy on my chest. My heart soaring with every dip and turn of the kite,as if I were flying along,instead of standing with my two feet on the ground, squinting against the sun to see the dance. What if it fell? What if the breeze took it away? I counted the seconds until I could reel it back in. I was that kite. Fragile against the wind. Soaring one minute. Spiraling straight down next. Just looking for something to hold me up. Before I spun out of control and flew away. Dissappearing fron sight.

Make me proud today, Robmeister. Keep your hands to yourself and remember rule number one above all things.' 'Don't discuss politics.' 'No, the other one.' Robbie nods. 'Don't eat glue.' He drops his chin. 'It's my weakness.

Maybe tell me about those letters. Confession is good for the soul." I expected her to tear into me yet again, but instead she stayed silent for several seconds, running her fingers over the trim of her blanket. "I do belive my soul is past the point of helping." "That's not true. It's never too late." She looked at the town as we walked by, her eyes heavy with fatigue. And an ache so deep, it didn't have a name. I'd seen that look in my own mirror. "I gave up that right many years ago," she said. "My fate is like those envelopes-sealed and tossed aside.

My church-inspired conclusion was that she was obviously a proud woman, so if she was anything like me, sympathy would not win her over. After my brother's dissapearance, there was nothing I detested more than people oozing with softly spoken words and hugs that went on way too long.

My fate is like those envelopes – sealed and tossed aside.

Oh, to be the author of prison letters. It's a young girl's dream come true.

Sugar Lips, you have a guest in the fourth dimension. I repeat, you have a guest in the fourth dimension. This is Tijuana Daddy, over and out. ~Julian

Three eternities passed before she ran a hand under her red nose and nodded. "Fine. I'll go." Alex's lungs expanded as he let the air back in. "But the first woman who makes a crack about my hair--" "I'll punch her lights out." Alex pulled her to her feet. "You're supposed to love me, so it needs to be more severe than that." "I'll yank out her heart with ice tongs." "Aw." Lucy patted his chest. "You would do that for me?" He captured her hand, felt its warmth all the way through his shirt. "No amount of carnage is too much for my girl.

You’re a teenager. It’s all complicated.

You’re not too bad, Finley Sinclair.” I couldn’t have looked away from this boy if the room had caught on fire. “You’re okay yourself. At times.” “But we can’t get involved.” “No.” I swallowed. “Definitely not.” His face lowered a fraction of an inch. “Because I’m infamously bad.” “And I’m staying away from trouble.” His voice was rough, husky. “It would never work.” I took a step closer. “Impossible.” He traced my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We don’t even like each other." “I pretty much can’t stand you.” And then his lips crushed to mine.