The Pucking Wrong Number (Pucking Wrong, #1)

by C.R. Jane

At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her tonight. I’d copied her key, and after she fell asleep…we’d be having a sleepover party. Other people might call that scary stalker behavior. I called it true love.

“Good girl,” he muttered, instantly drenching my panties. What was it about those words that universally ruined panties?

"Hockey players are far superior athletes than all the other pussy sports, Monroe. The only thing that keeps us out is falling off balconies.”

Living for someone was the most unselfish thing you could do.

Once again, I found myself punching my best friend.

It was kind of fun being completely crazy.

It was time to get back to my girl. I'd never let her leave, I thought as I drove. No matter what, I'd make her happy, even if it meant locking her up and waiting for fucking Stockholm Syndrome to take hold.

“Fuck love, Monroe. Love is nothing. You can feel love for anyone. What I feel for you is pain. Knowing that a part of my fucking soul is living outside of my body and now that I’ve found it, I’ll die if I ever lose it. That’s what we have. Love is a shadowed imitation for people unlucky enough to never find their soulmates. What we have is everything.”