That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf (Mead Mishaps, #2)

by Kimberly Lemming

Potatoes are by far the most versatile crop. You can fry them up, bake them, or throw them at undesirable men who refuse to leave you alone.

With the force of every woman tired of broke men’s audacity, I yeeted the drink straight at Jack’s head. Unfortunately for me, that broke man could dodge.

just imprinted on my mate.”

“Should I growl in your ear that you’re mine and toss you over my shoulder? I admit it’s not my style, but for you, Lamb? Anything.”

it’s partially the love potion taking over. But still. Fuck that page.

“A little,” she began. “And while yes, a fated-mate-type situation would do wonders for my abandonment issues, I’m just not that lucky.”

I imagine hybrid children will have a stronger disposition. Cheese pups, if you will.”

“Can we go back to the ‘his humans’ thing? Are we supposed to pay taxes to him or something?” That is one debt collector I never want to cross.

“You eat pies?” “No, I shove them up my ass,” he growled.

“Your ass is going to regret that later.” “Eh, it can take a tentacle, it can take a pie.” I winced

“Brie?” All I could focus on was his nearness. My heart beat against my rib cage as if it were the one suffering the effects of the potion. “I think I might love you,” I whispered.

A dust-covered pause filled the air. “You’re doing this because you couldn’t get bitches?” Alexis asked.

The redhead shrugged. “We get it, my guy. Mommy said you were special and the girl you liked disagreed. You don’t have to join a cult. Maybe get some therapy and aim more in your… you know, looks range.” “You’re a bitch,” he snapped.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Alexis let out a loud sigh. “I gotta be honest with ya, Big Daddy Dave. At first I was like, ‘Damn, this group looks like they jack off on crystals and kick puppies’ and then I saw y’all praying to a glowing puddle. That’s when I knew everything was gonna be OK.”

My mouth quirked, and I stroked my fingers over the masculine bridge of his collarbone. “I may have… thrown it into the woods.”