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.

“You’re impossible,” she said, laughing. “No, I’m just in love with you,” I said.

“Help me,” the thing called again, sounding an awful lot like none of my business.

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

“Oh my god, chip my steel, you’re so annoying,” Alexis snapped. “Maybe if you fixed your attitude and took a bath once in a while, women would talk to you. You smell like old cheese and a mother’s regret.”

I do not know if my tits were built for murder. I don’t even think they were built with my back in mind.