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.

“It’s a lot less painful than what your woman would go through if you put her through childbirth. You can’t expect her to go through worse pain if you yourself can’t even offer her this.”

“You can’t skimp out if you want something perfect.”

“If you woke me up for another one of your stupid games, I’ll shove Gorgonzola down your throat until you shit out your soul.”

Bahahaha

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Three lemon meringue pies.” “… Pies?” I asked. Of all the things I thought a dragon would ask for, sweets weren’t one of them. “You eat pies?” “No, I shove them up my ass,” he growled. “Yes, I eat them.

“I want to hang my coat next to your door and place my boots at your entryway, so anyone who comes to see you knows that there’s a man in your life. I want to place my clothes in your dresser so our scents mix together.”

he had a voice that bathed you in sunshine after a cold rain.

You smell like old cheese and a mother’s regret.”

“Every woman should carry a weapon.”

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