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As long as the squirrels got out okay, of course. She wasn’t a complete monster. “To Nicole’s upcoming mental breakdown!” Ashley toasted cheerfully. “To Nicole’s house turning into a sinkhole!” Miri raised her glass. “To Nicole finding new friends!”
Anemia and ripping up old carpet, the perfect weekend combo for a stressed-out single woman.
Clearly, they had all had too much to drink if becoming a naughty juice box for loan repayment was on the table.
The last time they had let her pitch an idea after this much tequila, they had ended up blackout drunk trying to go whale watching in a rowboat… and they didn’t even live near an ocean.
One monster boyfriend wasn’t enough? Drunk-Nicole was desperate enough for dick to request her own harem? Drunk-Nicole was clearly delusional.
“Holy shit, look at that tongue!” Ashley ripped the phone out of her hand and stared. “Girl, you have got to go on a date with him.” “He’s part lizard!” “He can be part gecko and try to sell me car insurance for all I care. Imagine what that tongue could be doing to your bits right now!”
Romance wasn’t just dead—it was dead, embalmed, and buried somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle.
“Why do they get a second date?” The werewolf’s words were tight, but his hands were gentle as he settled her wrap over her shoulders. “Because they asked for one,” Nicole said smoothly. She turned around and patted his arm. “You didn’t.” He gaped. “But—” “Dibs on tomorrow night!” Drake called from the kitchen. "You can't dibs—” Wes argued. "Just did!”
Every inch of her made Wes dream of dirty things that would make her scream. The wolf inside him howled to bend Nicole over and fill her with cum until she was round with his pups.
“Who do I have to make out with to get some decent coffee?” she asked innocently. Five monsters stood at once and beelined for the coffee maker.
Of course, if they failed… well, Drake had always thought he would do rather well in prison.
