Rosie and the Dreamboat (The Improbable Meet-Cute, #3)

by Sally Thorne

Bree looks like a nineties supermodel with her wet hair scraped back. I’m in my sea otter era.

All my almost-husbands out in the wild have met my gaze, then looked over at her. I would, too.

Frank booms in his big voice, “We call him Romeo because he’s a dreamy fucking dreamboat.” “Yeah, yeah, fuck right off, Frank, you day-old hot dog. But he’s right, Rosie. I’m a dreamboat. Picture it in your mind, how dreamy I am.”

“May I have his full name and date of birth?” Leo asks sweetly. “Social security, too, if possible? I need to commit a murder, please.”