So This Is War (Vancouver Agitators, #5)

by Meghan Quinn

She reaches for the hem of my shirt, but I booty blast the air, backing that ass up so quick and folding over at the waist. “Penis,” I shout. “Huh?” “Uh, don’t touch my penis.” She stands back. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to suggest tucking your shirt in.”

There are two types of people in the world. People who let a piece of bacon slap their chin after biting into it, and people who like their bacon to turn into dust in their mouth after one bite. The floppy-bacon chin-slappers, those are the people you need to look out for. They’re the freaks. The wild ones. The type of person who thinks it’s funny to say things like . . . “Oh, long time no see” even though they saw you five minutes ago. I’d suggest detaching yourself from that type of person. They’re unsavory, untrustworthy, and loose cannons.