Strung Along (Cherry Peak, #1)

by Hannah Cowan

There are few things I hate in this world as much as a thong. Between the string trying to crawl inside of me with every shift of my thighs and the perpetual feeling of having a wedgie, I’m usually stuffing any I’ve been peer pressured into buying into the back of my drawer. Panty lines? I embrace them. They’re better than having my butt cheeks flossed.

who makes their wedding guests send their outfits for approval? I get wanting your wedding to be perfect, but holy. That’s a bit much, if you ask me.

brush her aside, then. I’m dancin’ with my woman, Rita. End of conversation.” She inhales sharply, glancing up from her screen. “Your woman?” I straighten, crossing my arms. “Yeah, my woman.

“I’ve never been one to believe in any sort of afterlife. No God and pearly gates. But hell if I’m not considerin’ it now.” He swallows, staring straight at me. “’Cause there’s no fuckin’ way my daughter didn’t send you here to be with her boy.”