More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
For the plus-size queens dreaming of being hunted by a masked psychopath, who thinks your favorite romance book is a how-to manual. X says hi. And he’ll see you in your bedroom. (Possibly from outside your window, but hey, details.)
Oh my God. They were insane. They were an insane murder duo, who had probably escaped from some sort of asylum or Saint View Prison.
“Some mistakes might have been made tonight.”
The female rage inside me was real. These men could go to hell if they thought I was just going to be another statistic. A woman murdered by a man.
I didn’t know you could fall in love with someone in the space it took for them to pitch a rolling pin at your head.
“You call it stalking, I call it courting.”
“Oh, girly-pop. I meant all vaginas in general. Not yours specifically. I’m sure yours sparkles like Edward Cullen.”
It really did. He was all golden retriever energy. Except for the whole ability to brutally murder someone thing.
“Okay, so if you want to make…Omelet…your girl, you just need to do nice things for her.” “I did! I brought her flowers.” I cocked my head to one side. “She didn’t like that?” “She tried to Mace me.”
I had pinned to my refrigerator with a magnet that said, Let’s get takeout. The fridge is for body parts.
“I’m getting ice cream from a murderer. I don’t think there’s enough therapy hours available in the world to unpack this sort of trauma.”
“Yoga didn’t work. Grayson said hugs might. I need a hug right now to deal with the mortal wound Whip just inflicted on
“Why is this my life? Why? I could be sunning myself on a beach in Florida right now. But no. I’m here with Pukey the Ice Cream Man, with some random guy’s precum all over my hands.”
