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This book is dedicated to autocorrect, for always dropping ducks where you least expect them. Duck you, autocorrelation.
“I wish I could say it was lovely to meet you all, but frankly I’ve had more pleasant experiences stepping in dog shit.”
“Callum Buckingham the Fourth thinks I have a bad attitude? Whatever will I do? Gosh, this will make me lose sleep, for sure.”
“I wouldn’t make it quiet or easy.” Heath chuckled, a delicious sound that I really wanted to hate. “I’d expect nothing less. You look like you’d be a screamer.”
“I’m so flattered, Royce, but I’d rather jump into a pond of starving piranhas while wearing a suit entirely made of bananas. Oh look, there’s my friend.”
“Are we inducting Ashley?” Carter asked and I needed to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. “She’s an Essex now, after all, and legacy dictates—” “She is not an Essex,” Nate spat with palpable venom. “Neither is Carina, no matter what the marriage certificate says. She doesn’t get a free pass into the DBs just because my dad is cuntstruck.”
“Yep. Congratulations, Heathcliff, you just became my boyfriend.” Because not only would it infuriate Nate, it would possibly offer me some insight into the Devil’s Backbone Society. Heath’s eyes widened. “Um…” “In name only, of course, I’m not actually interested in dating you.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. His lips curled into a grin. “Fake dating? I love that trope. Count me in.”
mahogany
“You scared the fucking life out of me, Spark. Never, ever do that again.”
“Give me something to cling to as I suffer in silence while you fall in love with Heath.”
