Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“No. Come on, you know what I mean. Something that inspires fear.” “Real estate market crash.” “Okay, maybe less fear and more…awe.

“I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “The way you stared at my tits.” Silence. Then, instead of the I’m sorry or Go to fucking sleep I expect, he says, “I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “How spectacular your tits are.”

We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.” “Don’t worry,” Misery reassures me, “every day I drill into her that we’ll be disappointed in anything but a DJing career.”

“You know. The issue we discussed with Carter. The one where you look like a medieval peasant who’s about to die of the whooping cough.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If anything happens to me, what do you do?” “Buy a black veil, pretend I’m a widow, cash in on your life insurance.”

“As in, my smell brings all the Weres to the yard?”