Spicy Little Curses

by J.T. Geissinger

Unfortunately, I’m a sucker for the tall, dark, and devilish type. The more red flags and pitchforks they’re waving, the better.

If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s when someone underestimates my intelligence. Especially when that someone is male and inconveniently hot.

It’s a time-tested truth that the best-looking men are always the absolute worst.

for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I wanted the truth anymore. I had the sinking feeling that once I found it, I’d wish I hadn’t.

Nothing says “great idea” like falling for a man who might be my own personal grim reaper.

“You’re nothing but a pip-squeak with a big mouth and a bad attitude, like a Chihuahua.” “That would be a much better insult if Chihuahuas weren’t my favorite dog.”

She tasted like sweet dreams and bad decisions. And I was already in too deep.

The only thing worse than a smart-ass woman was a smart-ass woman who was right.

“You wear your fate like an ill-fitted cloak, child. It clings to you in places and slips from you in others. Your future is not yet decided.”

It figured I’d fall for a witch. My taste in women always ran toward the feral ones.