Wrong Number, Right Guy (The Bourbon Street Boys, #1)

by Elle Casey

Sis: Argh! Not breast sling! I’m going to kill the dick who shit on my ass because it’s going all jello. I’m laughing too hard to stop at this point. Sis (again): Shit storm! Epic shit storm of autocorrect madness! I’m taking the butt HEADS to the arcade and I’m going to kill the dog who shit on my grass because it’s going all yellow. Please just shit me cow. Sis (once more): SHOOT ME NOW, NOT SHIT ME COW. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU AUTOCORRECT??? WHY ARE YOU SO FILTHY??? I can barely press the right keys, I’m laughing so hard. Me: Call their daddy and take a pill. I’ll be over later. Sis: I need a new phone. I’m going to the slut to buy one. Me: That should be an interesting transaction. Does she take credit cards? Sis: STORE NOT SLUT. And I’m going to go ride off the autocorrect too. Me: lol. Ride that mother, big sis. Ride it hard. Sis: Shut up. I’m going to get rid of it, not ride it. Frigging automobiles.