Dirty (Dive Bar, #1)

by Kylie Scott

I hit the ground hard. It hurt. So much for being plus-size. My extra padding hadn’t cushioned a damn thing. I rolled onto my back and lay in the long grass, wheezing like a pack-a-day smoker. Pain filled my world. Maybe I’d just die here. It was as nice a place as any.

“You touch any of my stuff?” he asked. “Take anything?” “Yes, your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe where I fit the TV.”

So this was what having friends involved. Maybe I should just get a pet rock or something. A plant, maybe. Anything incapable of answering back.