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Six foot four, two hundred and two pounds, twenty-three wins, zero draws, zero losses. Zero losses. This guy was freaking born for MMA.
"That would be hard," the first cop said, "seeing as Madison Kate Danvers was just murdered inside The Laughing Clown tonight."
"So... not going to be creating your own reverse harem out of your new living arrangements then?"
It wasn’t until I stood underneath an admittedly chilly stream of water that I even realized my father's gate code spelled KATE.
If I'd been a bigger person, I'd have taken pity on them and made everyone a flat white. What a shame I was petty as fuck.
“MK: one, shady fucker: nil,” Bree snickered under her breath as we left the cafeteria with our heads held high. “This is going to be so fun.”
"Note to self: Drunk Madison Kate is less combative than sober Madison Kate."
"I take that statement back," he murmured. "Drunk Madison Kate is six million times more combative. Good to freaking know."
It was a shame they'd tried to screw me so hard a year ago because I might have just found my soulmates.
"I find time loops fascinating," he murmured, confirming my suspicions about the masks being a deliberate nod to a romance novel.
