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Autocorrect just autocorrected to autocunnilingus. I just told Tarzan I’m eating myself.
Her insecurity is getting to me. I want to fix it. Nana’s right. I get off on being someone’s hero. And I’m going to hero the shit out of saving Parker.
“You need a romance. A good one. Like…Wallbanger. Monster Prick. Or maybe Full Package.”
Well Hung. And another—Hard Wood. Oh, wow—there’s even—is that Fucked, or Pucked?
Words will never hurt me my ass. I don’t care if I totally fail at the dating game my entire life. But I will not fail a child.
I’m helping the public stand up to the ridiculous notion that fiction written and read primarily by women is somehow less worthy than any other fiction or literature.”
Favorite sexy fake fiancée read? Lauren Blakely’s Big Rock. Favorite fake fiancée heroine? Kimmie in Jamie Farrell’s Sugared. Sweetest? Rachel Harris’s Seven Day Fiancé.
Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me. One of my classic favorites.
Katie Reus has a few I’ve recommended to men before—or maybe paranormal, with Karen Marie Moning’s Darkfever. He’s here listening to his sister’s band play, so Selena Laurence’s LUSH rockers might not be out of the question. Or Lila Monroe’s Mr. Right Now. Lili Valente’s Bad Motherpuckers
Poppy Dunne’s Dating the Billionaire. “Can’t think of anything?”
“Southern Fried Blues,” I say. “Jamie Farrell. What’s your email address? I’ll gift you a copy.”
Carol Pavliska’s Color Me Crazy if it weren’t for him. Love that book.
Just pure affection. A mental I knew you had it in you, beautiful girl. You’re strong. You’re smart. No one can ever take that away.
“I didn’t want to think about you, so I pretended you were one of hundreds of jungle men who couldn’t resist me. Who all wanted to eat me and touch me and fuck me.”
I think this man understands me. For that alone, I could love him forever. In fact, I think I will.
