Stud in the Stacks (Girl Band #2)

by Pippa Grant

now they’re both staring at me, speechless. Possibly like I’ve sprouted dancing penises out my ears.

Not for the first time this week, I tell myself that if I ran the world, the reward for social awkwardness, horrible dates with the wrong men, and having to face exes would be hot, sweaty jungle sex.

I pause outside my door to listen to the end of a chapter in Lucy Score’s Pretend You’re Mine.

little grumpapotamuses

“Venerated journalism and egotistical dickism have never been mutually exclusive. He is a dick.

What did your mother do, Mr. Sampson?” “She was a homemaker,” poop suit says. “Happy to do it.” “Did you ever ask your mother if she was happy to be a homemaker, or do you just assume she didn’t have any greater aspirations? Wasn’t she raising you about the same time Katherine Johnson was calculating trajectory paths for NASA?”

“There’s nothing weak or wrong about hope and love.”