The Trouble with Trying to Date a Murderer (Murder Sprees and Mute Decrees #1)

by Jennifer Cody

Once upon a time, a mute boy fell in love with an unapologetic murderer. Ok, it happened last Thursday

when one of my customers tried to get him with a sword—like, where did he even get a fucking sword?—the

confidence is sexy. Full stop. I don’t care what you look like or if you have a bad personality or if you’re homely. Confidence. Is. Sexy.

Besides, that jerk was killed by the FBI in the first mass murder I witnessed.

Love how he’s so chil about it all

If he weren’t the love of my life, I’d be a bit more piqued, but I guess I’m just glad he’s alive.

Not that I blame the man; he doesn’t know what a catch I am yet. He’s been the one doing all the mating dance stuff, and I’ve just been watching from the sidelines like a mook.

Le sigh.

When I return to the couch, instead of sitting where I was, I sit in Fox’s lap, wrapping one arm around his neck and pointing to my mouth with the other, puckering my lips.

Dude you’re forward looking

Fox says nothing, and since I can’t speak, I don’t either,

“I’m trying to decide why you’ve never been afraid of me and what kind of person pushes a severed head off their lap before demanding money for clothes.”

So I already had two massacres under my belt when you showed up to the diner.

Yeah no biggie

Wow. I should probably do some belly button staring to figure out where my moral compass went.

Yes, I like puns. Get with the program; I’m like the ultimate dad joke waiting to happen.

“Diamonds. Cufflinks, pocket watch, tie pin, collar chain, pocket brooch, and engagement ring.” Fox gives me a level look. “The ring is for later.”

“Protect the jewels; they're almost as valuable as me.” Pretty sure the receipt in the bag has the monetary value of my jewels printed on it and it doesn’t say “priceless.”

Competence is sexy, and I just can’t bring myself to withhold from myself the gift of watching you eviscerate a man.

Romantic Romily

Me: I am getting laid tonight, so if anyone needs to die, they’ll have to wait for Fox until tomorrow or die by someone else’s hand.

Mute boy trains the silent type to talk in less than a week. Amazing.

“Please have Bellamy Jones’s residence packed up and move his belongings to my home. Sell all the furniture except the tables.”

LOOOOOOL

It’s like taking a job that includes room and board and then your employer suddenly decides you’re family forever and ever and never lets you quit.

Fox puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a snugglehug. Don’t look at my word like that; it’s a valid description. I reserve the right to make up important words.

And Gregory, unless we ask you a question, keep your damn mouth shut or I will occupy it with less courtesy than Santanos affords you. Understand?”

What? That’s a legitimate descriptive-word technique for the verbal, why can’t I use it? Don’t be prejudiced against the nonverbal. We can add the ee sound too. We just can’t make the ee sound.

I nod, straining to hold up the weight of his weapons. Steve Rogers I am not.

I can say that; it’s my disability, and I can be as un-PC as I want to be when it’s convenient for me.

I love you. I want you for the rest of our long lives. That is what I am feeling. Just love and longing for you.

We’re going to save a fortune in lube!

Isn’t fictional lube free?