Tangled in Tinsel (The More the Merrier, #1)

by Trilina Pucci

“I’m knee-deep in tinsel and red balls.” My sister snorts from the other end. “It’s better than blue ones.”

Oh fuck. I’ve fallen into Reed’s dick sand, sucked into the serious hotness this guy exudes. I’m lost forever, like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Cock.

Netflix dares to ask if I’m still watching the show I’ve been binging. Yes, I am, Netflix. It’s okay to have free time like four days a week. And on Saturdays. Shut up.

“Samantha Gabriella Thomas. You better clarify that statement”—her voice raises—“or I’m calling Mom and telling her you’re getting Eiffel Towered. And that you’re not even in Paris.”

“Say what now? Is the beast going to let Belle borrow his clothes? Don’t go falling for me, Cole. Because I’m more like a perverted Cinderella. I expire on Sunday at midnight, and I’m taking my shoes with me.”

Jesus, I don’t even know what’s happening anymore. But call me Oliver Twist because please sir, can I have some more.