There Are No Saints (Sinners, #1)

by Sophie Lark

I’m too easily irritated. If a guy eats a slice of pizza and then tries to kiss me, if he makes a clicking sound when he swallows, if a hangnail scratches my skin, if he even fucking thinks about kissing my ears, my pussy clamps shut like a bear trap.

This is the realest thing I've ever read

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” she says. Then she kisses me on the mouth.

And I realize . . . she’s everything I dreamed of and more. More vengeful. More strategic. More effective. More fucked up.

Scott Street.

Pheobe bridgers reference?

“Absolutely I do. He disrespected you. Put his hands on you. I’d kill him for much less.”