I had the metabolism of a hummingbird on crack.
Seducing him in the tub smelling of vinegar was out of the question. There had to be some boundaries.
What's that?" "That's my attack poodle.
The monster licked his lips, long lines of whiskers twitching, and spoke in a deep growl. "Pretty, aren't I?" Curran. In midform. I broke from his gaze. "Adorable.
Screwy," I said. "Is that a medical term?" "Of course.
Bad days, good days, ‘I’ll cut you if you look at me the wrong way’ days. I’ll take them all.