Tip didn't usually bother with the . . . spicier parts of romance novels. Honestly, she didn't bother much with romances period except for pure schlock amusement value, but today?

Today she was all over that shit. The spicier the better.

She blamed it on the dramatic change in seasons. The sight of all those flowers set off weird, primitive, hormonal things, blah blah blah.

She looked up at Bill, doing lazy loops over her head, and sighed. "Sometimes I hate being a teenager."

[open]