Won’t you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?
“The Bachelor” by Carly Philips
P is for Pain: which is what Sheridan felt when she realised that the driving plot device of the entire book was not the romance, not bromance, not über villains, but panties. PAN-I kid you not because I ain’t that cruel- TIES. Crocheted ones at that. What decent lady would want to swathe her nether regions with a tea cosy you ask? Well, apparently half the goddamn town of Yorkshire Falls that’s who! Now ordinarily Sheridan doesn’t have a problem with panties. In fact, she believes in wearing them when getting out of limousines, hummers, and whenever one is wearing an ultra short dress. Sheridan freely admits that she never fully recovered from the image file Lola had sent her not too long back, of Britney’s unpruned secret garden. * BLERGH * However, when one is within a five mile radius of an alpha male, the aforementioned should be ignored. Feel free to experience the true extent of the day/night breeze.