Bullshit is spelled ‘You’re a werewolf’.

First, my parents tell me I’m going to be “checking into the Red Roof Inn” every month, and now, they tell me I’m a werewolf?!

Add to that I need to pick a mate and enter into some wolfy marriage—NOPE.

Not.

Going.

To.

Happen.

They can’t make me.

Everyone thinks this is just a phase but nineteen is the new two—and I’m going to show them how terrible I can be.

Buckle up, bitches, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.