Poppy Trolls Novels & Stories

Blake crosses his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “She doesn’t exist.” I pull out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. “Every girl has got a type, and I’m most of them.” “That’s what makes this really fun,” Carter adds, his grin widening. “Because this girl is immune to your bullsht.” I blow smoke into the air, intrigued despite myself. “Fine, I will humor you idiots. Who is the target?” “Skylar McKee,” Blake says, like the name is supposed to mean something.