Is A Yankee-type Guy- The... — My Only Bitchy Cousin

Aunt Patty, who had just driven four hours through Atlanta traffic, looked like she was considering using those discrete units to commit a felony.

And yet, every Christmas, there he was. Sitting at my grandmother’s dining table, correcting everyone’s grammar. My Only Bitchy Cousin Is a Yankee-Type Guy- The...

But I didn’t have her patience. I was a feral, barefoot girl who climbed pecan trees and fought with snapping turtles. Bradley and I were oil and water—except the oil was also complaining about the water’s pH balance. Aunt Patty, who had just driven four hours