Kristin Rae
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October 2009
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https://www.goodreads.com/kristinrae
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Wish You Were Italian (If Only . . ., #2)
3 editions
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published
2014
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What You Always Wanted (If Only . . ., #8)
4 editions
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published
2016
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If Only . . . (7 Book Series)
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Kristin’s Recent Updates
Kristin wants to read 20 books in the 2023 Reading Challenge
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The Bodyguard
by Katherine Center (Goodreads Author) Goodreads Choice Awards Nominee in Best Romance |
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As a former figure skater and coach, I was thrilled to read a skating story, especially from such a talented and kind soul like Anita Saxena! My official blurb: This is the sports story the YA world has been missing. The Price of Ice has it all: a de ...more |
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Kristin has completed the 2022 Reading Challenge
Kristin has
completed their goal of reading 10 books for the 2022 Reading Challenge!
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Kristin has completed the 2021 Reading Challenge
Kristin has
completed their goal of reading 15 books for the 2021 Reading Challenge!
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“Did you already forget how to promise?” I worm my pinkie around his and squeeze.
He squeezes back and lowers our joined hands to the bed. My heartbeat is strong in my ears. Do I pull away first? Do I wait for him to? What if he doesn’t? What if we fall asleep like this?
“I promise I don’t write mushy, girly stuff,” he says. “I just like to keep track of what’s going on, you know? The places I go, the things I find. The people I meet.”
I could be imagining it, but the hold on my hand seems to be tighter.
“I know one day I’ll want to look back,” he continues, “and I don’t trust my memory alone to remember everything. What’s important to me right now might not be later, but that doesn’t mean I want to forget it.” He yawns and his eyes get watery, tired.
I fight the temptation to yawn myself. “I think you’ve just made an excellent case for diaries. Maybe I’ll start keeping one.”
He yawns again and his grip on my pinkie loosens, but we’re still mostly hooked together. “It looked like you already were,” he says in a fading whisper. His eyes drift closed.
I stare at his relaxed face, pale in the dim light. Nearly asleep, he looks vulnerable. Like I could tell him anything I wanted and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
When I first met him, I thought he was attractive but not in an omg-he’s-the-most-gorgeous-thing-I’ve-ever-seen way. But somehow, now that I know him, how his light brown eyes can sear right through me, how the corner of his mouth turns up when he laughs, how he blushes when he’s caught wearing a headband, I can see that he really is beautiful.
His hand twitches and his breathing slows, deep and heavy. In an instant he’s fallen asleep, and I’ve fallen even harder for him.”
― Wish You Were Italian
He squeezes back and lowers our joined hands to the bed. My heartbeat is strong in my ears. Do I pull away first? Do I wait for him to? What if he doesn’t? What if we fall asleep like this?
“I promise I don’t write mushy, girly stuff,” he says. “I just like to keep track of what’s going on, you know? The places I go, the things I find. The people I meet.”
I could be imagining it, but the hold on my hand seems to be tighter.
“I know one day I’ll want to look back,” he continues, “and I don’t trust my memory alone to remember everything. What’s important to me right now might not be later, but that doesn’t mean I want to forget it.” He yawns and his eyes get watery, tired.
I fight the temptation to yawn myself. “I think you’ve just made an excellent case for diaries. Maybe I’ll start keeping one.”
He yawns again and his grip on my pinkie loosens, but we’re still mostly hooked together. “It looked like you already were,” he says in a fading whisper. His eyes drift closed.
I stare at his relaxed face, pale in the dim light. Nearly asleep, he looks vulnerable. Like I could tell him anything I wanted and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
When I first met him, I thought he was attractive but not in an omg-he’s-the-most-gorgeous-thing-I’ve-ever-seen way. But somehow, now that I know him, how his light brown eyes can sear right through me, how the corner of his mouth turns up when he laughs, how he blushes when he’s caught wearing a headband, I can see that he really is beautiful.
His hand twitches and his breathing slows, deep and heavy. In an instant he’s fallen asleep, and I’ve fallen even harder for him.”
― Wish You Were Italian
“Room here,” she says, proceeding to draw a line of the route. It doesn’t look too far.
I stand, taking the map from her, and manage to get out a comprehensible “Grazie,” which my Rick Steves’ Phrase Book says is actually pronounced graht-seeay. Who knew? She smiles again and everything seems to be perfect until I lose my mind and give her a slight bow. I’m in Europe, not Asia.”
― Wish You Were Italian
I stand, taking the map from her, and manage to get out a comprehensible “Grazie,” which my Rick Steves’ Phrase Book says is actually pronounced graht-seeay. Who knew? She smiles again and everything seems to be perfect until I lose my mind and give her a slight bow. I’m in Europe, not Asia.”
― Wish You Were Italian
“I stare at his relaxed face, pale in the dim light. Nearly asleep, he looks vulnerable. Like I could tell him anything I wanted and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
When I first met him, I thought he was attractive but not in an omg-he’s-the-most-gorgeous-thing-I’ve-ever-seen way. But somehow, now that I know him, how his light brown eyes can sear right through me, how the corner of his mouth turns up when he laughs, how he blushes when he’s caught wearing a headband, I can see that he really is beautiful.
His hand twitches and his breathing slows, deep and heavy. In an instant he’s fallen asleep, and I’ve fallen even harder for him.”
― Wish You Were Italian
When I first met him, I thought he was attractive but not in an omg-he’s-the-most-gorgeous-thing-I’ve-ever-seen way. But somehow, now that I know him, how his light brown eyes can sear right through me, how the corner of his mouth turns up when he laughs, how he blushes when he’s caught wearing a headband, I can see that he really is beautiful.
His hand twitches and his breathing slows, deep and heavy. In an instant he’s fallen asleep, and I’ve fallen even harder for him.”
― Wish You Were Italian
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Whatever your age is, if you love reading young adult fiction, then I want to know what you are reading! Let's exchange ideas of good reads, nice idea ...more
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Eugenia (Genie In A Book)
Dec 09, 2013 02:52PM

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