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412 pages, ebook
First published July 1, 2015
Wedding-dress designer Jenny Tate understands the happily-ever-after business, yet somehow she's still involved in her ex-husband's life.
Jenny trades the Manhattan skyline for her hometown up the Hudson.
Her timing couldn't be more perfect, since Rachel will need her younger sister. Her idyllic marriage has just fallen to pieces in spectacular fashion after she discovers her husband sexting with one of his colleagues. Second chances aren't in Rachel's nature, but the desire for an intact family has her rethinking her stance on adultery, much to Jenny's surprise.
Leo - that's his name. Leo Killian, a nice Irish name.
Oh dear. That's a good size glass in his hand and the liquid is clear. I'm betting it's not water. A bottle of Grey Goose on the coffee table confirms my Sherlockian suspicion.
Lizst's Hungarian Rhapsody Number Two.
"Sean, I liked Sean."
"Kristan often tells stories of loss and does so with verisimilitude. This is in part due, perhaps, to her personal history. Her father was killed by a drunk driver when he was 47 and Kristan was 23. Her mother never remarried and the theme of losing a great love and being afraid to risk such heartbreak again permeates many of Kristan’s books."
“Leo gets up and glances at the ceiling. "Call someone about that light. I just moved here myself and don't know anyone. Oh, and could you have him stop down at my place? My toaster doesn't work unless I plug it in the hallway."
I look at him for a second. "You blew a fuse. That's probably why my light won't go on."
"Ah. Fascinating."
"Where's the fuse box?"
"What's a fuse box?"
"Are you serious? How did you get this job?"
"I already told you. Good looks and charm.”
“Can I open the van door?" he asks.
I nod. He slides it open, and the girls all fall silent immediately at the sight of a stranger.
"You must be the Puke Sisters," he says.
"You not funny," Rose says, and her own comment makes her laugh, then puke again.
"You're gross," Gus says.”
“You deserve a husband who'd cut off his own dick before he'd cheat on you, Rach. You do."
"Maybe we can put that in my Match.com profile," I suggest, hiccuping on a sob.”
"I wish in one sharp, abrupt swell, that I could stay. What a beautiful word that is. Stay with me. Stay home. Stay alive."Stay writing, Kristan Higgins.