Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)

by Hannah Grace

“To love is to burn, to be on fire.” —Marianne Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility (1995)

“I don’t think I have any red flags…” “Oh, my sweet summer child.” He laughs. “You’re a straight white man. That’s your red flag.”

“What’s your beef with Jane? Poetry and Austen hater? I’m beginning to agree with your friend Halle,” I tease. “I don’t have beef with her; I just think Darcy is a dick.” I can’t help how loud the laugh is that launches out of me, because of all the things I was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. “You’re laughing, but I’m right. Any man who says, ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me,’ deserves to be thrown from his horse into a pond, not to get the girl.”

It’s no secret that I love books. I love stories about people I don’t know, and places I haven’t been to. I’ve lived a thousand lives between a thousand pages,