The Courting of Bristol Keats (The Courting of Bristol Keats, #1)

by Mary E. Pearson

Home. Even now, it was a hesitant word on her lips, foreign and new, a word she toyed with in fits and starts. A word she was afraid to love. Run. Move on. Those were the words ingrained in her like dirt beneath her nails.

What Bristol’s little sister lacked in stature, she made up for in volume.

She felt everything passionately and didn’t hold back.

Life wasn’t always about change but sometimes about sameness. And sometimes sameness made you look beneath the surface, look at the bones that held it all together—and the flaws that could be its undoing. Change was a distraction. Sameness demanded reflection.