Hidden Roots (Citrus Cove, #3)

by Clio Evans

Hidden roots always get dug up, darlin’.

He barked out a laugh. “You drooled all over my arm, too. But even with the drool and a CPAP machine, you’d still be sleeping beauty.”

Ours was the type of love that grew stronger like the Harlow oak tree, with roots that stretched and healed. It was the kind of love they wrote stories about, the kind that made us stupid. It was the kind that made us cry, the kind that made us laugh. The kind that made us change. It was the kind of love that would last forever.