Ri ♡

95%
Flag icon
One year later, as our daughter Grace rested in my arms, Piper stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching as I rocked our baby girl to sleep. “You were right,” she whispered, her dark eyes sparkling with the moonlight. “It was never the cake.” I smiled at my wife and kissed Grace’s forehead. Magic.
Tragic (Lark Cove, #3)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview