Bittersweet (True North, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

A fruit is a vegetable with looks and money. Plus, if you let fruit rot, it turns into wine, something Brussels sprouts never do. —P.J. O’Rourke

Knife work was soothing to me. Some people knitted. Some did yoga. I liked to cut things.

Yeah, it was official. I was going to be single for the rest of my fucking life. The guy who’d kill a pig in front of a pretty girl is the guy who will die lonely.

The minute Griff Shipley had taken off his shirt, my body turned traitor. And by the time he put his mouth on me, whatever self-restraint I’d had flew away on the sweet Vermont breeze.

Holy cannoli. I was cuddling the world’s grumpiest farmer.

Watching a hot guy drink good liquor was hot enough. But a hot guy who could make good liquor? Was there anyone sexier in the world? No there was not.

“We’ve eased it back from a hardcore-bang cider to a romantic tryst.

I was as good at resisting Griff Shipley as Homer Simpson was at resisting a donut.

After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relatives. —Oscar Wilde

I wanted that life, and I wanted this man. I wasn’t giving up. I was trading up.

“I love you, princess. You’re the sweet that balances out my natural tannins.”

Everything good in life can be explained by cider.”