Featherbed (Vino & Veritas, #1)

by Annabeth Albert

Hot chicken farmer was hot angry chicken farmer, and it was all directed at me. “What are you doing to my chickens?”

In contrast to the mother, who was almost larger than my first Manhattan apartment, each piglet was smaller than a loaf of bread.

now I was looking forward to seeing him again too. Maybe there was no harm in enjoying his company. And maybe the new piglets would sprout wings and start zooming around

Maybe there was no harm in enjoying his company. And maybe the new piglets would sprout wings and start zooming around the barn.

Big, built guys were not my usual flavor at all, but Finn was like a loaded burger after years of poached fish, a craving I couldn’t seem to shut off.

Life was full enough of hardship and unexpected heartbreak. It wasn’t too much to ask my fictional escapes to not be all doom and gloom.

And he cooks, I could practically hear my mother crowing, and for once, I agreed with her.

Finn was like the month of June personified, sunshine and warmth that made flavors more intense, moments more meaningful, and the whole world sunny and bright.