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This was Vermont. We’re all grunge-happy, ice cream royalty, organic farming, and woodland animal safety.
his attitude that stinks like burnt coffee and poor decisions.
threw myself at men and alcohol in hopes to sew up the hole in my heart. Alcohol became a patch instead of a stitch,
in one of the most possessive moves ever—his hand on her lower back. It’s a sign of “we go together,”
don’t know what it is about her, but I want her nails to dig in and her heart to open.
I’ve never had someone just grab me and kiss the stuffing out of me. He kissed me like I was his first kiss and last breath all in one.
“Good people make bad decisions all the time.” She shrugs. “I believe in second chances and don’t want to make a preconceived notion.
We both moan as he continues to hold my hand like he’s holding on for dear life,
I know how he looks when he enters me, his expression always full of wonder at our connection.
I realize the truth. I’ve been content, like a steady stream instead of rolling rivers and crashing oceans. I’ve been moving forward at a trickling pace when I really want to rumble, tumble, and refresh. I want to be happy.
“It’s a sign,” I quietly echo. Don’t lose faith in me, sweet.
Was it really that simple? Was sex all we had? It wasn’t. We laughed. We’d argue a little. We’d kiss a lot. I don’t think I’ve smiled as much in years as I had in a week with Jake. It felt . . . good.
My feelings had been so fierce and fast for her.
Rita Kaplan just asked me to join her for coffee—on the plush peach couch. I just want her to invite me to love her next.
“I call you sweet because you said you weren’t my sweetheart. As soon as you give me your heart, I’m happy to change
No one owes anybody anything. We owe what we do to ourselves first. Service to others second.
His scent of sawdust and cinnamon overpowered everything in the cab,
