My Phony Valentine (Holidays with Hart, #1)

by Courtney Walsh

People don’t really speak like this in real life, do they? As if their rear ends were planted squarely at the top of their neck and talking out of the hole that’s there?

Most people outgrow their bullying once they graduate high school, but it turns out that’s not true for boxed-wine sociopaths like Margot.

It’s not the kind of smile that would alert the paparazzi, but it’s the kind of smile that a person could hold onto. The kind that could make, say, a man in a tough spot hope that things could turn around again. Like an anchor. A safe space to land.

the truth is, most days I wouldn’t mind someone taking care of me a little. Adulting is hard. Even at twenty-eight, I haven’t mastered it. There are moments when I don't want to be strong, or independent, or responsible. There are moments I want someone else to take the risk, or make the decision, or tell me what to do.

means. People don’t always let us become who we are. They try to keep us in the box of who we were.

That’s the danger of wanting to be loved—you start to see possibilities everywhere.

Sometimes there are moments when someone says something to you, and as soon as they say it, you’re awash with a calm you didn’t have before. A single sentence from a doctor telling you the scan is clear, a family member leaning in behind you, telling you “you got this” when you’re looking at the empty building you just bought. This is one of those moments. And I believe him.