Shira Glassman

“replied. “Back to that first moment I knew I loved you, the first time you beat me during our sword fighting lessons.” “It was raining,” she remembered. “You stood there, hair wet, water dripping everywhere, staring at me, confused and triumphant... You were an avalanche.” After five years they had grown used to kissing with the cloth mask in the way. He smelled the sweat of her busy afternoon on it. “I remember those old days...” His fingers were in her hair now. “I, bored and frustrated in the countryside, and you, proud and eager, but rough around the edges...” “I”


Shira Glassman, A Harvest of Ripe Figs
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A Harvest of Ripe Figs (Mangoverse Book 3) A Harvest of Ripe Figs by Shira Glassman
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