I felt hot tears streaming down my cheeks at his words. Spoken so carelessly, with such shameless intent. He knew how I felt. How I had been feeling. How lost and alone and full of grief my days had been. Avery was not a friend. Not even a trusted acquaintance. But, he understood what I was going...
I can't believe how much I disliked this book. I've read every one of V.C. Andrews books, even the ones after her death... but I'm just now trying to read the last few years worth (perhaps 10ish- it's been a while) of new ones and I don't understand why they're trying to publish them under Andrew...