Homecoming In November (The Calendar Girls Book 3) - Plot & Excerpts
I hadn’t felt this kind of covert excitement since my first nips of brandy from Uncle Larry’s liquor stash when I was twelve. At this stage of my recovery, so much euphoria could not be good for me. Still, we slipped inside like two hormone-induced teens looking for a place to be alone, and I quickly relocked the door behind us before turning on the lights. “Nice,” Max said as he took in the surroundings. I, meanwhile, took in him. He was prettier in person, if that were possible. Taller, too. Dark hair skimmed his shoulders, framing a perfectly sculpted face with just a bit of rugged-looking stubble, beer bottle green eyes, and lush lips made to kiss a woman senseless. He looked at me then, caught me staring, and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Cozy,” he said, apparently used to strange women ogling him with their tongues lolling. “Very Jane Austen. Or Henry James.” “Thanks.”
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