FOR THE LOVE OF APRIL FRENCH
“I loved this book for its bouncy, relatable voice, its casually inclusive world (which exists in our regular, terrible, non-inclusive society, but triumphs over it), and the swoony connection between the MCs. I also loved reading a smart, attractive heroine who is nevertheless unrepentantly insecure…
Basically, this book gave me every last one of the Intense Romance Feelings I crave. Days later I’m still thinking fondly of the characters like they’re old friends.”
“Why do you think you’re in love with her?”
He stopped for a moment to consider this. He didn’t think; he knew. He knew because of the great inchoate no in his chest when he realized she was hurting; he knew because he was restraining himself from going to her right now.
He knew because his house would never be finished without her in it.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Dennis. I have such wonders to show you.”
He could feel the warmth of her hand through his clothing and he liked it. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, feeling her pulse leaping there, and leaned towards her. Her hand pressed into his shoulder as he tightened the distance between them. “I would love that.”
She tilted closer until her pink—very pink—lips were inches away from his, and said in a low, sensual voice: “Barbecue… is not when you cook in the backyard with your friends. And it’s not, I’m sorry, whatever your grandma made…”
“Barbecue is a special miracle that happens to a cow or a pig—most places it’s a pig, but in Texas they like cows—over the course of several hours. Brisket. Sausage. Pulled pork. Short ribs. The sauce is optional. The smoke does the work. There’s also—” The voice, somehow, was still making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “—potato salad.”
So get out there and love each other, folks.
Make mistakes. Get hurt. Trust your friends--and I’m telling you right now that I’m your friend, ride or die--to pick you up, dust you off, and make you laugh about it. Because love is real, and it happens everywhere. It even happens here.
So what if you gave it a chance?
“What restraints do you have?”
“Zip ties, nylon rope, jute rope, silly toy handcuffs, realistic handcuffs…” she reeled off.
“Someone is a closet bondage slut,” he observed.
“Closet?” She dragged a large suitcase out from under the bed and dropped it on the counter. “I’m insulted.”
