Nine Perfect Strangers Book Review Novelas e Histórias

Beside me, I saw the corner of Cassius’s mouth twitch as he fought, and failed, to suppress a grin. “I dream of it, sometimes,” the vendor sighed, clasping her hands to her chest and gazing at some unseen horizon. “A dashing stranger sweeping me away from Glens Crossing for a life of adventure.” Her focus snapped back to us. “This is the newest in the series. Simply divine.” I rested a hand on the book, a convenient prop. “Speaking of strangers,” I began, flipping a page, “have you noticed any… unusual travelers? Perhaps someone who seemed a bit out of place?”

I lean my head to the side watching him pull a black shirt over his head and the fact that he has the body of a god should never ever influence me or have any physical effect on my body. "Nothing." He mutter stepping into his jeans and pulling them up over his boxers. "I am taking you home." "Good." I nod dragging my eyes away from the stranger who calls himself Arthur, who was standing way too close to me. Why did I pass out like that? I could have made a scene in the coffee shop. There were enough people to stop him from getting his way with me. I could have fought harder. Kicked him, hit him, bite him if necessary. Anything. I could have done anything, but I froze. Scared of all the what

The scarf was on the hook. And the stranger who had stayed was standing beside him in the kitchen in the October evening, cooking dinner in the warm ordinary extraordinary inhabited life that they had chosen and were choosing and would continue to choose, one attended day at a time. The door had been left open four years ago on a rainy night. Neither of them had closed it. They never would. End of Chapter One Hundred

He’d handed me a book three weeks ago and said you’ll like the third act and he’d been completely right, which was annoying and also one of my favorite things about him. I had my laptop open, theoretically working on the paper due next week for my criminal justice program. In practice I had written one paragraph and then gotten distracted watching the two of them exist in the same space with the specific ease of people who had stopped being strangers and weren’t quite brothers but were something in the neighborhood.

Yet she kept riding the late train. On Friday afternoon, something strange happened. She slipped into her favorite little bookstore after work, seeking distraction among the dusty shelves. As she reached for a worn copy of *The Secret History*, a tall man with a face cap did the same. “After you,” he said softly. Their eyes met for a brief second. A strange jolt passed through her..... half recognition, half heat but it vanished before she could grasp it. He looked like the stranger from the train or was it just her mind? He smelled faintly of cedar and rain. Just another handsome stranger.

Her face was soft and pretty, the kind of face people compared to a lily. But her eyes were sharp and calculating. And her smile made the hair on my arms stand up. I couldn't exactly refuse, so I let her walk me down the corridor. The second we reached the bathroom door, she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "Ada, want to make a little bet with me? Let's both fall down at the same time. We'll see who Professor cares about more." Her stiletto came down on my broken leg. Pain ripped through me. I went white, cold sweat sheeting down my back, and I crumpled onto the floor.