Her Moon, His Song
This is going to be nice, I just know it.
I spend hours cooking, snacking, reading, and it feels like a dream. My fae romance novel takes me to a land that doesn’t resemble my life and I’m so happy to lose myself in it. I’m reading along happily when I come across a word that strikes me dead. Mates.
Great. Just what I was trying to forget about.
I put it down and pull out the other book I brought, a historical fiction novel. No mates here, no way.
Dinnertime creeps around and I spend a while making a nice risotto with a side salad and garlic bread. It’s so good it borders on s*x.
Bab Populer