My Father's Best Friend, My Obsession
Instead, he leaned back slightly, his attention shifting toward something far more comfortable.
“Your book,” he said.
“You read it?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“I did,” he confirmed.
“And?”
He smiled faintly, tilting his head slightly as if considering his words carefully. “You don’t just write romance,” he said slowly.
I blinked.
“You write conflict.” Something about that made me sit a little straighter.
“Your characters feel real,” he continued, “they’re not polished, they’re not perfect, they’re… human.”