By Kristan Higgins
Divorce legal professional Harper James can't trap a holiday. undesirable sufficient that she runs into her ex-hubby, Nick, at her sister's vacation spot marriage ceremony, yet now, through a merciless accident, she's being pressured to make a cross-country street journey with him. And her almost-fiancé again at house is probably not to be sympathetic.
Harper can't support that Nick has come blazing again into her lifestyles in all of his frustratingly attractive, lovely architect glory. yet in Nick's eyes, Harper's constantly been the single. in the event that they can merely get it correct this time, eternally could be waiting—just round the bend.
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Additional info for My One and Only
You’re valid, for one hour,” 48 a. m. h o m e s she says, handing the ticket back. ” She leads him into a room, weighs him, takes his blood pressure and tempera ture, and tells him to hop up onto the table. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. ” “I’m OK,” he says. ” She winks. ” Dr. Lusardi asks, sweeping into the room, his white coat following him. “I was in pain, incredible pain. ” “Fine. I feel ﬁne, and then I remember the pain. ” Lusardi ﬂips through his chart. ” The doctor gestures for him to take off his shirt.
He takes out a ﬁve and a few ones and slaps them into the man’s hand. ” the dining-room hostess asks. ” the hostess asks again. He nods. “This way,” she says, leading him into the empty dining room. Someone hands him a menu, someone else pours him a glass of water, another puts a dinner roll on his bread plate and some butter beside it. He immediately eats the roll. He hasn’t been eating bread—it’s not part of his program. The roll is 52 a. m. h o m e s warm, yeasty sourdough. He eats it with cold butter—he closes his eyes—good.
M. h o m e s atmosphere, hinting at the day to come. He sat in the back, with the windows down, his head into the breeze like a dog. The driver babbled like a bad bartender, talking about everything, anything, nothing. ” He didn’t answer; the last thing he wanted was a confes sional conversation with the cab driver. “Fine, keep it a secret, see if I care. Everyone thinks they’re entitled to keep it to themselves. What do they know? That’s how you get sick, really sick—ulcers, colitis, cancer. I tell people everything, what do I need to keep secrets for?