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Sloane: Dominic Alexander is my late husband's best friend and the last man that I should want. For the last ten years, he's taken a sick pleasure in making me feel paper thin, like my existence is of no consequence to him at all.
But now, things are different.
After a drunken night, and a surprisingly sexy act of heroism, he's started to be . . . nice. Treating me like something other than the embodiment of his annoyance, which would be nice if it didn't make me feel things I swore to never feel for another man after my husband died.
Dominic: Sloane Kent is going to be my undoing.
What's worse: I think I'm going to enjoy being unraveled by the gold flecks in her hazel eyes and the way she scrunches her nose when we're arguing, which we've done a lot of over the past decade. She thinks it's because I hate her, and I've let her think that because the alternative is . . . untenable.
But something is changing between us, and I don't know how to stop myself from breaking every promise I've ever made to myself regarding my best friend's wife. Promises that include never telling her that there's a long list of things I feel about her, but hate isn't one of them.
Contains mature themes.
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Hljóðbók: 13 december 2022
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