OUR REVIEW:
This book is a great fall read--it is filled with the perfect images of small town and fall and family and coziness. It takes all of the things we've romanticized about fall and immerses you while you follow the grumpy sunshine romance of Michelle and Cliff. I should also note that in addition to the fall setting, we're also in the 1990s--pre-cellphones and internet.
These two are an unlikely pairing for a variety of reasons, some are expected: grumpy/sunshine, city girl/small town guy but the deeper you get in to their narratives, you see other things that make them hesitate to explore anything more. However, love prevails and despite a looming deadline for her to return to big city life, these two find themselves unable to stay away from each other.
Cliff was adorable. Michelle was annoying. The burn was slow. The setting: perfectly idealized. A solid 3.5 read for me.
BUY IT: https://amzn.to/4m1d3yu
SYNOPSIS:
My new next-door neighbor seems to have everything figured out. Small town golden boy? Check. Single dad extraordinaire? Check. Hot baker forearms? I didn’t notice them, I swear.
I, on the other hand, don’t–at all–have anything figured out.
Trust me, I didn’t think taking over my mom’s dream bed and breakfast in Copper Run Vermont was going to be easy. It should be a good place to heal after my divorce. But apparently my scones belong in the garbage with my small talk skills. As pointed out by none other than Cliff.
Cliff is inescapable. He knows exactly what people need–always. His charm, the way he wears flannel, and even his pastries, make not wanting to be friends with Cliff and his daughters pretty hard.
Friends? I can make friends. That’s safe.
Except I’m leaving in three months to pass the inn off to my little sister and get the promotion in Seattle I’ve been working towards.
So ask me why I’m thinking about kissing my hot neighbor.
I, on the other hand, don’t–at all–have anything figured out.
Trust me, I didn’t think taking over my mom’s dream bed and breakfast in Copper Run Vermont was going to be easy. It should be a good place to heal after my divorce. But apparently my scones belong in the garbage with my small talk skills. As pointed out by none other than Cliff.
Cliff is inescapable. He knows exactly what people need–always. His charm, the way he wears flannel, and even his pastries, make not wanting to be friends with Cliff and his daughters pretty hard.
Friends? I can make friends. That’s safe.
Except I’m leaving in three months to pass the inn off to my little sister and get the promotion in Seattle I’ve been working towards.
So ask me why I’m thinking about kissing my hot neighbor.
Post a Comment
Comments are bloggy food.
Feed our blog...