My sister had already given me a hard time about it when she’d arrived earlier in the evening, and a shopping trip was on the agenda for the next day. There’d been no need for warm gloves in L.A., and I’d only been in New York since September. The few people still out this late were well bundled in gloves and scarves, and hats pulled down over their ears. Winter had set in just in time for the Thanksgiving holiday. The glass was cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the liquor burning in my chest. I pressed my cheek against my bedroom window and watched the lonely street below. How many times could a song be listened to on repeat? If there was a limit, I was approaching mine.
I brought the tumbler of scotch to my lips, taking another sip as the Frou Frou song playing from the Spotify app on my phone started up again. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.īe sure to sign up for my newsletter where you’ll receive a FREE book every month from bestselling authors, only available to my subscribers, as well as up-to-date information on my latest releases.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
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