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326 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 27, 2021
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🤧🤧look mom i made it 🤧🤧

’I went all in, asking for forgiveness for my thoughts and for putting Fisher’s penis in my mouth. Did God get a lot of penis prayers? It seemed unlikely. Maybe guys with STDs praying for a quick recovery and promising to return to celibacy.’
cant get over the cringey writing
‘Did I have an unnatural fear of failure? Yes. Success felt like a myth. Happiness … an unreachable destination.
And love … well, it was something blurry and always changing forms in my life. I chased love.
Love for my father.
Love for God.
Love for Rory.
But it always felt just out of reach. Until Fisher. With him, I touched love. I held it in my hands, like reaching the end of a rainbow or lassoing the moon.’
no bc i see no such thing. WHAT LOVE
⚓️ update : fuck it there werent a moment in the book i enjoy so 1 star it is. theres still lots of stuff i didnt like but im too lazy. u might like this much more than i do, u might not, dont be put off by my subjective opinion k bye




I thought you were a gentleman,” I mumbled, making the walk of shame to the stack of drawers and hunching down instead of bending over to retrieve a towel. “Why did you think that?”

"You can't have my virginity," I whispered.
"What can I have?"

Audio book source: Audible
Story Rating: 3.5 stars
Narrator: Tia Ryder
Narration Rating: 4 stars
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 9h 45m
On one hand, he liked to treat me like a child, on the other hand, he spoke to me in a way that felt crude and borderline inappropriate.. . . is usually my jam.





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‘Had I used swear words, I would have told him to fuck off, and it would have felt so liberating. But I remained silent because I knew those other words would feel foreign leaving my lips.
“Cat got your tongue?” Fisher grinned as I fumed.
I climbed out and mumbled to myself, “No. Jesus does.”’
‘“Now, if you don’t get out of my truck,” he said releasing my lips, “I’m going to want more.”
I giggled, kissing along his cheek as his hand moved from my waist to my butt.
“Like that book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, have you read it?”
I nodded, relishing the feel of his scruffy face against my lips. “Fisher,” I whispered at his ear, feeling brave enough to tease his earlobe like he had teased mine with his teeth, “are you saying you want my cookie?”
He laughed, threading fingers through my wet hair and bringing my lips back to his. “Your cookie.”
Kiss.
“Your muffins.”
Kiss.
I giggled against his mouth.
“I’m going to want the whole fucking bakery.”
Kiss.
I wanted his crude and dirty mouth. The kisses…I wanted all of his kisses. His laughter. And the way he looked at me like I was the bane of his existence in the most beautiful way.’

“Why me? And I don’t mean it like I have no sense of self-esteem. It’s not that. I’m not ugly. I’m not stupid. I’m fun. I have a decent list of quality traits. But you’re not ugly either. Or stupid. And you can be fun. But you’re also ten years older than me. With so many options. I just don’t get it. Was I a game? A toy? Were you bored? I know I’ve asked you this before, but I just don’t get it. Why engage with an eighteen-year-old who has no solid direction in her life yet, can’t drink legally, and who’s a virgin. I just don’t get it.”
He let my words settle, dissipate, and vanish, replaced with silence. “What did you like about the mountains?”
I shrugged. “What didn’t I like? The air. The tranquility. The vastness. Just … I don’t know. When we stopped at that overlook, I just liked how I felt. There. In the moment. It’s hard to describe.”
“Because you can’t.”
“Maybe.” I tried to think of the right words, but they fell short.
“Well, neither can I.”
“It …” I shook my head. “It still doesn’t make sense.”
“To whom? How you feel about … everything—people, places, things, events, good times, tragedies, the past, the future—it only has to make sense to you. In this life, we don't owe anyone anything. No explanation. Feelings are the most personal part of who we are. You’re not accountable for your feelings any more than you’re accountable for the amount of oxygen you consume. Think for yourself. And don’t ever let anyone tell you how to feel.”
“Naked fisherman, you are incorrigible. Moody. Bold. Unpredictable. Brash … and a million other things that are bad for me. Yet it felt like you were the first person in my life who just … fit. The version of myself I dreaded … the version I blamed on your bad behavior, I came to love it. It started to feel like my true skin. It felt good to smile without something in my brain telling me I should smile. You gave my days this vibrant color, and I don’t know what I will see when you’re not…” I drew in a shaky breath as emotions stung my eyes “…when you’re not mine.”


