Full disclosure here:
I've had this book for well over a decade and only now did I pick it up. Why? Because I thought, quite stupidly, that I wouldn't like it. I never did go for love stories...
And now I curse myself for having left this just sitting on my bookshelf for so long.
In the years leading up to World War Two Lavinia finds herself, due to a series of events I won't spoil here, in Paris.
There she found several things- an apartment, loneliness, people, friends, and love. And how sweet love can be!
But as the war became more and more trying so did her relationship- small quarells became reason to break it off, mindless whispers in the night became lifelines and small kisses became raging fires.