Point of
Order

Promised a kiss by chapter five. Made to earn it. Worth every page.

Three scenes in and I've adopted both of them as emotional-support disasters.

Tender enough to hurt. I keep rereading the last paragraph like it owes me money.

Read it on my lunch break. Did not eat. Could not.

“Read it twice. Reading it a third time. This is a confession, not a review.”

Forgot it was an engine by line two. Then forgot my own name.

Read the whole thing with one hand over my mouth.

“I don't leave reviews. I'm leaving this one on the floor, where it left me.”