Opal Moritz
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Influences
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January 2023
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https://www.goodreads.com/opal_moritz
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"Adorable, from the premise (the mail-order bride is actually a groom) to the well-developed characters, the setting is resonant and vividly realised, and the love story feels genuine between Nat and Jamie. Have re-read a few times because it's so com"
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"It’s Christmas break and Harold is alone waiting and watching the other boys happily reuniting with families and going home. The school secretary watches from the window with pity for Harold as he waits to be picked up.
An unfamiliar dark green sedan," Read more of this review » |
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Full transparency, I am in this, but indulge me - I want to review the other two stories: Rena Butler's The Heir & the Outlaw - a rollicking adventure story, this has enemies-to-lovers (MY FAVE!) and it's funny af, there's plenty of action but it nev ...more |
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It's extremely not Christmas but I love Keira Andrews and decided to give this one a go on a whim, even if the fake-dating trope is one I am hella picky about; well, from the first page I was on board with the contrivance behind getting Logan and Set ...more | |
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Tender, is the word I'd use for Gravity, a hockey romance which had me absolutely absorbed. The central love story is breathtaking, and the world of high-stakes hockey felt so real. Full of details which really made the story come alive. Will definit ...more | |
“Aaahhhh!”
The yell came from the guy in the door frame. He was blond, wearing a gigantic, white, puffy coat and holding various bulging bags. Despite his shock, Doug still registered that he was like a twink remix of the Michelin Man.
Doug pointed at him. “Who are you?”
“Isn’t this Pine Mountain Cottage?”
The guy’s voice sounded spooked, but Doug was too taken aback to tone down his own voice. “Yes? Who are you?”
Beneath his floppy hair, the guy’s eyes widened. “I’m Easton?”
What kind of name was Easton? Trying to keep his voice even, Doug demanded, “How the hell did you get here?”
Looking shell-shocked, the guy pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “An Uber from the train station?”
― Leaves of Absence
The yell came from the guy in the door frame. He was blond, wearing a gigantic, white, puffy coat and holding various bulging bags. Despite his shock, Doug still registered that he was like a twink remix of the Michelin Man.
Doug pointed at him. “Who are you?”
“Isn’t this Pine Mountain Cottage?”
The guy’s voice sounded spooked, but Doug was too taken aback to tone down his own voice. “Yes? Who are you?”
Beneath his floppy hair, the guy’s eyes widened. “I’m Easton?”
What kind of name was Easton? Trying to keep his voice even, Doug demanded, “How the hell did you get here?”
Looking shell-shocked, the guy pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “An Uber from the train station?”
― Leaves of Absence
“Sander raised his voice, just loud enough to get people to lean forward to hear him. “This is how it’s gonna work.”
He sat up, closer to the edge of the couch, his legs closing together like a gate, but still with enough room between them that they were almost framing Aaron. Sander tapped a thigh with two thick-knuckled fingers. “Over here. I scored twenty-one points, right? So twenty-one of them, over the clothes.”
― Losing, or Something Like It
He sat up, closer to the edge of the couch, his legs closing together like a gate, but still with enough room between them that they were almost framing Aaron. Sander tapped a thigh with two thick-knuckled fingers. “Over here. I scored twenty-one points, right? So twenty-one of them, over the clothes.”
― Losing, or Something Like It
“He’s been spoiled by the availability of produce in Los Angeles, spoiled by all the choices and the never-ending stream of ripe fruits and vegetables in or out of season. There remains, though, nothing quite like a peach, plucked from the tree at the peak of ripeness, still warm from the sun in the orchard.”
― Peach Season
― Peach Season
“Sander raised his voice, just loud enough to get people to lean forward to hear him. “This is how it’s gonna work.”
He sat up, closer to the edge of the couch, his legs closing together like a gate, but still with enough room between them that they were almost framing Aaron. Sander tapped a thigh with two thick-knuckled fingers. “Over here. I scored twenty-one points, right? So twenty-one of them, over the clothes.”
― Losing, or Something Like It
He sat up, closer to the edge of the couch, his legs closing together like a gate, but still with enough room between them that they were almost framing Aaron. Sander tapped a thigh with two thick-knuckled fingers. “Over here. I scored twenty-one points, right? So twenty-one of them, over the clothes.”
― Losing, or Something Like It
![220](https://images.gr-assets.com/groups/1269147049p1/220.jpg)
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