Chloe LieseBergman Brothers tome 6 sur 6
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Résumé :
Brace yourself for longing, laughter, and a swoony slow-burn in this brother’s best friend sports romance about scoring the love of your life when you least expect to.
Ziggy
I’m the youngest player on the National Soccer team, the baby of my family, and thoroughly sick of being underestimated, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. Which is where my brother’s best friend and teammate, the infamous Sebastian Gauthier, comes i... >Voir plus
Ziggy
I’m the youngest player on the National Soccer team, the baby of my family, and thoroughly sick of being underestimated, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. Which is where my brother’s best friend and teammate, the infamous Sebastian Gauthier, comes i... >Voir plus
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In another world—in which he wasn’t an unapologetic jerk—I could mistake him for one of those morally gray villains who star in the fantasy romances I’ve been reading since adolescence. Dangerous and dark haired, inked and angry. Villains who ultimately redeem themselves, revealing their true natures when they prove themselves to be profoundly good, feminist, sacrificial heroes.
I know. It’s called fantasy romance for a reason.
I know. It’s called fantasy romance for a reason.
Somewhere along the way, the people who loved her best lost sight of the fact that just because you’ve lived one way for a time doesn’t mean you want to live that way always, that your struggle to evolve isn’t an indicator of a lack of desire to evolve. It just means… it’s hard. And it might be a hell of a lot easier if the people around you saw your possibility.
'What are words? I used to have them.'
'I have a few.' I smile and nuzzle his nose. 'I love you.'
'I’ve got those, too,' he says quietly, as he opens his eyes again and looks at me, right to the heart of me, fingers gliding through my hair. 'I love you, Sigrid. So much.'
'Not "too much"?'
He grins and nuzzles my nose, too. 'No such thing.'
'I have a few.' I smile and nuzzle his nose. 'I love you.'
'I’ve got those, too,' he says quietly, as he opens his eyes again and looks at me, right to the heart of me, fingers gliding through my hair. 'I love you, Sigrid. So much.'
'Not "too much"?'
He grins and nuzzles my nose, too. 'No such thing.'
Progress not perfection.
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Orgueil et ..., de Jane Austen ?
Modestie
Vantardise
Innocence
Préjugé
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