Bree
The sun poured down in warm, lazy waves, coaxing me into the kind of afternoon where time seemed to stretch just for me. My legs were tucked beneath me, book balanced in my lap, my focus completely devoured by the pages.
Not the kind of book I’d normally pick up.
Usually, I’d be buried in a romance—something with a healthy dose of spice and a possessive male lead who didn’t take no for an answer. But The Glass Hours was nothing like that. There were no sultry touches or shameless smirks between characters, and yet… it had me. Completely. The quiet mystery of it wove itself around me, pulling me deeper and deeper until I was gulping down the words like they might vanish if I looked away.
Maybe that was the real beauty of bookclub—being shoved outside your comfort zone and stumbling
