Heart Of A Hunter. Sylvie Kurtz
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Greenhouse windows overlooked westerly views of Mount Monadnock. Light flooded the tile floor and danced at Oliviaâs feet. It kissed her skin with soft gold and teased her hair with gilt. In that moment, from that angle, she looked like his Olivia.
But she wasnât.
Remembering that simple fact was so hard.
âYou painted that trunk,â he said when she ran a finger along the edge of a pine chest on a wrought-iron stand. He remembered the day it had come to life. âYou sat with the client. Sheâd brought pictures, and you talked to her for hours. By the time she left, youâd made a dozen sketches.â And Iâd been jealous as hell of the time this woman had stolen from me. He jerked his chin toward the chest. âThatâs the one she picked.â
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