Книги, похожие на «A.M. Castle, The Perfect Widow»

Told with intimacy and ferocity and set in the passionate and crumbling Spanish Quarter of Naples, comes a poignant tale of first love – of a place, of a person – where languages and cultures collide while dreams soar and crash in spectacular ways. ‘Don’t forgive me, don’t answer, don’t be sad. Be happy, have babies, make mixed tapes, take pictures … it’s how I always love to think of you. And now and then, if you can and if you want to, remember me. ’ Several years after leaving Naples, Heddi receives an email from Pietro, her first love, admitting that he was wrong. Immediately, Heddi is transported back to her college days in that heartbreakingly beautiful city built on ruins and set against the cliffs of a sleeping volcano. Just the thought of the Spanish Quarter, the crumbling apartment she shared with friends and where she first met Pietro, still spark the pain of longing and a desire to belong. For Heddi’s tribe of university friends, Naples was the first taste of freedom and an escape from their familial obligations. But for Heddi it is the place where she searched for the roots she never had, while Pietro tried to escape his. For all of them Naples is a place that they’ll never forget: the setting of their unrestrained youth.

I pay strangers to sleep with me. I have my reasons. . . . But they're not the ones you'd expect. For starters, I'm a funeral director taking over my dad's business. Not exactly the kind of person you'd expect to fork over cash for the lust and urgency only live skin-to-skin contact can create. Looking at me, you wouldn't have a clue I carry this little secret so close it creases up like the folds of a fan. Tight. Personal. Ready to unravel in the heat of the moment.Unsurprisingly, my line of work brings me face-to-face with loss. So I decided long ago that paying for sex would be one of the best (and arousing) ways to save myself from the one thing that would eventually cut far too deep. But Sam was a mistake. Literally. I signed on to «pick up» a stranger at a bar, but took Sam home instead.And now that I've felt his heat, his sweat and everything else, can I really go back to impersonal? Let's just hope he never finds out about my other life. . . .