Sublime

Rhys tried to imagine what his mother would make of this subtle, incandescent creature with a mind full of books and music in her fingers.

Dangerous creatures, women.

He was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.

She wouldn’t be able to marry for love, but she could at least marry for hope.

“No woman will compare to you tonight,” he murmured.

“Only you,” Poppy said, “could make seducing a man sound like the most pragmatic option.”

Thunderstorms and rainbows wrapped together in a convenient pocket-sized parcel.