![]() Without turning around, she knew every straight woman had her face pressed up against the windows of the bus, watching the maestro of feminine wetness cross the road, his dark blond hair blowing around in the wind, the lower half of his face covered in unruly, unshaped stubble, darker than the hair on his head. Perhaps because his identity had been whittled down to words on a screen, she’d forgotten that he commanded attention like a grand finale of fireworks in the night sky. Probably because she’d communicated with this man every day for six-no, nearly seven-months now, but never heard his voice. Her mind made a scratchy humming sound, like the one a record makes in between songs. Hannah tore her wistful eyes off the man she’d been crushing on for two years, and saw Fox crossing the parking lot in their direction, his striking face a mask of alarm. Read an exclusive excerpt of Hook, Line, and Sinker below!! ![]()
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