“That must have been what Hunter meant about seeing a great need in her eyes. No wonder passion had inspired so many sonnets and stories. No wonder Charlotte Brontë had described it as a living entity with a will of its own.Because of the way she felt about Hunter Calhoun, she saw the world differently. Nothing would ever be the same again. The light looked clearer. The stars brighter. Food tasted more delicious. A simple birdsong suddenly sounded so sweet it made her heart hurt.And all because ...he had kissed her.As she worked with the stallion—Finn had made amazing progress, and they were practicing racing starts—she kept lapsing into long moments of dreaminess.Seated on a heartwood stump at low tide, she watched the nervous frenzy of the crabs on the mudflats as, one by one, they fell victim to hungry seagulls. On the long yellow-brown beach, Hunter rode the stallion.Though reasonably cooperative, Finn was a strong-willed animal and probably always had been. He balked and pranced.MoreLessRead More Read Less
User Reviews: