“France? Eugh. It’s so…full of the French,” she said. “I can’t stand it. The language, the culture, the wine, the food. All dreadful.” She shuddered in disgust, then picked up the silver platter on the table. “Another canapé, daahling?” — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
“France? Eugh. It’s so…full of the French,” she said. “I can’t stand it. The language, the culture, the wine, the food. All dreadful.” She… — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
“What would she have made of her life in the absence of childbirth? Maybe no more than she did in its presence and to… — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
“In his dreams—not the scariest thing in the world, a waterslide. Some of his clients told of nightmarish chases, being pursued by fantastic and… — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
“Hello,” he smiled warmly and his big, brown eyes twinkled. “I’m James. James Brown.” “Nice one,” she giggled. “Yes, my parents thought so too.”… — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
“The magnificence of the English spring had stilled not only his tongue, but his thoughts also. His brain, always run ragged with theories and… — Debbie McGowan Copy Share Image
