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Zusatztext “This delicious literary indulgence is consuming and addictive…the perfect partner for every beach day this summer.” Informationen zum Autor Andrea Dunlop is the author of We Came Here to Forget , She Regrets Nothing , Losing the Light , and Broken Bay . She lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, where she works as a social media consultant. Klappentext "As a newly arrived exchange student in the picturesque city of Nantes, young Brooke develops a deep and complicated friendship with Sophie, a fellow American and stunning blonde, whose golden-girl faocade hides a precarious emotional fragility. Sophie and Brooke soon become inseparable and find themselves intoxicated by their new surroundings--and each other. But their lives are forever changed when they meet a sly, stylish French student, Vaeronique, and her impossibly sexy older cousin Alex"--Amazon.com.Losing the Light I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re leaving Manhattan. How am I supposed to handle our friendship becoming a long-distance relationship?” I collapse back onto my couch with a long sigh and stare out the window. The air has that thinness today as if it might snow. “You’re being dramatic. And if you think you’re the first person to make a joke about upstate being ‘long distance,’ you’re sadly mistaken. The house is only thirty minutes on Metro-North—it takes longer to get to the Upper West Side.” I decide I want it to snow. Chalk it up to the overabundance of cozy feelings of home and hearth that I’m currently experiencing. I’m dreaming of the working fireplace in our new two-bedroom Victorian house in Riverdale and of living there with a man whose father taught him how to build a fire. It’s not a large house, but it dwarfs this apartment, and the idea of living in a space where I might occasionally be alone with my thoughts is incredibly novel; it’s been years since I’ve been able to hear myself think. Kate lets out an exasperated click. “First of all, since when do I go to the Upper West Side? Secondly, I don’t do Penn Station. You can’t make me!” “Ha! Grand Central. You can’t even complain about that. There’s a Cipriani near there!” “How can you do this to me? First the engagement and then the suburbs? And don’t think I don’t know what’s coming next.” “Don’t you dare. Are you trying to make me break out in hives?” “I’m just saying”—Kate gives a triumphant little laugh—“I know what happens to people when they leave Manhattan.” “Babies don’t just happen to people. At least not people who paid attention in health class.” “I’m from Alabama. Abstinence-only education, remember?” “We’ve strayed so far from the point I don’t even know what it was.” “The point is you are coming to my party tomorrow. No excuses. You owe me that.” “I just have so much packing to do,” I say weakly, knowing I’m not unwilling to be cajoled into going. James and I have a lovely life together, but I can’t say I don’t miss my single days now and then, the best of which I spent with Kate, who is easily my most glamorous friend. Kate and I have known each other for seven years, since she was an assistant at Vogue the year I was a junior copy editor there. She always looks professionally styled in that way that’s engineered to look incidental, with scarves and expensive T-shirts and perfectly done smoky eye makeup. She’s forever going to restaurants where she is on a first-name basis with the owners and runs into at least ten people she knows; new places with no sign by the door and no reviews online. Ever since I’ve known her, she’s been the kind of girl who is always on the list. “I’ll help you pack!” she says. “No, you won’t,” I say, smiling. “But I’ll come to the party anyway. J...
