How Long Does It Take To Read The Road To Wigan Pier?

"Fall in love with THE THORNTONS, a family filled with sexy alpha males, passionate women, and lots of heart, all set in a delightful small town in the Pacific Northwest. It’s Christmas time, and the entire Thornton clan is spending the holidays in a cabin deep in the Washington woods. What could go wrong with twelve adults, four kids, and a dog all staying together in one big cabin? Only the most chaotic—and memorable—Christmas ever! Expect kisses under the mistletoe, lots of (spiked) eggnog, and even a surprise wedding as the Thornton clan celebrates the most romantic holiday of all. Author’s Note: I’ll Be Home for Christmas is set six months after the last book, Till There Was You, ends. It’s recommended that you read the other books first, as this book is an epilogue to the entire series. Merry Christmas and happy reading! ** This book is a part of the LOVE EVERLASTING series, which is one large series following multiple families and friends. Each book can be read as a standalone (unless otherwise noted), or they can be read in order of publication as one long series. Each book is interconnected, with many of the same characters showing up in multiple books. LOVE EVERLASTING THE THORNTONS The Nearness of You The Very Thought of You If I Can’t Have You Dream a Little Dream of Me Someone to Watch Over Me Till There Was You I’ll Be Home for Christmas (A Thorntons Christmas)

Eight Days (A.k.A 192 Hours) is a Romance Business Novel, it entails the happening in the life of Bisola by the hand of Fate, it tells how an orphan Girl with nothing but just her Bachelor Degree Certificate in Marketing found a Job, caught the eyes of her Cold CEO, also cause the Cold CEO to finally admit his love for her, all within the period of Eight days. hguuh NOTE:- The Novel Plot happened within Eight Days

Nova Jane found love at a young age, but as those things sometimes go, they took different directions in life. Nova married Rob and has been living a life she can't seem to escape. One where every decision feels like a minefield of Robs' moods, and anything can set him off. She fantasizes about her first love to get through the abuse until she can save enough money to get out. It was then that she was happy and carefree. It helps to daydream about it, but it also hurts that it's forever beyond her reach.

The 100th time Dexter Carrington ditches me to help my best friend with her lab work, I write the final line in my diary and break up with him. Dexter is exasperated, to say the least. "I genuinely don't know how your amygdala is wired. Your emotions have completely bulldozed your rational thinking." My best friend, Brianna Holt, laughs. "That's cruel. You're insulting her intelligence in words she can't even understand." She's right. I don't understand. The two of them dominate the biology department rankings every year, taking first and second place, and are the kind of prodigies even their professors defer to. I'm just an ordinary student at the music school next door. When they talk about how cells have their own rhythms, the only thing I can think to ask is what time signature those rhythms are in. Dexter always hates that. "If you don't understand, don't chime in." So now I listen. I don't chime in anymore. Because the first page of this diary reads, "Today is my birthday, but Dexter chose to go over data with Brianna. "By the time this diary is full, I'm leaving him for good."

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."

I disappeared in the year Sebastian Ferraro loved me most. For thirteen years, he never got an explanation. And for thirteen years, I punished myself by never watching his games, never saying his name, and never thinking about the promise we made in that old hockey rink. Until I returned to this city and saw a faded poster outside the abandoned arena. Sebastian was only seventeen in the photo. He stood at the center of the ice, bright-eyed and fearless, with one sentence printed beneath him: Wait for me past the blue line. That was his promise to me. And I had missed it for thirteen years. Later, I collapsed inside his arena. When I woke up, the boy I had once failed was standing beside my hospital bed. Only he was no longer a boy. He was a professional hockey star. The heir to the Ferraro crime family. And a man whose fiancée was about to marry him. I wanted to tell him why I had left all those years ago. But he looked at me and said coldly, “The past is over. Don’t cause any misunderstandings.” That was when I finally understood. I no longer had the right to disturb his life. So I smiled, swallowed every truth I had kept buried, and booked a flight to New Zealand. I thought leaving was the last thing I could do for him. Until that plane disappeared from radar. The news spread through the whole city. Everyone said Sebastian Ferraro lost control at the airport. He went through the passenger list again and again, screaming my name like a man who had already lost everything.