"Sometimes, even when you start with the last page and you think you know everything, a book finds a way to surprise you" (pg 267).

I have never, and probably will never, love a romance book as much as I love this one. I saw a lot of myself in Nora. Her passion, her no-nonsense attitude, her anxieties and fears, her sarcasm, to name a few. I adored her. I laughed with her and mourned with her. I felt like I knew exactly what she was going to do at any given moment because she is so much like me. Out of all of Henry's heroines, Nora Stephens is my favorite. And out of all of her love interests, Charlie Lastra is my favorite. This book is my favorite of Henry's work. I loved Nora and Charlie's dynamic. I loved watching them fall in love. I loved how they communicated. I didn't find myself screaming at them in frustration if they didn't communicate, because they did. They actually acted like adults and had better life skills than a lot of characters in romance novels I've read. The way Charlie treats Nora makes me want to scream at people in relationships with subpar men to break up with them and find someone like Charlie Lastra. I love him. I found myself relating a lot to him as well. In an alternate universe where he actually exists, I would snatch that man up so quick.

"Oh, shit. It is a smile. He's pleased to have made me laugh. Which makes me blood feel like maple syrup. And I hate maple syrup" (pg 123).

Another thing I would like to talk about is Emily Henry's writing. She is a master at sucking you in. The moment you start this book, it's like the words reach out and pull you in and you live within the pages until the book is over. Then when the book is over, you find yourself wanting to go back and live there forever. Emily is also fantastic at writing characters. She makes them whole, complete, complicated, and messy. She makes words on a page appear human, as if they are in front of my face. This is a book I want to live in forever. I want to experience a love like Nora and Charlie's. I wish I had photographic memory so I could take a picture of every single page and go back to them any time I wanted. Thank you Emily Henry, you evil woman, for raising my standards for love yet again. Now I will never be happy until I find a man like Charlie, or Gus, or Alex.

"For the first time in my life, I know what the hell Cathy was talking about when she said I am Heathcliff. Not just because Charlie and I are so similar, but because he's right: we belong. In a way I don't understand, he's mine, and I'm his. It doesn't matter what the last page says. That's the truth. Here, now" (pg 301).