Rebuilding Solace

Anna Sinclair

ISBN 13: 9798227433695

Published by Anna Sinclair, 2024

About this Item

nach der Bestellung gedruckt Neuware - Printed after ordering - I never imagined that restoring a crumbling house would lead me to rebuild more than just its walls. When I returned to my grandmother's old Victorian home, it was with a heart full of memories and a dream of reclaiming the warmth that had once filled its halls. But instead of a quiet sanctuary, I found Nathan-gruff, guarded, and maddeningly practical. Where I see history, he sees headaches. And where I hope to restore memories, he insists on tearing down the past. Yet, amidst the peeling paint and scattered tools, we're building something I didn't expect. With every argument about paint colors and every shared moment of vulnerability, I start to see beyond his walls-and he, beyond mine. As the house transforms, so do we, brick by brick, memory by memory. But as the lines between us blur, I'm left wondering-can we truly restore something broken Or will the foundation crack before we even begin.

Seller Inventory # 9798227433695

Bibliographic Details

• Title: Rebuilding Solace
• Publisher: Anna Sinclair
• Publication Date: 2024
• Language: English
• ISBN 13: 9798227433695
• Binding: Taschenbuch
• Condition: Neu
• Dimensions: 216W x 140H x 22D millimeters 216 millimeters width by 140 millimeters height by 22 millimeters depth
• Weight: 521 grams

About this title

Synopsis

I never imagined that restoring a crumbling house would lead me to rebuild more than just its walls. When I returned to my grandmother's old Victorian home, it was with a heart full of memories and a dream of reclaiming the warmth that had once filled its halls. But instead of a quiet sanctuary, I found Nathan-gruff, guarded, and maddeningly practical. Where I see history, he sees headaches. And where I hope to restore memories, he insists on tearing down the past. Yet, amidst the peeling paint and scattered tools, we're building something I didn't expect. With every argument about paint colors and every shared moment of vulnerability, I start to see beyond his walls-and he, beyond mine. As the house transforms, so do we, brick by brick, memory by memory. But as the lines between us blur, I'm left wondering-can we truly restore something broken? Or will the foundation crack before we even begin?