Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“Ehric frowned as he peeled a Post-It note off the package. "Preheat to three seventy-five." His brother went to the wall ovens and began pushing buttons. "Convection?"
"Doesn't say."
"Damn it."

Under and other circumstances, Assail would have found it impossible to believe that Ecale was wasting his meager urge to speak on cooking. But Marisol and her grandmother had changed everything ... for the short time they had been here.”
― J. R. Ward