The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
In the still of the night, the dim sounds of a saxophone tug at the sadness buried inside my heart…

In the still of the night, the dim sounds of a saxophone tug at the sadness buried inside my heart…

Ugh, this is such painful schmaltz.

Schmaltz is just a few alphabets away from schmuck.

A love triangle with an obvious Mr Wrong isn’t very exciting, is it?

So, going mainstream is going boring? How disappointing.
