The Look of Love: A Novel
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“Jio has become one of the most-read women in America.” –Woman’s World
Born during a Christmas blizzard, Jane Williams receives a rare gift: the ability to see true love. Jane has emerged from an ailing childhood a lonely, hopeless romantic when, on her twenty-ninth birthday, a mysterious greeting card arrives, specifying that Jane must identify the six types of love before the full moon following her thirtieth birthday, or face grave consequences. When Jane falls for a science writer who doesn’t believe in love, she fears that her fate is sealed. Inspired by the classic song, The Look of Love is utterly enchanting.
say, “I’m serious.” “So let me guess, do little hearts fly out of people’s heads when they’re in love? Do you hear birds chirping in your ears? No, wait, is Cupid in on this? Do you see him puncturing hearts with bow and arrows?” “You’re mocking me,” I say. “I shouldn’t have told you.” His smile fades away. “You’re actually serious?” “I am,” I say. “I’ve had vision issues my whole life. I’ve seen a neurologist since I was a kid, and the latest thinking is that I have a tiny tumor on my optic
has mildly irritated her. Don’t people know that one does not draw attention to solitary dining? He seats her at the table beside Mel. “Best view in town from right here,” Johnny says, pulling her chair out for her. “I can see that,” she says, looking out to the bay. Johnny hands her a menu, and Mel watches as her delicate, manicured hands hold it, closed. “Two eggs, over easy. Whole wheat toast, no butter,” she says, clearly speaking from experience. Johnny exchanges a glance with Mel.
But I know she’s broken inside and deeply confused. I glance across the room and see Grant’s wife watching the scene unfold, watching her husband pander to another woman. If she didn’t know, she knows now. Anyone in the room, even without my gift, could see Grant’s love for Lo. And just before Lo stands up to excuse herself, she looks at Grant, just one tiny glance. And that’s when it happens. My vision clouds, slowly at first, and then with the same intensity I experience when I let my eyes
herself, thinking of Luca. She misses him. Before he left, he wrote his phone number on a piece of paper. “If anything goes wrong, if something breaks,” he said, “call me, and I’ll fix it.” She looks at that piece of paper on the counter every morning. Sometimes she wishes the dishwasher would fail or that a cabinet hinge would appear misaligned or the faucet would leak. She longs for a reason to call him, to hear his voice again, to see him. He has been her friend all these months, and his
him to be the glue that puts all her broken pieces back together. It’s too much to ask another human being. Besides, he’s gone home to Italy. She remembers their tearful good-bye. She turned away when he looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her. She would not let him spend his love on her. He’d spend it until he was broke, and she didn’t deserve it. There’s someone else for him, someone better than she. She wipes a tear from her cheek as the nurse pokes her head in the doorway with a knowing