The Honeybridge Winter Ball is the perfect place to blow off steam, to be the person I want to be, at least until the clock strikes midnight. Not my job prospects.Īnd this winter, I decided I’ve had enough. Because it turns out, there’s nothing very important about me, no matter how hard I try to be the guy everyone wants me to be. Even my big brother thinks I’m spoiled.īut once upon a time, when I was eight years old, old Pop Honeycutt at the General Store looked at me and gave me the nickname Mr. There are three kinds of people in Honeybridge, Maine: The Honeycutts, who know a lot about love and loyalty The Wellbridges, who think they’re the epitome of wealth and refinement and the rest of the Honeybridgers, who know better than to get in the way of the centuries-old rivalry between the two.
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