Let me tell you, this book hit me right in the feels. I curled up with it on a rainy Sunday, and before I knew it, I'd devoured the whole thing in one sitting. There's something so raw about Anna and John's story - that heart-wrenching moment when love means letting go.

The scene where John spots Anna through the coffee shop window? Chills. Literal chills. Greene writes these small-town moments with such authenticity - the way light catches on rain-streaked windows, how familiar footsteps sound on old wooden floors. You can almost smell the coffee beans and feel that electric moment of recognition.

What surprised me most was how layered this quick read felt. Beneath the sweet romance simmers real pain - Anna's silent year in LA, John methodically packing up his life. Their reunion isn't some Hallmark moment; it's messy, hesitant, achingly human. When Hurricane Layla hits? That's when Greene's writing truly shines, using nature's fury to mirror their emotional storm.

As someone who usually prefers slow burns, I was shocked by how invested I became in just a few chapters. Their chemistry doesn't need pages to establish itself - it's there in shared glances, in half-finished sentences loaded with history. That final scene where they're boarding up windows together? Perfection.

Fair warning: keep tissues nearby. This isn't just fluff - it's about dreams deferred, roads not taken, and whether love can survive its own sacrifices. By the last page, I wasn't just reading about Moira Cove; I felt like I'd lived there.