Dan Brotzel

The Wolf in the Woods

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“A couple tries to rekindle their relationship through a romantic weekend getaway . . . but everything goes awry. . . . Dark and extremely funny.” —Scots Magazine
Struggling with their marriage, midlife empty-nesters Colleen and Andrew plan to spend a week in an isolated cottage—just the two of them. But with a landlord named Wolf who lives next door and won’t leave them alone, the couple start to feel like there are three people in their relationship.
Still, they are determined to make a valiant effort to overcome this marital crisis. However, with both of them engaging in secret communications with others, they’re starting off on shaky ground. And with Wolf’s behavior growing ever more unsettling, it’s possible that leaving early would be a good idea. If only their car hadn’t broken down . . .
“Full of cutting insights into the reality of long-term relationships but not at all short on heart-warming humour, The Wolf in the Woods is a sometimes sinister but tenderly told tale.” —The Independent
“With characters that are all-too-relatable, The Wolf in the Woods skewers the lies we tell ourselves in order to keep going. I loved it.” —Stephen May, author of Sell Us the Rope
“A master story-teller and observer of people and relationships. . . . Humour, suspense and unexpected twists. I could not put this book down.” —Christy Lefteri, author of The Beekeeper of Aleppo
Denne bog er ikke tilgængelig i øjeblikket
219 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2024
Udgivelsesår
2024

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    SATURDAY
    Oh God. Here you go again, hanging over me, invading my sleep with your morning breath. As my eyes flicker open, you linger over me for a long moment, nuzzling my neck and furtively assessing my reaction. I feel your arms tremble.

    When you get no response, you slide off with a disgusted grunt. Even though I’m still half-asleep, I sense the guilt-seeking rays emanating from your half-turned back. I roll over and away.

    But you just can’t let me be, can you? The pointed buzzing of an electric toothbrush, the pedantic click of a wardrobe door, a coat-hanger’s righteous jangle – your busy-busy faffing is just enough to break my spell. I am conscious, and there’s no escaping it. No escaping you.

    Today, I think. Let it be today that I find a way.

    ‘Come on!’ you say. ‘We should have left by now!’

    And I think: Next week.
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