Lila Nova is a thirty-two year-old advertising copyrighter who lives alone in a plain, white box of an apartment. Recovering from a heartbreaking divorce, Lila’s mantra is simple: no pets, no plants, no people, no problems. But when Lila meets David Exley, a ruggedly handsome plant-seller, her lonely life blossoms into something far more colorful.
From the cold, harsh streets of Manhattan to the verdant jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula, Hothouse Flower is the story of a woman who must travel beyond the boundaries of sense and comfort to find what she truly wants.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: Hothouse Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire|
|Release Date: 06-16-2009|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Hothouse Flower and...|
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Hothouse Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire
Native of South Africa, member of the banana family,
prized for its tall, highly colored structures.
This plant is not for the easily disappointed, impatient, or bossy,
as it can take seven years to produce a single bloom.
Perfect for the person who gives and gives
without getting anything in return.
You know who you are. I inadvertently became interested in tropical plants because that’s what the man at the Union Square Green Market sold me.
I used to believe that sentence, but now I know better.
Now I know that it was meant to be.
Here’s how it happened.
I had just moved to Fourteenth Street and Union Square, into a small, newly renovated studio with absolutely no character. It was a square-shaped box with parquet floors, no molding, no details, white paint, and low ceilings. It was exactly the kind of apartment I wanted. Its newness meant that there were no memories trapped in the walls or the floorboards. No arguments or harrowing scenes of unrequited love staring at me from the bathroom mirror. It was brand-new. Just like I wanted my life to be.
I thought a bit of foliage might spruce the place up, no pun intended, and add some much-needed color, so I walked across the street to the Union Square Green Market to make my purchase.
The man at the plant stand was a throwback. He had streaky blond hair and a dirt-colored tan that came from being outside all the time. In his worn-out flannel shirt and beat-up Timberlands—worn for work, not fashion—he stood out in stark contrast to the manicured metro-sexuals perusing the market, wicker baskets...