Ten O'Clock Snow

One wrong number. Two months of midnight texts. One winter in Bergen.Emma Whitaker hasn't been on a date in seven years.A literary translator in a Battersea studio, she works alone, eats alone, and lets her mother's calls go to voicemail. She tells herself she likes it that way. Everyone has stopped asking.Then, on an October Wednesday, she sends a translation question to the wrong number — and a ...