![]() About the BookBlurb![]() Buy LinksAmazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AUAbout Sue LilleyAuthor Bio![]() Connect with SueWebsite | Twitter | GoodreadsTour StopsJune 26:Author Interview with Amy’s Bookish Life June 29: Book Review by Booklove July 3: Author Interview with Drops of Ink July 5: Exclusive Excerpt at Obsessed by Books July 11 Exclusive Excerpt at The Bookworm Lodge July 13: Exclusive Excerpt at Happy Ever After July 18: Exclusive Excerpt at My Fiction Nook July 21: Book Review by EskieMama Reads July 25: Exclusive Excerpt at A Naughty Book Fling July 27: Book Review by Dandelions Inspired August 1: Exclusive Excerpt at Up 'Til Dawn August 4: Exclusive Excerpt at Book Lovers 4Ever August 8: Book Review by Underneath the Covers August 10: Book Review by All Things Bookaholic August 16: Exclusive Excerpt at Shh, I Am Reading August 18: Author Interview with Liz's Reading Life August 22: Exclusive Excerpt at Lori's Reading Corner August 25: Exclusive Excerpt at NerdGirl Official August 28: Exclusive Excerpt at Books, Dreams, Life September 1: Book Review by Wicked Babes Blog Reviews September 4: Book Review by The Bookery Review September 6: Exclusive Excerpt at CelticLady's Reviews September 13: Book Review by Always Love Me Some Books September 15: Author Interview with I Heart Reading ![]()
Excerpt
Gypsy hair tangled with salt from his swim, Danny could be a poster guy for a cool brand of jeans. He had to stoop to kiss his grandmother, such a tiny woman her canvas apron swamped her. Stupid to mind he hadn’t kissed Grace goodbye, or introduced her. It wasn’t as if they were on the verge of a relationship. So that was that. She had to forget about him now, especially as he was clearly impatient to see her drive away. She shoved the car into gear, aware of the incongruous Mercedes in a street barely wide enough for two cars to pass. The haphazard grey cottages squatted on the slope as if they’d slithered towards the sea in the aftermath of a storm. The shutters were mostly the colour of clotted cream, flanked by pots and hanging baskets, bursting with geraniums. Why did she want to cry about that? She couldn’t face going back to Penrowan with her tail between her legs. Sober now, she couldn’t face Sam after Dixie’s bombshell yesterday. Getting drunk with Dixie seemed to have brought them closer but now she was doubly wary of causing Dixie more hurt. Far from oiling the wheels to reveal her own secret, the night out had been the perfect excuse to avoid talking at all. She drove into the heart of Perranstone village, imagining smugglers and romantic derring-do as soon as she saw the quaint rustic charm of the fishermen’s cottages. Working homes next door to holiday lets, the higgledy-piggledy Lego houses had been transformed by fresh coats of ice-cream paint. Tiny shops selling fish caught that morning, stood alongside postcards and buckets and spades. There was a new addition since the last time she’d been there, a chic boutique hotel converted from the shell of a bonded warehouse. Clearly the village was on the up. Shading her eyes from the glow of the early evening sun, she got out at the harbour wall and wandered around the horseshoe quay. The tide was coming in. The myriad boats bobbed on the swell, making ready with pots and nets to prolong years of family tradition. Too wistful to notice where she was walking, she came upon a house she recognised from the adverts she’d viewed on-line. It had been empty for a long time, by the looks of it. Even the estate agent’s sign was faded and blistered. But who’d be daft enough to buy somewhere so haphazard? It looked the sort of place where you’d cook in summer and freeze in winter, even if you made it up the mossy steps without breaking an ankle. Yet the salty tang of the sea, the screech of the gulls in the harbour and the yearning evoked by the busy little boats made it somehow compelling. How could she be nostalgic about something she’d never had? It was plain ridiculous to hanker after a rose-tinted future with her daughter in the centre. They hadn’t even met yet. Who’s to say she’d even take to Grace, never mind forgive her? And what about the parents who’d loved her for over twenty years? Where exactly could Grace fit in…?
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