THANK YOU
THANKS AND BIG hugs to my talented editor Flo Nicoll, who has worked with me for the past four and a half years and who always pushes me and demands the very best. This is our twelfth book together and I like to think we’re a perfect team.
It takes a village to put a book on the shelves and I’m always nervous of thanking people individually because I will miss someone out, but my thanks go to everyone at HQ in the UK and HQN in the US. I’m so grateful to everyone for all the thought and effort they put into making sure my books reach readers. It’s a tough job and they do it brilliantly.
My agent, Susan Ginsburg, is simply the best. I don’t know where I’d be without her invaluable advice and input.
After three books with a large cast of dogs as secondary characters, I was struggling to find names so my thanks to all my patient and enthusiastic readers on Facebook who kindly contributed.
A special mention to Natalie Smith, who bid to name a character in this book to raise funds for the wonderful charity CLIC Sargent, whose work helps support children and young people with cancer. Natalie, your generosity is much appreciated and I hope you like “Nat.”
My family and friends are endlessly supportive. Thanks to Joe, Ben and Kim for valiantly tasting batch after batch of chocolate chip cookies as I worked to perfect Harriet’s recipe. Your dedication to the cause is appreciated. Now get back to the gym!
I owe the biggest debt of gratitude to my readers who continue to buy my books, thus ensuring I can continue with my dream job, writing them. Thank you. You’re the best.
Sarah
xxx
Lauren’s picture-perfect life is built on a secret she’s worked hard to hide for years, a secret her teenage daughter has just discovered.
Jenna secretly longs for a family, but knows she must rebuild her relationship with her mother first.
Nancy knows the time has come to reveal her secret pain to her daughters…
A family built on secrets. A summer spent together. Their perfect chance to find hope, forgiveness and love.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of the captivating and emotional new book from Sarah Morgan, available in spring 2018!
ON HER QUEST to make a romantic dinner, Jenna stopped at the store on her way home and bought food. It always took a while because she bumped into so many people she knew. The sense of community was one of the things she loved about living on Martha’s Vineyard. It was also one of the things she hated. Like today, for example, when she wasn’t feeling sociable. She was still wound up after her encounter with her mother and wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
It was unlikely she’d make it through a shopping trip without having at least three lengthy conversations, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.
She kept her head down and didn’t look at anyone.
“Jenna? Jenna! I thought it was you.”
Surrendering to her fate, Jenna glanced up from the apples. “Hi, Sylvia.”
She’d been at school with Sylvia, but their lives had diverged. Jenna had gone off to college and Sylvia had stayed on the island and proceeded to pop out children as if she was on a personal mission to increase the number of year-rounders (personally Jenna was relieved to see half the population decamp to warmer climates in the winter months. The roads were clearer, the beaches were empty and you didn’t have to stand in line for ages at the bakery).
Jenna put field greens, tomatoes and bell peppers into her basket. “How are the children?” Why had she asked that question? There were six kids. She could potentially be here for hours. The Denton family could make up a class by themselves.
Six kids?
Where was the fairness in that? Not that Jenna wanted six. She wasn’t greedy
.
If she could just have one she would never complain again.
She only half listened as Sylvia talked about the stress of ferrying the children from piano lessons, swimming lessons, art class and football.
“Time you and Greg started a family,” Sylvia said, as if producing babies was simply something Jenna might have forgotten to do in the day-to-day pressure of living their lives.
Jenna fingered an overripe tomato, wondering whether the pleasure of pulping it against Sylvia’s perfect white shirt would outweigh the inevitable fallout.
Probably not. That was the downside of being a teacher. Islanders would no doubt decide that someone with so little self-control wasn’t fit to have responsibility for impressionable minds.