Do you trust the boy you loved, or the man you might?
Sophie has only one thing on her New Year’s resolution list – sorting out her life.
But with a hunky farmer, his sexy brother and a herd of bullocks to deal with, how is a girl supposed to keep her mind on her mission?
Facing up to the man she once loved, and the family she lost, is something fun loving Sophie isn’t going to dodge second time round though. She always knew that retracing her steps was never going to be easy, she never realised that risking her heart again would be even harder.
And when there's two men to choose from will it be easier to trust the man she's never stopped loving, or the one that might give her the new start she needs?
'...scorching hot sex and so much emotion you may need a tissue.'
'...guaranteed to leave you squirming in your seat for more.'
It was damp and it was cold. The kind of damp that creeps under your defences, seeps into your skin and wraps itself around your heart. The kind of damp guaranteed to make you feel sad and alone even when you aren’t.
I glance back over my shoulder to the lone tall figure standing by the cemetery gate and he half raises a hand. And I know I’m not alone, not really alone. Maybe I never have been, I just haven’t been prepared to accept it.
Even shoving my hands deeper into my pockets doesn’t stop the little shiver running down my spine as I turn back to face the way I’m heading, and I pick my way along the unfamiliar path to the two graves which mean so much to me. One slow step at a time. I’ve only been here a couple of times. I mean, you don’t have to be hanging around the headstones to prove to someone you loved them do you?
But, if I’m honest, it isn’t anything so simple keeping me away. Fear is the thing that has stopped me coming here. Fear of being wrong, and fear of being right.
I was here on the day they were buried, watching as their bodies were dropped into the dark, unwelcoming earth and the pang of guilt spearing my gut was so sharp it released the sharp tang of bile into my throat. I’d hated him then, my dad. Hated him with every tender, sore part of me as I’d clenched my hands into fists in my pockets. But I was still a part of him, he was still my father, if not often my dad. And I’ve realised now that he probably did love her, the woman who will lie next to him forever. Two people never to part. My parents. It wasn’t a love I could understand, or forgive. But he did, just as she loved him back with an unerring passion and devotion that was as bad as it was good.
After the funeral I’d not been back for a long time. I hadn’t wanted to face the fear I suppose, but I guess now I was finally starting to understand, to accept. I’d been frightened of the truth. The fact that maybe they had meant it to happen, that I’d been kidding myself I could have made anything any different. Been kidding myself that it was all my fault, and if I’d never tried to live my own life it would never have happened.
Nothing like an ego eh?