One Summer in Paris(119)
My Grace.
“I’m ready to live a little, that’s all.”
“Does that mean you’re saying yes to the trip?”
“I think as a midlife crisis goes, this sounds like a good one. I’m happy to join you in it.”
She’d wanted this summer to be something they’d always remember, and she knew they would. There had been bad, but there had also been good and there would be more good to come. And she had new people in her life, too. Antoine, her grandfather. Audrey, who would be a friend for life.
A summer in Paris had taught her so much about herself and now she was on the edge of renewing her relationship with David.
And what they built together moving forward would be better and stronger. Perhaps it would feel all the more precious because what they shared had been threatened.
David pulled her into his arms. “We can plan the trip carefully if you like. Every last detail.”
Grace slid her arms around his neck and smiled. “We don’t need to do that. Why don’t we just see what happens?”
*
Acknowledgments
Setting plays an important part in every book I write, so my first thank-you is to Paris for providing exactly what I needed to tell this story, and for the many happy hours spent exploring what must surely be one of the most romantic cities in the world. Also, thank you Paris for the wine, and all the delicious cheese, for the macarons (eaten for research purposes, obviously), the art galleries and the bistros.
Writing is a fairly solitary process, but publishing isn’t and I’m lucky to work with the best publishing teams on both sides of the water—HQN in the US and HQ Stories in the UK. They work hard to make sure my books reach as many readers as possible and I’m massively grateful. I think they know that, but I’m putting it in writing.
It’s always nerve-racking picking out individual people because publishing is like a massive jigsaw and every piece of the puzzle is important, but still I’m going to thank Loriana Sacilotto, Dianne Moggy and Susan Swinwood. Also, extra big thanks to my fabulous editor, Flo Nicoll, and to Manpreet Grewal and Lisa Milton for guiding my career in the UK with such enthusiasm and dedication. My agent, Susan Ginsburg, is simply the best, and I’m so lucky to work with her.
Thank you to the many wonderful bloggers who tirelessly read and review my books, and to my publicity dream team, particularly Sophie Calder, Lucy Richardson, Lisa Wray and Anna Robinson.
I’m grateful to my international publishers for their enthusiasm and commitment. Connecting with readers from around the globe is one of the highlights of the job for me.
Thanks to my nonwriter friends who patiently answer questions like “what would you do if…”, to my writer friends who sustain me through the ups and downs of writing a book, and to my family, who are wonderful in every way.
As always, my biggest thank-you goes to my readers, who brighten each day with their kind messages, their book recommendations and their enthusiasm for my stories. Thank you for picking up another book of mine. I’m honored to be on your shelves. If you can’t take a trip to Paris this summer, I hope this book will feel like the next best thing.
Read on for an exclusive extract of Sarah Morgan’s next novel
A Wedding in December
SARAH MORGAN
CHAPTER ONE
Maggie
When her phone rang at three in the morning, ripping her from desperately needed sleep, Maggie’s first thought was bad news.
Her mind raced through the possibilities, working backwards from the worst-case scenario.
Death, or at least lifechanging injury. Police. Ambulances.
Heart pounding, brain foggy, she grabbed her phone from the summit of her teetering pile of books. The name on the screen offered no reassurance.
Trouble stalked her youngest daughter.
‘Rosie?’
She fumbled for the light and sat up. The book she’d fallen asleep reading thudded to the floor, scattering the pile of Christmas cards she’d started to write the night before. She’d chosen a winter scene of snow-laden trees. They hadn’t had a flake of snow in the village on Christmas Day for close to a decade. They often joked that it was a good thing their last name was ‘White’ because it was the only way they were ever going to have a ‘White’ Christmas.
She snuggled under the blanket with the phone. ‘Has something happened?’
The physical distance between her and Rosie made her feel frustrated and helpless. Everyone said global travel made the world smaller, but it didn’t seem smaller to Maggie. Why couldn’t her daughter have continued her studies closer to home? Oxford, with its famous spires and ancient colleges, was only a few miles away. Even if she’d based herself in London, Rosie could still have driven home for the occasional cup of tea and slice of homemade carrot cake. There would have been long Sunday lunches, followed by a stroll through sunlit meadows. Instead, Rosie had graduated and been awarded a place on a US doctoral programme, complete with full funding.
‘Can you believe it, Mum?’ The day she’d had the news she’d danced round the living room, hair flying around her face, twirling until she was dizzy. ‘Are you proud of me?’
She had been proud and dismayed in equal measure, although Maggie had hidden the dismayed part, of course.