Eve Quinn goes missing. Twenty-seven years later Clara Christensen is found. On her quest to find out who she is and where she comes from, Clara finds a new family and an old love. Trying to combine Clara and Eve, as well as pleasing everyone’s expectations of who she should be is difficult. The new family doesn’t help. But the old love does.
Duncan Cantwell has never been able to forget the woman who stole his heart, but he never expects her to stroll back into his life as the long lost daughter of the family who gave him a home when he was a boy.
In the most unexpected way Clara and Duncan find each other again. They are not just lovers torn apart by circumstance, however. They are in the middle of a family struggling to come to terms with reality. Love has a hard time flourishing, but Clara and Duncan have beaten the odds before.
Buy this book now at:
As she glared at him, she felt Luke looking at her. Then at Duncan. “What is it with you two?”
“What do you mean?” Clara dug out the acting skills she hadn’t used since fifth grade and a poor version of Mozart’s The Magic Flute.
The way Luke narrowed his eyes at her made her giggle. He looked like such a brother, and it was exhilarating.
“Remember the girl from Bali a few years ago that I told you about?” Duncan interrupted, directing his question at Luke.
“The one who gave you a fake phone number? What was her name again?”
Clara gasped. He hadn’t actually told Luke, had he? The grin Duncan sent her was lethal, and she wanted to poke her tongue at him. Yes, she was so mature.
“Yep. It was Clara. Our Clara.”
“Dude! No way.” Luke looked at her, wide-eyed, and Duncan was still grinning.
“The phone number wasn’t fake!” was the only thing she could think of to say.
“No, it was just wrong.” Duncan pulled out his wallet and produced the receipt she’d hurriedly written her phone number on more than two years earlier.
She couldn’t believe he’d kept it. It was so sweet. At that moment she wanted to kiss him more than she wanted to slap him, but it didn’t last long.
He shoved it under her nose. “See? That’s clearly an eight, not a three.”
Snatching the scrap of paper, she looked at it. It wasn’t an eight. She had without a shadow of doubt written it as a three. What was just as clear to her was that it did look like an eight. She’s been in a rush to catch her flight, and Marie was right when she’d said that her handwriting lacked elegance when she wrote fast. And there was no way she was about to admit it to Duncan.
“It’s a three. I know my own phone number.”
Luke reached for the receipt. “I already looked at this—as did Danny, Rachel, Ben, Vanessa, and Linda—and we all agreed it was an eight. It’s one of the few times we’ve all agreed on something over Sunday brunch.”
Clara closed her eyes. Of course it had to be at Sunday brunch that Duncan had shared his vacation memories. Could it get any more embarrassing?
“Now that I think about it, I think Dad wanted it to be a three, but we outnumbered him,” Luke said.
And apparently it could. Mr. Quinn had seen it, too, and no doubt heard whatever version of the story Duncan had shared with them. God, she hoped he’d left out the details. All the details.
“Remind me always to listen to Papa Q in the future.” Duncan took the receipt from Luke and put it back in his wallet. The look her sent her was impossible for her to read.
Connect with the Author: