ISBN: 9780373068456

Thick grass spiked at Tessa King's bare knees as she sank to the ground beside the tiny, immaculately kept grave. Large trees shaded the cemetery and birdsong was the only noise that brok… More...

Thick grass spiked at Tessa King's bare knees as she sank to the ground beside the tiny, immaculately kept grave. Large trees shaded the cemetery and birdsong was the only noise that broke the drowsy afternoon serenity as she laid the bright yellow daffodils near the miniature marble statue of a kneeling angel. Grief bloomed in her chest, sharp and fresh, rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath, reaching for the headstone as the tsunamilike wave of emotion unbalanced her. She let some tears escape. Just a few. No more. Even on the anniversary of his death she rationed her grief. It was ten years to the day since Ryan had died. Ten years of living life in greyscale. The memories struggled for release but not even on this day did she allow herself the luxury of remembering too much. She rationed the memories too, his little body squirming against hers, his boyish giggle and that perfect little bow mouth. The double cowlick that had refused to be tamed. It was enough. Tess opened her eyes, the simple inscription she knew as intimately as she knew her own heartbeat, blurring in front of her. Ryan King. Aged 18 months. Gone, and a cloud in our hearts. She reached for the letters, the smooth marble cool beneath her fingertips. She didn't let them linger. She wiped at her cheeks, blinked the remaining moisture away. Enough. Fletcher King ground his heels into the luxurious carpet of grass, resisting the urge to go to her as she sagged against the headstone. His butt stayed stubbornly planted against the bonnet of his Jag. She'd made it perfectly clear when they'd separated that it had to be a clean break. That she didn't want to see him or talk to him, and every overture he'd made the first year to keep in touch, to check on her, had been resoundingly rebuffed. Frankly, after nine years of watching this ritual from afar, he didn't even know how to approach her. She seemed as distant today as she had for that awful year after Ryan's death when their marriage had slowly shrivelled and died. He hadn't been able to bridge the gap back then and he doubted almost a decade of distance would have improved things. It didn't mean he was immune to her grief. Even from this distance the weight of her despair punched him square in the solar plexus. Took him right back to the dreadful day as they'd frantically tried to revive their son, hoping against hope, trying to ignore the portent of doom that had settled over him like a leaden cloak. His frantic 'Come on, Ryan, come on!' still echoed in his dreams all these years later. A lump rose in his throat, tears needled and stung his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut. He'd already cried a river or two; hell, he was probably up to an ocean by now, but he couldn't afford to succumb today. He was here on a mission. He needed his wife back. Tess put one foot in front of the other on autopilot as she made her way to Fiction Fiction eBook, Harlequin<

ISBN: 9780373068456

Thick grass spiked at Tessa King's bare knees as she sank to the ground beside the tiny, immaculately kept grave. Large trees shaded the cemetery and birdsong was the only noise that brok… More...

Thick grass spiked at Tessa King's bare knees as she sank to the ground beside the tiny, immaculately kept grave. Large trees shaded the cemetery and birdsong was the only noise that broke the drowsy afternoon serenity as she laid the bright yellow daffodils near the miniature marble statue of a kneeling angel. Grief bloomed in her chest, sharp and fresh, rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath, reaching for the headstone as the tsunamilike wave of emotion unbalanced her. She let some tears escape. Just a few. No more. Even on the anniversary of his death she rationed her grief. It was ten years to the day since Ryan had died. Ten years of living life in greyscale. The memories struggled for release but not even on this day did she allow herself the luxury of remembering too much. She rationed the memories too, his little body squirming against hers, his boyish giggle and that perfect little bow mouth. The double cowlick that had refused to be tamed. It was enough. Tess opened her eyes, the simple inscription she knew as intimately as she knew her own heartbeat, blurring in front of her. Ryan King. Aged 18 months. Gone, and a cloud in our hearts. She reached for the letters, the smooth marble cool beneath her fingertips. She didn't let them linger. She wiped at her cheeks, blinked the remaining moisture away. Enough. Fletcher King ground his heels into the luxurious carpet of grass, resisting the urge to go to her as she sagged against the headstone. His butt stayed stubbornly planted against the bonnet of his Jag. She'd made it perfectly clear when they'd separated that it had to be a clean break. That she didn't want to see him or talk to him, and every overture he'd made the first year to keep in touch, to check on her, had been resoundingly rebuffed. Frankly, after nine years of watching this ritual from afar, he didn't even know how to approach her. She seemed as distant today as she had for that awful year after Ryan's death when their marriage had slowly shrivelled and died. He hadn't been able to bridge the gap back then and he doubted almost a decade of distance would have improved things. It didn't mean he was immune to her grief. Even from this distance the weight of her despair punched him square in the solar plexus. Took him right back to the dreadful day as they'd frantically tried to revive their son, hoping against hope, trying to ignore the portent of doom that had settled over him like a leaden cloak. His frantic 'Come on, Ryan, come on!' still echoed in his dreams all these years later. A lump rose in his throat, tears needled and stung his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut. He'd already cried a river or two; hell, he was probably up to an ocean by now, but he couldn't afford to succumb today. He was here on a mission. He needed his wife back. Tess put one foot in front of the other on autopilot as she made her way to Fiction Fiction, Harlequin<

ISBN: 9780373068456

The Doctor Dries Her Tears Facing her estranged husband, Fletcher, was always going to be heartbreaking for nurse Tessa King. Especially as Fletcher has one last favor to askwith his mo… More...

The Doctor Dries Her Tears Facing her estranged husband, Fletcher, was always going to be heartbreaking for nurse Tessa King. Especially as Fletcher has one last favor to askwith his mother critically ill, he needs Tessa to pretend tragedy never tore their marriage apart. Impossible when your husband is the one man it hurts your heart to touchbut the one man you can't resist. Fiction Fiction eBook<