I sidle up to Josh. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I—thank you. I—”

“You don’t have to say anything more. You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” he deadpans, Han Solo to my Princess Leia. I roll my eyes and shake my head as his face breaks into a cheeky grin.

“Who’s up for cocktails?” calls Duncan, raising a plastic pitcher over his head.

Siobhan calls out, “Me!” and Duncan starts pouring into plastic cups.

“You ready for Duncan’s cocktails?” asks Josh in a low voice.

“Oh, god, no. Is anyone ever?”

Gerry hands us cups brimming with greenish-yellow liquid and I sniff mine. Hmm—like lemonade and paint thinner had a baby.

“To friends and family,” says Duncan, holding his cup aloft.

“To you,” says Josh in my ear.

“To us,” I say, tapping my cup against his. We share a smile, then I take a sip. Yep, exactly like lemonade and paint thinner had a baby.

THE END

Don’t miss Sandy’s next book The Christmas Swap, an uplifting and heart-warming Christmas novel. Get your copy here.

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A Note from the Author and Acknowledgements

After finishing One Summer in Santorini, I knew I wanted Sarah’s story to continue and that she’d eventually extricate herself from her love triangle. What I didn’t know when I started writing this book was if she would end up with Josh or James—or even on her own, although being a hopeful romantic, that the last option was highly unlikely. And not just for Sarah’s sake but for my own.

I wrote most of this book while perched on a sun lounger in Bali—yes, really. It was Spring 2018, and I was on a year-long sabbatical, living in Bali with my partner and love, Ben. For readers who don’t know this, Ben and I met on a pier in Santorini just as we were about to embark on a ten-day sailing trip around the Cyclades Islands. If that story sounds familiar, its because our real life “meet cute” was the inspiration for One Summer in Santorini, although in reality, there was no silver fox (sorry “Team James”).

The sabbatical was Ben’s idea. And after some cajoling and reassurance that it would be amazing, I put on my big-girl knickers and we quit our jobs, gave away a lot of our stuff, packed the rest into a storage cage, and bought a one-way ticket to the rest of the world, first stop Bali.

If it wasn’t for Ben’s bravery, support, and intrepid spirit I would not have gone on sabbatical and I wouldn’t have written this book (or That Night in Paris). You see, while on sabbatical I gave myself “permission” to be an author, to throw myself into writing, editing, and querying, and to seek out writing as a career.