They were whole.

Together.

Jamie Dodge had always taken care of herself. When she’d fallen down, she hadn’t cried. Not even once. She stood up, wiped the blood off and moved on.

But she wouldn’t have to do that anymore.

Because in Gabe’s arms, she found a safe space to cry.

Now when she fell down, he would be there to pick her up.

And that made her feel strong.

* * * * *

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Maisey’s next book, Confessions from the Quilting Circle!

When Lark Ashwood returns home to Bear Creek, Oregon, she is determined to realise her dreams of setting up a craft café. She’s equally determined to avoid the history she’s been running from – especially when it comes in the irresistible shape of local garage owner Ben Thompson. But as Lark embarks on a quilting circle with her mom and two sisters, she soon realises that the key to her future lies in unlocking the past...

Read on for a sneak preview of Maisey Yates’s emotionally compelling new novel for HQN

Confessions from the Quilting Circle

March 4th, 1944

The dress is perfect. Candlelight satin and antique lace. I can’t wait for you to see it. I can’t wait to walk down the aisle toward you. If only we could set a date. If only we had some idea of when the war will be over.

Love, Dot

Present day—

Lark

Unfinished.

The word whispered through the room like a ghost. Over the faded, floral wallpaper, down to the scarred wooden floor. And to the precariously stacked boxes and bins of fabrics, yarn skeins, canvases and other artistic miscellany.

Lark Ashwood had to wonder if her grandmother had left them this way on purpose. Unfinished business here on earth, in the form of quilts, sweaters and paintings, to keep her spirit hanging around after she was gone.

It would be like her. Adeline Dowell did everything with just a little extra.

From her glossy red hair—which stayed that color till the day she died—to her matching cherry glasses and lipstick. She always had an armful of bangles, a beer in her hand and an ashtray full of cigarettes. She never smelled like smoke. She smelled like spearmint gum, Aqua Net and Avon perfume.

She had taught Lark that it was okay to be a little bit of extra.

A smile curved her lips as she looked around the attic space again. “Oh, Gram...this is really a mess.”

She had the sense that was intentional too. In death, as in life, her grandmother wouldn’t simply fade away.

Neat attics, well-ordered affairs and pre-death estate sales designed to decrease the clutter a family would have to go through later were for other women. Quieter women who didn’t want to be a bother.

Adeline Dowell lived to be a bother. To expand to fill a space, not shrinking down to accommodate anyone.

Lark might not consistently achieve the level of excess Gram had, but she considered it a goal.