“Yes.” She rose up on her toes to kiss him. “It’s not that I didn’t know how to love you,” she whispered against his mouth, “it’s that I didn’t know how to accept you loving me.”

“And you can now?”

She nodded. “Yes. Because not accepting love when you have it is the real tragedy in this life. I’ve felt it for myself, sitting up here, weeping. I won’t do that. I won’t waste love. Not love like this, not our love. Not after all the love we’ve missed.”

The breeze whipped up, skimmed over her bare skin, and she shivered.

“Time for us to go inside,” he said.

“That sounds like a very good idea.”

He carried her inside, and this time when he made love to her, she kept her eyes open. Kept them on him. So that he could see how much she trusted him. What was in her heart.

All the love that she had for him burning bright and brilliant in her soul.

Ryder Daniels had always been her rock. Her safe space. Her protector.

He had always been the love of her life.

All she’d had to do was become brave enough to recognize it. Because of his strength, she was. And she knew that it would be like this for the rest of their lives. That he would be the rock and she would be the sunshine for their child and for each other. And that they would be a family.

Forever.

* * * * *

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.