As she sipped her coffee, Liv considered the importance of the story in front of her. This was Essie’s legacy, and she couldn’t disappoint millions of Georgia Rory fans by making a hash of the author’s last ever book. Her cheeks burned when she thought about her tipsy call to Anthony. When they met at the museum, she wanted to prove to him that Essie hadn’t made a big mistake leaving her the novel to complete.

The pages of the manuscript curled like autumn leaves, and she smoothed a hand across the paper. Liv felt a familiar leap of excitement as she started to read, even if she needed the Rosetta stone to interpret Essie’s handwriting. Sentences trailed off to nowhere, and there were holes in the pages where the author had scrubbed out words. The notes she’d scribbled to herself in the margins were tiny, written at angles and even upside down. For now, Liv ignored them to concentrate on the story.

She found Essie’s twentieth book to have the bones of a good tale. Her pulse sped when the tension ratcheted up, though not as much as usual. Tears didn’t spring to her eyes during the emotional scenes. Her heart radiated hope the story would come together as she kept turning the pages, but there was something terribly wrong. Liv sucked on the end of her pen and realized she couldn’t see herself in the book. She couldn’t become Georgia in the story.

The heroine’s usual sweet but determined persona had a weary bitterness about it, and her jovial, whip smart banter was tired and tetchy. Georgia had always been teetotal, to appeal to her teenage audience as well as adults, so Liv raised a disappointed eyebrow when she reached for a whiskey bottle to drown her sorrows. She spent lots of time alone rather than throwing herself into new adventures.

Hmm, rather like Essie, Liv mused.

The author and her heroine seemed to have become intertwined on the page, and not in a good way. Georgia only sprang off the page when she harked back to the love of her life.

“I was a fool to try to change you,” Georgia said. She tossed her hair and her copper curls bounced around her face. She tried to disguise the pain and longing in her eyes, at seeing the only man she’d ever truly loved again. It was a moment she’d replayed in her head many times over. She often felt she couldn’t live without him.

He reached out for her hand. “I can offer you my mind but never my heart,” he said.

Every molecule of Georgia’s body cried out for him to kiss her. “Please,” she said. “If we try hard enough, I know we can make it work...”