Part 24 (2/2)

”There's not only room in my house, there's room in my life, and there's a room in my heart reserved for you, only. Drew and I desperately want you to come home.”

”There's just one more thing and it's a deal-breaker.”

”Okay.” Her stomach clenched tight until she spotted the corner of his mouth twitch.

”Your station wagon,” he said. ”It's a piece of junk, and it's got to go. There's a Land Rover for sale in Bounty Bay. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, but I figure Drew and I could give you a hand with it. Kind of a new family project.”

”A family project, huh?”

”I can't have my wife and son getting stuck in the mud again, can I?”

She couldn't stop herself from squeaking out, ”Wife?”

”I love you, Lauren. Marry me, share your son with me and be my family.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and covered his face with ”yeses” and kisses. One thought resonated through every part of her being, swelling her heart to overflowing.

Nate loved her, and Nate loved Drew.

And Nate was coming home to where his heart was, with his new family who treasured it, oh so much.

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Available June 17th 2015 Know Your Heart (Far North Book 2) He is the one she couldn't remember. She is the one he couldn't forget...

After being unexpectedly kicked off a movie set, her part given to a younger actress, Savannah Payne flees to her holiday house in Bounty Bay. There, in her little hideaway managed for her by her older cousin, she'll be able to lick her wounds privately, and prepare for an audition of a lifetime in L.A. Only her cousin has rented the place out to an old friend for the next month. A friend whose knowledge of the law means she has no easy way to evict her stop-the-heart s.e.xy tenant. He tempts her, challenges her, and sees to the heart of who she is with knowing ice-blue eyes.

Glen Cooper has woken up and smelled the decaying roses. Working in his father's law firm is murder on his creative heart. A month in New Zealand's sub-tropical Far North without the distraction of family and work is what he needs to finally complete writing the book he's worked on for years. He hadn't antic.i.p.ated the woman who'd haunted his university days arriving on his doorstep, demanding her house back. But the distraction of her close by must stop. With a literary agent's deadline approaching, he has to ignore his growing attraction to Savannah or his dream may never become a reality.

Something about Glen stirs Savannah's blood and the slippery memories of a quiet young man she glimpsed in the background of her tumultuous teenage years begin to return. But how can they make the sacrifice love requires when she has one foot out the door-ready to walk away from him a second time?

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EXCERPT OF KNOW YOUR HEART.

Chapter 1.

”I know who you are. What do you want?”

Savannah Payne blinked at the scruffy man in blue jeans filling up the front door of her hideaway house in Bounty Bay.

Granted, she hadn't expected a warm Far North welcome, considering she planned to kick him off her property. She'd had an a-ha moment back home in Auckland yesterday as she packed her suitcases. Her cousin, Nate, had called a month ago when she was on location in the States, asking if an old university friend could stay in her house for six weeks to write his book. She'd agreed with a mi casa es su casa sort of thing, impatient to get back to filming the movie which would catapult her back into the limelight.

But now she was twenty-seven years old and effectively unemployed. And Nate's friend was in her house.

A house she desperately wanted to curl up in and hide from paparazzi who'd love the chance to snap a photo of Savannah Payne, failing actress.

Is there any truth to the rumors about the last years of your marriage? And Savannah, Savannah! How do you feel about being kicked out of your comeback movie role by an actress five years younger and twenty-five pounds lighter?

Karma, maybe?

Cue slathering on the charm, in order to get Nate's friend out.

”Oh.” She slid up the oversized sungla.s.ses onto her head and bared her teeth in what she hoped was an irresistible smile with enough wattage to turn the man's frown upside down. ”I'd like to have a little chat with you-I'm the owner of this property.”

”As I said, Savannah, I know who and what you are.” The man lounged in the doorway, making no move to invite her in or to come out to chat with her.

His pale blue gaze skipped coolly up her length, from the tips of her suede boots to the long hair spilling over her silk s.h.i.+rt. Good thing after her latest humiliation she hadn't succ.u.mbed to the ranks of the Sweatpants Brigade. Yet. Peering in the rear-view mirror a few minutes ago she'd taken the time to apply another coat of mascara and fluff up her travel-weary hair. If you look confident, her mother's voice instructed in Sav's inner ear, you'll be confident-and when you were about to evict a stranger from your house, it seemed pertinent to use every weapon at your disposal.

”So, Nate told you I owned the place?”

”Yeah.” Muscles flexed beneath his long-sleeved, grey Henley as he pushed his gla.s.ses up his nose.

The muscles were a surprise, but the tortoisesh.e.l.l, hipster-style gla.s.ses on a guy supposedly writing a book? Please. What a stereotype.

”You're friends from university days, aren't you?” She kept her tone light and easy. A determined we're having a nice, friendly chat kind of tone. ”Nate and I spent a lot of time together back then, but I don't remember you.”

Three years younger than her cousin, Savannah was still in high school while Nate slogged away at his journalism degree. She'd often hang with him and his mates at his student flat. Another quick peek of impressive biceps as the man folded his arms. Wouldn't she remember such a hottie amongst Nate's friends?

”Why would you?” He huffed out a sigh. ”Look, I'm right in the middle of something, so can we skip the school days memories?”

Behind her, in the thousands of acres of native bush surrounding the house, wind soughed through the trees, bringing with it the kiss of rain. She s.h.i.+vered in the spring air. She should've brought her coat from her hired four-wheel-drive, since apparently this guy had the manners of a man raised by jackals.

Savannah's smile wavered. ”Can I at least come inside? Gavin, isn't it?”

A long pause. ”Glen. Glen Cooper. And no, I'd rather talk to you out here.”

”But it's my house.”

”Yep, it is.”

Yep? Yep, with folded arms and a thousand-yard stare? Surely, a guy supposedly writing a book could be a little more verbally forthcoming. ”I'd like it back. My house, that is.”

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