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      MILLS & BOON

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      BRONWYN JAMESON

      spent much of her childhood with her head buried in a book. As a teenager, she discovered romance novels, and it was only a matter of time before she turned her love of reading them into a love of writing them. Bronwyn shares an idyllic piece of the Australian farming heartland with her husband and three sons, a thousand sheep, a dozen horses, assorted wildlife and one kelpie dog. She still chooses to spend her limited downtime with a good book. Bronwyn loves to hear from readers. Write to her at [email protected].

      For my boys—thanks for your support, your humor,

       your insight into the male psyches and the coffee.

       I love you all.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

      One

      It wasn’t like in the movies.

      The action didn’t cut to slow motion as her tires lost traction in the loose gravel, sending the car into a wildly slewing fishtail. The camera didn’t zoom to closeup as she wrestled for control of the wheel. There was no sense of time standing still. No sudden clarity of thought, sound, motion. No if-onlys.

      One second Julia Goodwin was proceeding at her usual sensible speed, midway through the twelve-mile drive from her home in Plenty to her sister’s country property; the next she came upon a trio of magpies directly in her path. And seemingly the next second after that she was sitting there, steering wheel clutched in a death grip, going nowhere. In between there had undoubtedly been some swerving, slewing and wrestling, but not much thinking.

      Finally she opened her eyes—to the sight of a kangaroo loping through the summer-dry grass that edged the unsealed road. The big grey stopped and lifted its head to scent the air.

      “Now if you had been sitting on the road, big guy, I’d have had reason to take evasive action.” As the animal bounded gracefully over a fence and disappeared from sight, she shook her head in self-reproach. During countless driving lessons, many along this same road, she’d been told never to swerve for wildlife. To slow down, hit the horn and let them do their own evading.

      Except Julia would never risk hurting any living thing, birds included. So she had closed her eyes, braked hard and swerved, all of which had probably contributed to her current predicament…and being stuck in this particular roadside ditch was definitely a predicament.

      Because she loved the view from the top of Quilty’s Hill, she’d taken the back road to Chantal’s, and it wasn’t called “the back road” for nothing. Passing traffic was…well…there wasn’t any.

      Still, it appeared she had survived the sudden stop in one piece. Shifting gingerly in her seat, she wriggled her legs, moved her neck one way and then the other. Her head didn’t fall off, and that had to be a plus. Finger by finger she unglued her hands from the wheel and, despite a bad case of the tremors, she managed to both straighten her sunglasses and release her seat belt.

      It took longer to deal with the door latch and when she tried to stand, her legs collapsed from under her. Fine. The situation could be assessed as easily from ground level. In fact from this angle she could see exactly why she wasn’t going anywhere.

      The car had come to rest—in the loosest sense of the phrase—on the rim of a table drain. If she had been driving her father’s Mercedes instead of her mother’s hatchback, it would have resembled a beached whale. High and dry and immovable. The gurgling and hissing coming from under the hood might indicate radiator damage, and now she looked more closely the front tire appeared flattish.

      But, it could have been much worse. Julia herself had escaped uninjured. For the moment.

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