“You really don’t work at anything?”
Sienna’s gaze flicked from his clearly expensive house and back to him.
“Life’s short,” Jack said flippantly. “I live for pleasure.”
Suspicion clouded her expression. “Then how do you get money?”
“I’m not a drug dealer. Nothing illegal is going on.”
“But you must have worked at some point.” She leaned on the porch railing, studying him. “Are you really content with just hobbies?”
He sensed she wanted to like him. He wasn’t being egotistical to think that. And he was attracted to her. Yet it was clear she couldn’t help judging him. Self-indulgent. Lazy. Hedonistic. He could almost hear the pronouncements flowing through her mind. Those qualities weren’t what she, a doctor, stood for.
“I’m not a bad person,” he said, attempting to make a joke of it. “In fact, you and I operate by the same code—first, do no harm.”
“You don’t do harm by having a job.”
“I had a job once.” He shrugged. “I got tired of it.”
It had been a great job, too. One he loved. But he’d screwed up. And Leanne had paid the price.
Dear Reader,
My life, knock on wood, has so far been free of major misfortune. When I hear or read about people whose lives have been taken from joy to tragedy after a fatal accident, it tears at my heart. They will be living with the physical and emotional consequences of their trauma for years to come.
How do they cope? What do they endure? Family and friends play a major role in helping people heal. But sometimes that’s not enough. I wish I could give everyone out there a happy ending, but as a writer all I can do is give my characters a happy-ever-after and hope that their stories will touch hearts and give hope.
Jack Thatcher, hero of Her Great Expectations, is beloved by his family, friends and community. Three years after the death of his wife in a plane crash, Jack appears to be coping but inside, guilt and grief have him in their grip. It takes an outsider, Dr. Sienna Maxwell, to see that Jack is still broken. She challenges rather than coddles him, forcing him to confront his darkest fears and, finally, to heal.
Her Great Expectations is the first book in the Summerside Stories series. These stories are about siblings Jack, Renita and Lexie, and their lives and loves in a small Australian town by the sea. They’re about family, friendship and community, all the things that make the world go around.
I love to hear from readers. You can email me at www.joankilby.com or write to me c/o Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, ON, M3B 3K9 Canada.
Joan Kilby
Her Great Expectations
Joan Kilby
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Joan Kilby lives in a small seaside village in Australia very much like the town of Summerside in Her Great Expectations. Many of the geographical features in the story are real and an inspiration to Joan. She loves walking along the creek with her Jack Russell terrier, Toby. And she, her husband and their three grown children enjoy warm summer evenings on the deck with a glass of wine and a barbecue. Watching the rainbow lorikeets flit home among the gum trees as the sun sets over the bay is just about as idyllic as it gets.
To Victoria Curran, my wonderful editor,
whose insight, talent and hard work
help make my books the best they can be.
She hauls me back when I go over the top,
“roughs” me up when I get too soft and
gives me a much-needed pat on the back
when I dig deep and make it “real.”
Thank you, Victoria!
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DR. SIENNA MAXWELL WAS trying hard to ignore the ridiculously good-looking man on the other side of the greengrocer. Then a burst of rich male laughter mingled with an elderly lady’s girlish giggle made her glance up again. Casually elegant in a thin black V-necked sweater and tan pants, he could have been George Clooney’s younger brother with his thick rumpled dark hair, warm brown eyes and engaging smile. As she watched, he made a kiwifruit appear from behind the ear of the pink-cheeked, white-haired granny who was, unbelievably, flirting with him.
Tucking back a long corkscrew of red hair, Sienna focused on the fat white bulbs and feathery green fronds of fresh fennel. Even though she had no idea how to cook them, she placed two in her shopping cart while still taking note of the man’s every movement.
He placed the kiwifruit in the woman’s basket, gently squeezed her shoulder and moved on, only to be stopped by a hearty greeting from a man with a beefy red face. Relaxed and cheerful, the Clooney look-alike cocked a hip and leaned on his cart to settle in for a chat as if he had all the time in the world.
A warning vibration burred in Sienna’s jacket pocket—her phone alarm giving her a ten-minute reminder to get back to the clinic for her first patient of the afternoon. She’d rushed out during her lunch break to pick up a few specialty items she needed for a Thai curry because Glyneth and Rex were coming out from the city. Sienna had rashly promised her friends a special dinner, boasting she was going to cook it herself.
Distracted by snatches of the man’s smooth deep voice, she found her gaze drifting across the store again. Now a woman in her thirties towing two young children had stopped to say a few words to him. While they chatted a retired couple waved and called out a greeting. He seemed to know everyone in town.
In stark contrast to her own situation. When she’d moved to the village she’d had a romantic notion of hosting casual dinner parties. Two months in, she still didn’t know anyone she could invite over for coffee, much less spend Saturday evening with. She was simply too busy working to find the time to make friends. Oh, she had Oliver, but he was spending more and more time with his mates from school.
Sienna remembered she had a grocery list and checked it. Kaffir lime leaves, whatever those were. As she turned her cart toward the Asian food section, she cast a last covert glance at the dark-haired man. She didn’t know if she wanted to be him, or do him. Not that she was in the habit of “doing” anyone. At least not in a long time. But there was something about this guy that was stirring her dormant hormones to life. How was it she’d been in Summerside for three months and never run into him before?
Dark eyes set in a tanned masculine face met her gaze across the central display of cut flowers. A small smile played around the corners of a mouth with just the right combination of angles and curves to be ultrasexy.
Heat rose in her cheeks at being caught staring. Sienna blindly pushed her cart forward, noting with clinical detachment her rush of adrenaline and increased heart rate. Get a grip. She was an adult, not a teenager. A doctor, with loftier thoughts than rampant sex among the squashes.
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