Authors: Emma Heatherington
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Contemporary Women, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Sagas, #New Adult & College, #Inspirational, #Women's Fiction, #Literature & Fiction
Y
es
,
tha
t
wa
s
i
t
decided
.
Sh
e
woul
d
jus
t
driv
e
around t
o
Ardglas
s
V
illa
s
fo
r
a
nose
y
.
Th
e
plac
e
hadn
’
t
even
existe
d
whe
n
sh
e
live
d
i
n
th
e
villag
e
a
s
a
teenage
r
s
o
it woul
d
b
e
onl
y
righ
t
t
o
chec
k
i
t
out
.
Sh
e
woul
d
drive
through
,
hav
e
a
loo
k
aroun
d
an
d
the
n
g
o
hom
e
an
d
talk t
o
.
.
.
well
,
probabl
y
t
o
th
e
microwav
e
o
r
th
e
television
again
.
Sh
e
wouldn
’
t
eve
n
ge
t
ou
t
o
f
th
e
ca
r
.
Sh
e
woul
d
just
driv
e
throug
h
an
d
leav
e
i
t
a
t
that
.
S
o
sh
e
go
t
int
o
he
r
littl
e
Alph
a
Rome
o
and
,
befor
e
she
coul
d
chang
e
he
r
mind
,
sh
e
drov
e
throug
h
th
e
villag
e
and dow
n
t
o
th
e
entranc
e
o
f
th
e
ver
y
beautifu
l
an
d
ver
y
posh indee
d
Ardglas
s
V
illas
.
I
t
wa
s
a
well-to-d
o
development
,
anyon
e
coul
d
tell
.
It ha
d
redbric
k
pillar
s
a
t
it
s
entranc
e
whic
h
wer
e
framed
wit
h
blac
k
cast-iro
n
fencin
g
an
d
th
e
nam
e
o
f
the
developmen
t
wa
s
proudl
y
displaye
d
o
n
a
blac
k
marble plaqu
e
wit
h
gol
d
lettering
.
Eac
h
o
f
th
e
detache
d
houses wa
s
uniqu
e
i
n
desig
n
bu
t
simila
r
i
n
styl
e
an
d
thei
r
very
presenc
e
an
d
statur
e
reminde
d
Rut
h
o
f
th
e
lif
e
sh
e
could hav
e
ha
d
wit
h
Jeffre
y
.
O
r
Jeffre
y
th
e
Bastar
d
a
s
h
e
was mor
e
commonl
y
know
n
i
n
he
r
ow
n
muddle
d
head
.
Feelin
g
flushe
d
a
t
th
e
ver
y
though
t
o
f
he
r
ex-husband,
sh
e
pu
t
dow
n
he
r
windo
w
a
littl
e
t
o
le
t
som
e
fres
h
ai
r
in an
d
turne
d
th
e
radi
o
dow
n
s
o
sh
e
coul
d
concentrat
e
on takin
g
i
n
ho
w
th
e
othe
r
hal
f
live
d
her
e
i
n
he
r
home
village
,
s
o
man
y
year
s
on
.
Wh
o
live
d
i
n
thes
e
houses
?
Solicitors
,
contractors, teachers
,
accountants
,
sh
e
guessed
.
Sh
e
though
t
eve
n
the bird
s
chirpe
d
loude
r
an
d
mor
e
i
n
tun
e
i
n
thi
s
place.
Stepford
W
ives
hung
out
their
washing
and
retired
gentleme
n
mowe
d
thei
r
lawn
s
i
n
th
e
mornin
g
sunshine
.
It wa
s
lik
e
a
bi
g
cocoo
n
o
f
blissfu
l
living
,
straigh
t
ou
t
o
f
an
Idea
l
Home
s
magazine
.
I
t
wa
s
jus
t
th
e
typ
e
o
f
sigh
t
that woul
d
mak
e
yo
u
boke
.
B
y
th
e
tim
e
sh
e
had
reache
d
th
e
middl
e
o
f
the
development
,
th
e
fac
t
tha
t
sh
e
ha
d
non
e
o
f
thi
s
idyllic
lifestyl
e
an
y
mor
e
bega
n
t
o
cree
p
i
n
o
n
he
r
.
Heavines
s
built
i
n
he
r
che
s
t
a
n
d
a
chokin
g
sensatio
n
nestle
d
i
n
he
r
throat
.
Sh
e
wante
d
t
o
tur
n
an
d
ge
t
ou
t
o
f
ther
e
fast
.
Wha
t
if
s
om
eon
e
recognise
d
her
?
Sh
e
didn
’
t
belon
g
aroun
d
here.
Everyon
e
hate
d
he
r
.
Wha
t
i
f
Poll
y
sa
w
her
?
Sh
e
woul
d
think
sh
e
wa
s a
maniac
!
Sh
e
ha
d
t
o
turn
!
Sh
e
ha
d
t
o
ge
t
ou
t
right awa
y
.
A
t
thi
s
poin
t
sh
e
realise
d
sh
e
wa
s
i
n
a
cu
l
d
e
sac
.
She
woul
d
pic
k
a
drivewa
y
,
an
y
drivewa
y
t
o
tur
n
int
o
an
d
pray ther
e
wer
e
n
o
smal
l
childre
n
outsid
e
playin
g
a
s
sh
e
couldn
’
t
promis
e
sh
e
woul
d
b
e
abl
e
t
o
avoi
d
them
.
O
r
animals
.
She
wa
s
sur
e
t
o
squas
h
someone
’
s
pe
t
Chihuahu
a
wit
h
her flustere
d
three-poin
t
turn
.
Wha
t
wa
s
sh
e
thinkin
g
driving round
,
skulkin
g
abou
t
her
e
anyhow
?
Sh
e
wasn
’
t
that desperat
e
fo
r
a
friend
,
wa
s
she
?