Paradise, pies, and possibilities. Will Georgia give love a second chance?
Georgia Weber’s debilitating guilt dictates her every move. Ever since her husband died on her watch, she doesn’t trust herself to care for any living thing. But she’s tired of spending long evenings alone. So, when the friendly, pie-baking, fellow volunteer asks her to join him for a meal, she convinces herself he will be nothing more than a supper companion.
Romel Bautista grapples with his role as a parent. Since his divorce, he’s chosen to steer clear of women. All that changes the day he meets Georgia. He falls headlong and imagines a forever commitment. Regrettably, his teenage daughter has other plans for his future.
Georgia can’t deny she’s falling for Romel, but she can’t even trust herself to take care of a pet. How can she commit to anyone long-term? And though Romel yearns to be with Georgia, his heart is torn between compromising his relationship with his daughter or being with the woman he loves.
Will Georgia and Romel be able to overcome their fears and build a life together?
The setting is Hawaii and the heroine is a conflicted widow. This story prominently features animals and volunteers at an animal shelter.
I think readers will enjoy the heroine's interactions with the animals at the shelter, especially an older dog.
Georgia stared at her kitchen calendar, arms cinched across her stomach, guilt trapped in her chest. Three long years since William had died. Three years since she’d watched him collapse. Three years since she’d failed to save him.
She drew the morning air into her lungs. Kept to the morning routine William had established when they first moved to their Hawaiian home. Trudging through the garden as she had every morning since his death, Georgia jotted notes in his leather-bound garden journal, recorded the opening of the pink plumeria, and noted the pests that inhabited the plants. She harvested the first ripe grapefruits from the six-year-old citrus tree, cradled one fruit in each hand, and carried them to the kitchen.
Knife poised, she sliced through the thin rind. Juice squirted into her eyes. Georgia dropped the knife, groped her way to the faucet, and splashed water on her face. She dried with a paper towel and slumped into a kitchen chair. Tears burned her cheeks—the sting no longer from the acidic juice. William should have been there to enjoy the first harvest. And he would have been if only she’d responded more quickly.
Her empty house echoed her sobs until the reverberations settled in her chest and only the familiar hollowness remained.