A Sinclair Homecoming
Free from the past Wade Sinclair knows you can't run from the past–he's tried. After his beloved sister was murdered, he ran from Alaska to California only to discover there was no escape. So when a family crisis calls him back, he discovers therapist Morgan O'Hare knee-deep in their affairs. As soon as he meets Morgan, he feels as if there is brightness in the world again.It would be inappropriate for them to get involved, yet the spark is irresistible. Wade never expected this kind of joy again. But is he really ready for this? Together, maybe they could find the strength to move on…if they're brave enough to try.
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Free from the past
Wade Sinclair knows you canât run from the pastâheâs tried. After his beloved sister was murdered, he ran from Alaska to California only to discover there was no escape. So when a family crisis calls him back, he discovers therapist Morgan OâHare knee-deep in their affairs. As soon as he meets Morgan, he feels as if there is brightness in the world again.
It would be inappropriate for them to get involved, yet the spark is irresistible. Wade never expected this kind of joy again. But is he really ready for this? Together, maybe they could find the strength to move on...if theyâre brave enough to try.
âCan you help my mom?â
âI will certainly try,â Morgan answered. âA key to successful therapy is the patientâs willingness to accept help.â
âWell, sheâs not exactly jumping up and down at the idea,â Wade admitted wryly. âShould we talk about the elephant in the room?â At Morganâs quizzical expression, he said, âSimoneâs deathâ¦â
âAh, that. Yes, well, grief can cause all kinds of emotional as well as physical manifestations.â
âWell, some people arenât as strong as others, I suppose.â
âItâs not a question of strength,â she corrected him with a gentle smile. âSome people find a way to cope but that doesnât mean theyâve processed their feelings in a healthy manner.â
Why did it feel as though she was talking about him? âWell, at any rateâ¦sheâs ready for you. I just wanted to warn you before sending you into the lionâs den.â
âThank you for trusting me with that information. Oh, and FYI, the coffee here will put hair on your chest. Very strong.â And then she left, coffee cup in hand, inadvertently causing a flush of awareness to remind him that he was a man and she was a beautiful woman.
He rubbed at his eyes, embarrassed by his inappropriate thought about his motherâs therapist.
I confess, when I first started writing Morgan OâHare and Wade Sinclairâs story, I wasnât quite sure who they were aside from the superficial. It wasnât until I dug deeper into their story that their hearts were revealed to me. Thatâs what makes my job as a writer so rewarding. I love discovering deeper meaning in the words and honoring the charactersâ journey as they find love.
Wade and Morgan are two people who are strong, professional and capable, yet under the surface, they are seething with dark hurts which are preventing them from claiming their joy. The road to true happiness is never easy but itâs the only road worth traveling, in my opinion, and I hope you agree as you turn the pages on Wade and Morganâs love affair.
I enjoy hearing from readers. I can be found on Facebook, Twitter and through my website at www.kimberlyvanmeter.com, or you can send me something in the mail at P.O. BOX 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.
Kimberly Van Meter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kimberly Van Meter wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Mills & Boon Superromance and Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
IF INSOMNIA WAS the devilâs handmaiden then Wade Sinclair was her bitch most nights.
Like tonight.
He rolled to his side, refusing to look at the red numbers glowing from his digital alarm clock because he didnât want to know how much sleep he wasnât getting. Five a.m. came early when operating on very little sleep.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried meditating but his mind was too unruly to cooperate.
Each time he came close to drifting to sleep, his baby sisterâs face popped into his mental theater, and sleep fled like a deer with a cougar on its tail.
Simoneâpretty, charming, too smart for her britchesâdead.
Itâs been eight years, he wanted to groan as if trying to negotiate with whatever demon prevented his eyes from closing and his mind from resting. How much longer was he supposed to carry this burden of unending grief and guilt?
He rolled to his feet and walked to the window to stare out across the forested land of the Yosemite National Park. But instead of California pines, he saw Alaskan hemlock and spruce, native to the Kenai mountains of his homeland. He saw the deep snow that had blanketed the ground and made the terrain hard to traverse. He saw his sisterâs body trundled into the body bag as they carried her away.
This was Traceâs fault. If his brother hadnât kept bugging him about coming home, he wouldnât have been reminded daily of that awful day. No witnesses saw Simone climb into the car with her killer that night. No witnesses ever came forward to lend any clues.
