Susanne Hampton
As I was putting the final touches to this book I was
given the news that my amazing editor Charlotte was
moving along her career pathway and would no longer
be working with me. So this will be my final dedication
to her and my last written recognition of her guidance,
patience, much needed honesty and unwavering belief
in my work. However, what I have learnt from her over
the last five books will travel with me on my writing
journey, so in many ways all of my books and writing
success in the future will be a dedication to
Charlotte Mursell.
Thank you, Charlotte.
DR HEATH ROLLINS momentarily looked away from the emails on his laptop computer, across the living room of the family home, to see his father sitting by the lace dressed bay window in his favourite armchair. With the mid-morning sunlight streaming into the room, he was intently reading the paper. Heath smiled a bittersweet smile as his gaze roamed to the old oversized chair, upholstered in green and blue tartan. It was a piece of furniture his mother had tried to have re-covered or removed from their home for many years but Ken Rollins had been adamant that it stayed. And stayed exactly as it was. It was a Clan Sutherland tartan, of the Highland Clans of Scotland, Heath would hear his father tell his mother, and it had direct links to the maternal side of his family. She would tell him that family connections or not, it was an extremely unattractive chair that looked out of place in their new French provincial decor. Frankly, it was hideous and it just didn’t belong.
His mother and father had argued about very little except that chair. But, unlike all those years ago, now his father was stuck in that now slightly worn chair for hours on end, his leg elevated and his knee freshly dressed after surgery. And there were no more arguments about the chair as Heath’s mother had passed away twenty years ago.
Heath then caught sight of his own suitcases, stacked against
