In a town whose name inspires hope, heartache and pain reside.
Michael Hunter has travel across the county from Chicago to the Oregon town his wife had loved as a child. Desiring to find peace—or something—he is desperate to spend time in this town and grieve his wife while taking stock of his life. Fate (or perhaps more) brings him across the path of Anna Williams, a curmudgeon who seems to have plenty of secrets of her own. And then there’s Tracy Campbell. A woman who raises feelings in Michael he hasn’t felt in a long time, feelings he needs to ignore.
Anna is nursing a twenty-year-old heartache. She shut herself off from the outside years ago, preferring to care for her wounded animals and staying inside her small house. So why in the world did she offer for a stranger to live in her annex? Is she that lonely?
Tracy Campbell loves the town of Hope Harbor, Oregon. Even when she left for college and then for a job away from home, she always knew she would return to her family’s cranberry farm. But now they are in danger of losing it. And she’s in danger of losing her heart…again.
This story moved along well. While not one of the romantic suspense Irene Hannon is best known for, there is plenty of mystery. Why is Michael really in Hope Harbor? What happened with Anna and her son? Or Tracy’s husband? And all of that keeps the story moving along at a rapid pace. They chemistry between Michael and Tracy is almost immediate and the anticipation of when they are going to act on it keeps you turning the pages as well. Hannon also introduces readers to the difficult life and the labor of love that goes into running a family farm. Despite the struggles and the monetary strain, the family pushes on. The characters were well-rounded and likable—even Anna with her curt words and need for privacy grows on the reader as you learn more of her story. This is definitely one to pick up.
***Revell Publishing provided me with a complimentary copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and fair review. All opinions expressed are my own.