Lara Reddy is fleeing London. After her husband dumps her and she bumps into him and his pregnant new missus, she jumps on a prestigious job offer. The kicker? The job is in Mauritius, the homeland of her Indian-origin parents, and a restrictive society she ran away from over a decade earlier.
Divorce paints a scarlet letter on her chest when she returns to the culture-driven island. Once there, Lara has no escape--not from the gossip, the contempt, the harassing matchmaking...and certainly not from the man she hoped never to meet again, the boy she’d loved and lost—white Mauritian native, Eric Marivaux.
In the past, fear of social repercussions from the Sectarian crowd her family belongs to kept her from giving her all to Eric. Will standing on the other side be the impetus she needs to take a chance on Eric and love again?
Don’t give in, Lara Reddy repeated like a mantra. Whatever you do, don’t give in.
But who was she kidding? She blew out a deep breath. The warm air feathered through her long fringe and settled the straight black locks in disarray over her eyes, obliterating her vision. Damn, she didn’t need this. She had to see her surroundings so she could blank out the image burned inside her mind.
As she closed her hand on the smooth, glossy cardboard of the cigarette box in the deepest corner of her Hermès Birkin, she shuddered. She’d kept the package as a reminder she could win over the addiction any time. Today, her ego became her downfall.
You have to fight, Lara.
Fight the urge to have a smoke when she’d been off cigs for over a year. Fight the memory of the indelible sight of Roy, formerly her husband, with another woman. A very pregnant woman. He hadn’t lost any time, the pig. Not yet eleven months since he served the divorce papers, he had remarried, and the missus was expecting.
Everything Lara had failed to be as his wife…. You are not at fault. She hadn’t been ready for children. Right?
Her hand trembled, and she bit back the sob that threatened to fall from her lips. The cardboard box still in her grip, she pulled her hand out of her bag to stare at the pale-gold sealed Benson & Hedges packet.
The plastic wrapper on the box screamed at her to open it, to peel away the layers until she reached the salvation inside.