About the Author

      Australian author JENNIE ADAMS grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books, and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including transcription typist and pre-school assistant. She is the proud mother of three fabulous adult children, and makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time Jennie loves long, rambling walks, discovering new music, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, trips to the movies, and new dining experiences.

      Jennie loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net

      Dear Reader,

      When I started the story of Jayne Cutter, a career-focused businesswoman in her mid-thirties, I knew Alex MacKay, the youngest of my three MacKay brothers, would be the perfect match for her.

      Jayne is uncomfortable with the idea of commitment, and isn’t facing the real reasons for that. When she falls for Alex, a younger man, she worries about getting into a damaging relationship where there are age disparities, as her father has done so repeatedly since Jayne’s mother left the family many years ago.

      Alex MacKay was dumped on the doorstep of a Sydney orphanage as a baby. He has two wonderful adopted brothers and they should be all the family he needs—so why can’t Alex get rid of the restlessness that plagues him, the feeling that there is something more out there somewhere?

      Alex and Jayne join forces for business reasons. Life throws them into each other’s emotional journey, pulling away layer upon layer of self-protectiveness until their real emotions, needs, hopes and fears must be exposed if they are to have any hope of a future together.

      Please join me as I take Jayne and Alex on a journey through some of Australia’s beautiful country, and on a personal journey that will help them both to recognise and accept all they are as individuals, and what they can mean to each other.

      Love and hugs from Australia,

       Jennie

      Thanks to the team at Neighbours for inspiring this story, particularly you, Mr. Hannam, with your talk of delicious, barefoot Italian men making gnocchi.

      As always, this book would not exist if

       Chris was not by my side, mopping my fevered brow

       and rubbing my shoulders and making me laugh.

       And then there is Wanda, who always makes my

       writing better, always knows best and always makes

       me laugh even when I think I want to cry. You rock.

       CHAPTER ONE

      “I DON’T FEEL SO GOOD.” Lucy Basso pressed a hand to her stomach. “Maybe I should do this another time.”

      Her sister Rosetta rolled her eyes and passed the menu over.

      “Stop being such a wuss,” Rosie said, scanning the menu. “I’m going to have the pesto and goat’s cheese focaccia. What about you?”

      “How about a nervous breakdown?” Lucy said.

      Around them, the staff and patrons of their favorite inner-city Melbourne café went about their business, laughing, talking, drinking and eating as though none of them had a care in the world.

      Lucy stared at them with envy.

       I bet none of you are unexpectedly pregnant. I bet none of you are so stupidly, childishly scared of telling your Catholic Italian mother that you decided to do it in a public place so she couldn’t yell too loudly. I bet none of you are contemplating standing up right now and hightailing it out of here and moving to another country so you never have to look into her face and see how disappointed she is in you.

      Her sister placed the menu flat on the table and gave Lucy one of her Lawyer Looks. Over the years, Rosie had perfected several, and Lucy kept a running tally of them. This was Lawyer Look Number Three—the my-client-is-an-idiot-but-I-will-endure-because-I’m-being-paid one.

      “There’s no point worrying about something you can’t change. And it’s not like you’ve robbed a bank or become a Buddhist, God forbid. You made a baby with the man you love. So what if you’re not married to him? So what if he’s just left you for another woman? None of that is your fault. Well, not technically.”

      Lucy narrowed her eyes, for a moment forgetting her nerves. “What’s that supposed to mean? Which bit is technically not my fault? Us not being married or his leaving me? And please do not tell me that you think us being married would have made a difference to this situation, because that’s so not true. I’d just be sitting here with a stupid ring on my finger and he’d still be having tantric sex with Belinda the Nimble.”

      Rosie smiled. “There, see? All you needed was to get a little temper going, and you’re fine.”

      She looked so pleased with herself, Lucy had to laugh.

      “You are the worst. Please tell me you have a trick like that up your sleeve for when Ma starts crossing herself and beating her chest.”

      “She hasn’t beaten her chest for years. Not since we told her it was making her boobs sag prematurely,” Rosie said. “And what’s with the nimble thing, by the way? You always call Belinda that. Personally, I prefer ‘that slut,’ but I’m hard like that.”

      Lucy reached for the sugar bowl and dug the teaspoon deep into the tiny, shiny crystals.

      “It’s one of the things Marcus said when he told me he was leaving. That he’d met someone, and she was beautiful and captivating and nimble.”

      Even though two months had passed since that horrible, soul-destroying conversation, Lucy still felt the sting of humiliation and hurt. She’d been so secure in Marcus’s love. So certain that no matter what else was going wrong in her life—and the list seemed to be growing longer by the day—he’d always be there for her.

      Ha.

      “Nimble. What the hell does that mean? That she can put her ankles behind her ears? Like that’s going to see them through the hard times,” Rosie said.

      Lucy shrugged miserably, then caught herself. She was wallowing again. The moment she knew she was pregnant, she’d made a deal with herself that self-pity was out the window. The days of self-indulgent cannoli pig-outs were over. She had another person to consider now. A person who was going to be totally dependent on her for everything for so many years it was almost impossible to comprehend.

      “Hello, my darlings, so sorry I’m late.”

      Lucy and Rosie started in their seats. When it came to sneaking up on people unawares, their mother was a world champion. It was a talent she’d mastered when they were children, and it never failed to unsettle them both.

      “Why you had to choose this place when the parking is so bad and my cornetti are ten times better, I don’t