Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Sixteen years later, after a tumultuous divorce from her abusive husband, Charli is returning to Ireland a shell of the woman she once was. Life has tried to break her many times over, and now all she wants is a fresh start and an even keel. She’ll be working as an accountant at her uncle’s hotel, but what she doesn’t know is that Rhys Doyle works there, too. He’s the head of security, in fact, and he’s no longer the teenage boy she once knew.
With the rumours flying around that he and his fiancée just broke off their engagement, Charli decides it’s best to give Rhys his space. She knows personally how hard it can be when a relationship ends. The problem is, she can’t seem to stop running into him, and the more she gets to know the man he’s become the more those old feelings start to return.
Tropes &
~Second chance~
~Workplace romance~
~Protector hero~
~Summer fling~
~Tragic past~
~Starting over~
Quiet Longing is book #2 in The Quiet Love Series and can be read as a standalone.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Part One:
The Past
1.
Charli
Sixteen years ago.
I was nervous.
Not surprising since it was my first time away from home. It was also my first time stepping foot in another country. I was completely out of my element, had never even been on an airplane before, and was flying solo.
I gripped the straps of my backpack while waiting for my suitcase to appear on the carousel at Dublin Airport. It was late evening, and my flight from Boston had just arrived. I was spending the summer with my cousin, Nuala (pronounced Noo-la), at my aunt and uncle’s house.
Uncle Padraig (pronounced Pod-rig) was my mom’s brother and the big success of the family. He’d made his fortune by becoming the owner of two five-star hotels in Dublin. One was in the city while the other was closer to their family home on the coast.
Sadly, I wasn’t going to be staying at either hotel, but I would be working in one of them. My uncle had invited me to visit before I started college in the fall. He’d meant it to be a vacation, but Mom had refused to let me go unless I paid my way. So, I was going to be working as a kitchen porter, which I guessed was similar to a busboy. Still, I only had to work part-time. The rest of my time would be my own, and I was eager to explore and experience the country where my mom grew up.
I was also excited to spend time with my relatives.
My cousin, Nuala, was supposed to be meeting me at the airport. I hadn’t seen her or her brothers, Tristan and Derek, since they were little. The whole family used to visit the States when we were kids, but then Mom fought with Uncle Padraig, and things turned frosty between the families after that. They only started to thaw about two years ago when my father passed away and Uncle Padraig reached out to Mom.
Anyway, I was pretty sure this trip was his way of mending whatever bridges had been broken between them. Mom never told me what they’d argued over, but I had a suspicion it was about money. Padraig probably offered some to Mom since we were always struggling, and she was too proud and mulish to accept.
At long last, after most of the other passengers on my flight had collected their luggage, my suitcase appeared. I grabbed it hastily, made a quick trip to the bathroom then walked to Arrivals, hoping my cousin was there already, and I wouldn’t have to hang around waiting.
Nuala was seventeen, a year younger than me. Her brother Derek was the eldest at nineteen, and Tristan was also seventeen since he and Nuala were twins. I remembered her as this gorgeous, blonde, freckle-faced eight-year-old with long, willowy limbs and brown doe eyes. I’d been her opposite with my dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and chubby cheeks. Even now, I was still a little chubby. I’d always been self-conscious about it despite my attempts to love myself no matter what I looked like.
It didn’t help that Mom prided herself on being rail thin without ever really having to try. I took more after my dad’s side of the family, the Italian side, and like them, I’d always been a big foodie. I loved fast food, convenience food, healthy food, luxury food. You named it; I was probably going to eat it. I liked to think of myself as a sensualist in that respect, though really, I just loved to eat.
Nuala and I had connected over email a few weeks ago. I told her a bit about my life: just finished high school; headed to college to study Business and Accounting in the fall; no boyfriend; two close BFFs, Lydia and Gwyn. And she’d filled me in on hers: about to start senior year of what they called secondary school at the end of summer; also no boyfriend (or girlfriend); a small group of friends, but no one she’d consider a BFF.
I felt a little sorry for her hearing the last part, but who was I to judge? Maybe not everybody needed a best friend.
We’d exchanged pictures so I knew what she looked like all grown up. She was still blonde and willowy; only now, she could add ethereally beautiful to the list.
I spotted her right away. She wore a pale yellow sun dress paired with a white cotton wrap, ankle boots, and tortoiseshell glasses. She looked fresh and glorious while I felt like death warmed over after the long flight.
I’d been stuck sitting between a couple who at first wanted me to switch seats with them so they could sit together then proceeded to get into an argument and wanted to switch back again. I obliged them both times, mainly because I wasn’t an experienced flier and didn’t have the confidence to say no. Then the person sitting in front of me decided to put their seat back while I was leaning forward to take a sip from my water bottle, causing my head to bump harshly against the seat.