Novels by Tina Savage

Chapter 4: The Return of the TideThe northern coast in April was still cold enough to sting the lungs, but the sun had begun to linger longer each day, painting the sea in hesitant shades of silver and pale gold. Veronica’s cottage sat on a low bluff, whitewashed walls peeling at the edges like old secrets. Inside, everything was small and deliberate: one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen barely wide enough for two people to stand side by side, and a living room that doubled as dining space. She had furnished it with second-hand pieces—nothing that carried memories, nothing that asked questions.She was twenty-two weeks pregnant now. The bump was no longer something she could hide beneath loose sweaters. It curved gently beneath the soft gray tunic she wore most days, a constant, living reminder of the night she had chosen recklessness over reason.Every morning she walked the narrow path down to the pebbled beach, let the wind slap her cheeks until they burned, and talked to the chil

Chapter 3: The Shadow of DiscoveryThe next three weeks were a fever dream wrapped in silk and secrets.Veronica learned the rhythm of Ethan’s body the way she once learned the rhythm of seasons slowly, then all at once, completely. They stole time in fragments: late nights in his apartment when Sandra believed he was at the university library, early mornings in her new rented studio flat (a small but bright one-bedroom she’d signed the lease on the day after their first night together), hurried lunches in the back of his car parked in the underground garage beneath Lawson Luxe Tower.Every touch carried risk. Every kiss tasted like stolen oxygen.And every time she looked into his eyes afterward when they lay tangled in sheets, breathing hard, hearts still racing she saw the same question reflected back at her: *How long can this last?*She told herself it was temporary. A beautiful, reckless interlude. Something to remind her that desire hadn’t died inside her, only gone dormant. Sh

Chapter 2: The First SparkThe first week at Lawson Luxe passed in a blur of new passwords, color-coded calendars, and the constant scent of fresh coffee and expensive perfume. Veronica moved through the glass-and-steel world like someone learning to walk again after years of sitting still. Every email she answered, every meeting she scheduled, every fabric sample she organized felt like proof she still existed outside the four walls of her childhood bedroom.Sandra was exactly as she remembered demanding, brilliant, and surprisingly fair. She didn’t coddle Veronica. She expected perfection and, when it was delivered, offered only a small nod of approval. It was enough. More than enough.On Friday afternoon, Veronica stayed late to finish reorganizing the CEO’s digital filing system. The office had emptied out. The open-plan floor was quiet except for the low hum of the air-conditioning and the occasional ping of an arriving email. She liked the silence. It gave her room to think, to

Chapter 1: The Quiet YearsThe morning light filtered through the lace curtains of the small bedroom Veronica Hale had occupied since she was eighteen. At forty, the room still smelled faintly of the lavender sachets her mother insisted on tucking into every drawer. Nothing had really changed. The same oak dresser with the chipped corner from when she’d slammed it in anger at seventeen. The same twin bed with the faded floral quilt her grandmother had sewn. The same framed photograph on the nightstand of her wedding day—smiling too wide, eyes too hopeful, standing beside a man who would eventually decide she was no longer enough.She stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft clink of dishes downstairs. Her parents were already awake, moving through the familiar choreography of breakfast. Her father would be reading the morning paper, grumbling about the rising cost of fuel. Her mother would be humming an old hymn while she scrambled eggs. Routine. Safe. Suffocating.Veronica closed