What the heart wants

INGLEFIELD Publishing Group, Primrose Barry speaking, good morning.” Primrose heard the coins drop at the other end of the line. Someone calling from a telephone kiosk. “Primrose?” Hearing her sister’

FRANCE, October 1918. The chocolate bar in her apron pocket had been calling to her for hours before Priscilla Pickard was able to sneak out of the tent and have a moment’s peace. She wandered several

I WAS a nightmare in the early days of my marriage, I admit it. I’d met Johnny on a skiing holiday in Courchevel, where we’d both gone with groups of chums. Johnny was the most daring of us and the be

THE clatter of kitchen pots quietened as Mawgan came in. Even servants farthest from the door stopped their chatter to hear what news he brought. But Deb only became aware of him later. “I’m glad to s

THE house in Camden was even more dilapidated than Primrose remembered from her one previous visit. At the top of the crumbly steps Primrose rang the bell and read the names below it, written on a scr

THE train was slowing. Augustine Brown looked again at the letter in her hand. Exciting news! her sister Cordelia had written. “An unexpected guest at the hotel: Maria Mironova. Exciting news indeed.