by Karina Halle
The thing is, if I had given all of this a little more thought, if I’d had a little more time, I’m sure I might have come to this conclusion. When Eddie first told me I had a chance to move to Norway, memories of Laila drifted through my head. She’d left her position as nanny to the Fairfaxes because her beloved grandmother, who lived in a tiny village in northern Norway, had gotten sick, and she wanted to be with her. I know it was a tough decision for Laila to make, but since her grandmother raised her and they were especially close, she didn’t have much choice.
At that point, Laila thought I was an outright wanker, so we weren’t really on speaking terms anyway. The most I would get out of her was a stiff nod of recognition as we passed each other in the halls. One day I found out that she was gone, and that was that. Never heard from her, or about her, again. Until now.
“Must be a relief to see a familiar face,” Magnus says to me. “That’s why I put your room right next to hers.”
Bloody hell.
Photo courtesy of the author
About the Author
Karina Halle is a screenwriter, a former music and travel journalist, and the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels all across the romance genre.
She lives with her musician husband and their adopted pit bull on an island off the coast of British Columbia, where the trees are tall, the ocean is wild, and the ideas for her future books never stop flowing.
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