Talk to the Heart (Rose Hill, #3), page 1
Praise for Rachael Johns
‘Modern issues, relatable characters, wit, intelligence and so much warmth—an absolutely unputdownable story.’ —Better Reading on The Work Wives
‘Looks at the power of female friendships, family ties, the search for love and the recovery process after significant trauma. A wise, discerning and entertaining tale, The Work Wives is a great addition to the Rachael Johns collection.’ —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘Johns is one of Australia’s most popular authors, and for good reason—she tells great stories. She always takes complex themes and then delivers them in a page-turning combination of heart, wit and wisdom ... How to Mend a Broken Heart is yet another cracking read from Rachael Johns ... in fact, it’s her best yet.’ —Better Reading
‘Imbued with an adventurous spirit, and ultimately hope, this book transports you mentally to a vibrant and unique city a world away ... I highly recommend this book. I finished it feeling warm and cosy, if I’d just shared a wonderful adventure with two good friends.’ —She Society on How to Mend a Broken Heart
‘Rachael has delivered another realistic and relatable tale with everything from spooky old mansions with ghosts, to cultural culinary delights, to life lessons and the opportunities to start anew all in the iconic New Orleans.’ —Great Reads and Tea Leaves on How to Mend a Broken Heart
‘A brilliant read from one of Australia’s most popular authors, this will have you hooked from the very beginning.’ —Who on Flying the Nest
‘With her typical humour, empathy and wisdom, Rachael Johns has once again created characters you can’t help but fall in love with and wish the best for. Flying the Nest might just be her best novel yet!’ —Tess Woods, author of Love at First Flight
‘Writing with warmth and insight, Rachael Johns is brilliant at capturing the joy and sadness in all of our lives. I hope she has many more tales to tell!’ —Anthea Hodgson, author of The Drifter, on Flying the Nest
‘A really good book makes you feel like you’ve found a new friend—one that resonates with you, and one who you can learn from. That’s exactly how I felt in Rachael Johns’s new novel, Flying the Nest ... This is a book that women will want to bond over, share laughs and tears over—a must read for every woman who has had their life take an unexpected turn.’ —Mamamia
‘Rachael Johns really gets women and is able to express the multilayered internal conflicts that so many of us experience, lay it all out on the page, and still make it deeply personal ... She’s masterful at telling the stories of everyday heartbreaks ... Flying the Nest is wonderful—Rachael Johns never disappoints.’ —Better Reading
‘If you like your chick-lit with a dash of intelligent social commentary, Just One Wish is the perfect summer read. Rachael Johns’s latest novel is sparklingly funny, quirky and totally of this moment.’ —Herald Sun
‘Johns knows how to weave the experiences of different generations of women together, with nuance and sensitivity, understanding how competing contexts shape women’s choices ... Exploring themes like motherhood, the roles of women, and lost love, Just One Wish will make you look at the women in your own life and wonder what stories they haven’t told.’ —Mamamia
‘Johns draws readers in with her richly complex characters.’ —The Daily Telegraph on Just One Wish
‘Rachael Johns writes with warmth and heart, her easy, fluent style revealing an emotional intelligence and firm embrace of the things in life that matter, like female friendship.’ —The Age on Lost Without You
‘Heart-warming and compassionate ... Any book lover interested in life’s emotional complexities and in the events that define and alter us, will be engrossed.’ —Better Reading on Lost Without You
‘Full of heartache and joy with a twist that keeps the pages turning ... The Greatest Gift will appeal to fans of Jojo Moyes and Monica McInerney.’ —Australian Books + Publishing
‘Rachael Johns has done it again, writing a book that you want to devour in one sitting, and then turn back to the first page to savour it all over again. I loved the characters of Harper and Jasper; their stories made me laugh and cry, and ache and cheer and ultimately reflect on all the many facets of that extraordinary journey called motherhood.’ —Natasha Lester, author of The Paris Secret, on The Greatest Gift
‘The bond between Flick, Neve, and Emma blossomed as their sons grew up, but even best friends keep secrets from one another ... Fans of emotional, issue driven women’s fiction will welcome Johns’ US women’s fiction debut.’ —Booklist on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘... a compelling and poignant story of dark secrets and turbulent relationships ... I fell completely in love with the well-drawn characters of Flick, Emma and Neve. They were funny and flawed and filled with the kind of raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache for them.’ —Nicola Moriarty, bestselling author of The Fifth Letter, on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘Written with compassion and real insight, The Art of Keeping Secrets peeks inside the lives of three ordinary women and the surprising secrets they live with. Utterly absorbing and wonderfully written, Johns explores what secrets can do to a relationship, and pulls apart the notion that some secrets are best kept. It is that gripping novel that, once started, will not allow you to do anything else until the final secret has been revealed.’ —Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Secrets of Midwives, on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘A fascinating and deeply moving tale of friendship, family and of course—secrets. These characters will latch onto your heart and refuse to let it go.’ —USA Today bestselling author Kelly Rimmer on The Art of Keeping Secrets
About the Author
RACHAEL JOHNS is an English teacher by trade, a mum 24/7, a Diet Coke addict, a cat lover and chronic arachnophobe. She is also the bestselling, ABIA-winning author of The Patterson Girls and a number of other romance and women’s fiction books including The Art of Keeping Secrets, The Greatest Gift, Lost Without You, Just One Wish, Something to Talk About, Flying the Nest, How to Mend a Broken Heart and The Work Wives. Talk to the Heart is the third in her series of romances about the inhabitants of the town of Rose Hill. Rachael rarely sleeps, never irons and loves nothing more than sitting in bed with her laptop and imagining her own stories. She is currently Australia’s leading writer of contemporary relationship stories around women’s issues, a genre she has coined ‘life-lit’.
Rachael lives in the Swan Valley with her hyperactive husband, three mostly gorgeous heroes-in-training, two ravenous cats, a cantankerous bird and a very badly behaved dog.
Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website rachaeljohns.com. She is also on Facebook and Instagram.
Also by Rachael Johns:
The Patterson Girls
The Art of Keeping Secrets
The Greatest Gift
Lost Without You
Just One Wish
Flying the Nest
How to Mend a Broken Heart
The Work Wives
The Rose Hill novels
Talk of the Town
Something to Talk About
The Bunyip Bay novels
Outback Dreams
Outback Blaze
Outback Ghost
Outback Sisters
Outback Secrets
The Hope Junction novels
Jilted
The Road to Hope
Man Drought
The Kissing Season (e-novella)
The Next Season (e-novella)
Secret Confessions Down and Dusty: Casey (e-novella)
www.harpercollins.com.au/hq
For the Romance Writers of Australia – without you I would not be where I am today
Contents
Praise
About the Author
Also by Rachael Johns
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Epilogue
Author Note
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Adeline Walsh woke to the bright sun streaming through her bedroom window. No, hang on, it wasn’
And she was naked. In the most enormous bed she’d ever slept in.
The sheets were silky soft, the pillows fluffy, and the sound of running water was coming from an ensuite off to the side of the room. She’d always loved the sound of water—waves at the beach, ripples down a creek, dogs splashing in the dam—but nothing could hold a candle to the deep throaty voice accompanying it.
‘Country girls, shake it for the ones that lost you and the ones about to have you. Like aged whiskey ... fine wine ... darlin’ you can have me anytime.’
She knew those beautiful lyrics off by heart. They’d been on repeat in her four-wheel drive ever since Ryder O’Connell—that’s right, the hottest country music star in the country—had agreed to come sing at the annual Walsh Agricultural Show.
All her doing. And she was damn proud of it. There’d been so much community anxiety regarding the diminishing numbers attending the show the last few years, but scoring Ryder for the closing concert had done exactly what she’d intended—it had put Walsh back on the map. People had flocked not only from the surrounding towns, but from Perth and further afield as well. She’d been stoked with this result, but that wasn’t even the highlight of the weekend.
As the events of the night before came rushing back, she couldn’t curb her smile.
She’d slept with Ryder O’Connell.
It didn’t matter that it turned out he’d had an ulterior motive in agreeing to sing at the show—to get back together with upherself Tabitha Cooper-Jones—because everyone had ended up with the right people. Ryder might have thought himself in love with Tab, but she’d fallen for Fergus McWilliams, the new teacher, and didn’t want a bar of her ex. Honestly, who in their right mind would choose a small-town teacher over a freaking celebrity?
Thankfully, Adeline had been there to soothe Ryder’s hurt pride and make him forget that any other girl existed.
It might not have been the most amazing bonk of all time, but he’d seemed to enjoy it. The noise he’d made when he’d climaxed had been music to her ears. It made her feel powerful and sexy—and there was plenty of time for him to repay the favour.
His voice came to a crescendo as he sang the chorus about second chances and finding love on a country road. Her body thrummed along to the tune and she decided that now was as good a time as ever to claim that orgasm.
Throwing back the covers, she headed into the bathroom.
Ryder’s eyes were closed as he rubbed soap all over his beautiful body. She took a moment to simply appreciate the view before stepping into the massive shower.
‘Holy shit.’ He jumped and almost slipped on the tiles as she placed her hand on his chest. ‘What the hell?’
He was looking at her like she was a stranger who’d snuck into his space unwanted.
Trying not to feel hurt—maybe he just wasn’t a morning person—she hit him with her most seductive smile. ‘We’re all about saving water in the country, so I thought I’d join you. Would you like me to soap your back? Or maybe ...’ She flicked her long hair over her shoulders, exposing her breasts, shivering at the thought of his hands and mouth upon them. ‘Maybe you’d like to scrub me?’
‘Look sweetheart,’ Ryder said, turning off the taps, barely glancing at her chest, ‘last night was fun, but it was a one-time thing. I’ve got a car waiting outside to take me back to Perth to catch my plane.’
Adeline blinked as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. Was he for real? A one-off?
She wasn’t naive enough to think that he’d propose marriage or anything (at least not straight away), but sometime in the night they’d spent together, she’d decided that he was her ticket out of here. She’d been all but ready to pack her bags—and her dogs, of course—and drive across the Nullarbor to join him in Sydney. Maybe she’d work for his PR team, helping write better copy than the stuff he currently had. They could be partners in business and in bed. The thought of leaving Gran, Sally and her gorgeous nephews didn’t appeal, but with a bank account like Ryder’s at her disposal, she’d be able to fly back to visit whenever she wanted.
Her fantasy even included the possibility of having her grandmother moved to a private nursing home on the other side of the country. Not that there was anything wrong with the residential care wing of Walsh Hospital—the nurses did their best—but Penelope Walsh deserved better than they could give.
Yet now the dream burst like one of the soap bubbles on the glass wall of the shower.
Ryder sprayed an expensive smelling cologne liberally over his naked body, ran some gel through his damp hair and then picked up his toothbrush.
‘Don’t mind me.’ He didn’t even look at her in the mirror as he spoke. ‘Have a shower, take as long as you like, just be out of this shack by two. I promised the owners I’d be gone by then.’
Gone?
Adeline stepped out of the shower and plucked another fluffy white towel from the rack. ‘Ryder,’ she began, ‘I had a wonderful time last night and I was hoping we could see each other—’
He cut her off with his hand in her face. ‘Look sweetheart, it’s not pretty to beg. Let’s not make this more than it was.’
‘B-beg?’ Adeline spluttered. Saying she hoped to see him again was hardly grovelling.
He nodded as he brushed his teeth, then spat into the sink, not even bothering to rinse it. She guessed he was used to having people for that! He dropped the towel in a puddle at his feet, then strode into the bedroom. Adeline followed to find him pulling snug jeans onto his muscular thighs and realised that aside from the clothes he clearly planned to wear today, everything else was already packed and waiting by the front door.
A knock sounded on said door.
‘That’ll be my driver,’ he explained, tugging a designer brand black t-shirt over his head. She followed him out into the open-plan living area. ‘Don’t forget, out by two.’
And then he left. No thanking her for organising the gig, no goodbye, not even a kiss on the bloody cheek. As the door of the cottage shut behind him, she glanced down at her clothes. Discarded in the height of passion the night before, her bra, knickers, boots, blouse, denim skirt and jacket formed a trail leading from the front door to the bedroom.
She snatched up a boot—caked in cow dung from traipsing around the showgrounds—and hurled it at the door, wishing she’d had the forethought to throw it at his head.
‘Arsehole,’ she screamed, and then began to gather the rest of her things.
Why did she keep doing this? Going after guys who were unavailable—either because they were heartless pricks or because they favoured someone else. What was wrong with her? She knew she was pretty. She had a good body. She wasn’t stupid. She could sew, knit and cook, yet also knew her way around the milking shed and how to balance the farm books.
She was a bloody catch, yet none of the local men she’d ever had a crush on were smart enough to realise it.
The sound of a ringing phone pierced her suddenly throbbing head.
Her heart tripped. Could it be him? She’d given her number to his manager in case he needed to contact her directly before the big night. Maybe he was calling to apologise for his brusqueness and to tell her if she was ever in Sydney they should hook up.
He’d better hope he was good at grovelling!
But the caller wasn’t Ryder O’Connell.
All hopes sank as the name Jane Walsh flashed up from the screen.
The last thing she felt like doing right now was talking to her mother. It would probably already be all around town that she’d gone home with the megastar—news had a way of getting out in small communities—and she didn’t want to have to explain that she’d made yet another monumental stuff-up when it came to men.
The phone went silent, but she’d barely expelled her sigh of relief when it started blaring again. Her headache compounded. She needed water and Panadol pronto.
‘What is it, Mum?’ she spat as she answered. ‘Has someone died?’
‘Yes, Adeline,’ her mother replied. ‘Your grandmother.’
‘What?’ Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. ‘No ... Are you ... But …’
‘There’s no point falling apart over this. Penelope hasn’t been long for this world for years. It’s a miracle she lasted this long after her stroke.’
