I am reading Pilcher's books somewhat in reverse order of publication. This story engaged me, but it was simpler than her later books. I love her writing. ( )

Laura y Alec, recien casados, tienen que separarse durante el verano. Ella se instala en la mansion donde el paso parte de su infancia. Alli espera vencer la inseguridad que le provoca el recuerdo de la ex esposa de Alec. La belleza del lugar, unida a la sincera hospitalidad de la familia, empiezan a surtir efecto en el animo de Laura, hasta que un malevolo anonimo amenaza su precario equilibrio. La autora de Historia de una herencia y Septiembre nos sumerge en un mundo de sentimientos y emociones que consigue despertar en el lector un interes casi personal.Autora de quince novelas, Rosamunde Pilcher ha conquistado, gracias a su estilo inimitable, millares de fieles lectores en todo el mundo.

Pilcher's books are usually easy, enjoyable reads. They take me to my happy place. This one was no exception. ( )

Rosamunde Pilcher writes in a way that is so comfortable you feel you have come home after time away and your mother is catching you up on all the shenanigans of your sisters while you were gone. She describes Cornwall, a world in which everyone gardens, lives comfortably, dips in the ocean, builds comfy fires in the evening, and knows the neighbors, and she does it in a way that makes you feel you belong to this place where you have never been.

The weather was changing, the barometer dropping. A wind had risen, flowing in from the southwest, warm and blustery. On the horizon, clouds banked in dark billows, but the sky remained blue, crossed by banks of white cumulus. The sea, observed from the gardens of Tremenheere, no longer lay blue and flat as silk, but was whipped into flecks of surf. Doors slammed and windows rattled, and sheets and pillowcases and Joshua’s nappies flapped and bellied on the washing line, making a noise like badly set sails.

I can see the wash on the line and feel the wind whipping the sea, and I want to go stand outside and catch the breeze on my face and smell the salt in the air.

I knew who the culprit was going to be (although I got the reason wrong), and I figured on the slight romantic twist, but it didn’t matter at all. It was a story told for the joy of the experience, for the knowing of the people, for the visit to Cornwall. It was like a tiny vacation...and what better time to take a vacation than summer?
( )

I love all of her books. This is my second time reading this book and I enjoyed it again. ( )