Back of the book :
Her death has created a vacancy …
When Emily lets a stranger step out in front of her, she never imagines that split second will change her life. But after Emily watches a car plough into the young mother – Killing her instantly – she finds herself unable to move on.
And she makes a decision she can never take back …
Because Rose had everything Emily ever dreamed of. A beautiful, loving family, a great job and a stunning home. And now Rose’s husband misses his wife, and their son needs a mother.
Why couldn’t Emily fill that space …. ?
What I think :
When Emily witnesses an accident she feels really guilty because she thinks she should have been the victim, not poor Rose who died. Emily thinks this because she lets Rose out of the lift in front of her. If she had been first then it would have been her, Emily, that had been mowed down and died. After a couple of days hiding away Emily becomes quite obsessed with Rose and her family. She really feels the need to get to know Rose’s husband and child. In effect she wants Rose’s life ….
I really enjoyed this book and like so many other people I couldn’t put it down. Whilst I warmed to Emily as a character I did find her slightly … erm … crazy /obsessed. I won’t say too much about that as I don’t want to ruin the book for people.
The subject of spousal abuse is covered in this book (which I think needs to be talked about, there are far too many women and men these days keeping quiet about this kind of stuff – it needs to be addressed and those people helped ) Claire has done some very good research on that subject as it was very well-written and believable.
There are a few twists and turns and a bit of a twist lurking at the end !
All in all a very fab book. I give it 8/10
Published on 28/06/18 by Avon Books.
A huge Thank you to Sabah Khan at Avon Books for the review copy of the book.
Here for your reading pleasure is an extract from the book …..
There’s a freckle about two inches under my left breast that Cian loves. I’m not sure I even paid attention to it before he told me how cute he thought it was. Before he circled his finger around it as we lay in bed together before leaning across to kiss it, so tenderly that I could only hold my breath.
‘Even your imperfections make you more perfect,’ he had whispered, and my heart had soared. I was falling in love with him. Properly in love. Not just lust, or desire or those feelings that aren’t real that just rush in at the start of something to make people obsessed with each other. This was something more. Love that I’d read about, where you feel invincible; as if you have met the other half of yourself that you didn’t quite know was missing.
I knew that I ached when we weren’t together – although he sent me flowers to work, called me at lunchtime, sent romantic text messages telling me he couldn’t wait to be with me again. When I went home he would come and make me dinner – and he finally let me start reading what he had been working on.
It was so different to what I normally read – but it was good. He was good. He had talent to burn. I wanted to tell everyone about him – about his writing – but God, he was so shy about it. So secretive. It had to be just right he said. I felt so privileged that he let me read it.