My Review:Sensible thirty-six-year-old Sophie Anderson has always known what to do. She knows her role in life: supportive wife of a successful architect and calm, capable mother of two. But on a warm summer night, as the house grows quiet around her and her children fall asleep, she wonders what’s missing from her life. When her husband echoes that lonely question, announcing that he’s leaving her for another woman, Sophie realizes she has no idea what’s next. Impulsively renting a guest cottage on Nantucket from her friend Susie Swenson, Sophie rounds up her kids, Jonah and Lacey, and leaves Boston for a quiet family vacation, minus one.
Also minus one is Trevor Black, a software entrepreneur who has recently lost his wife. Trevor is the last person to imagine himself, age thirty and on his own, raising a little boy like Leo—smart and sweet, but grappling constantly with his mother’s death, growing more and more closed off. Hoping a quiet summer on the Nantucket coast will help him reconnect with Leo, Trevor rents a guest house on the beautiful island from his friend Ivan Swenson.
Best-laid plans run awry when Sophie and Trevor realize they’ve mistakenly rented the same house. Still, determined to make this a summer their kids will always remember, the two agree to share the Swensons’ Nantucket house. But as the summer unfolds and the families grow close, Sophie and Trevor must ask themselves if the guest cottage is all they want to share.
Inspiring and true to life, The Guest Cottage is Nancy Thayer at her finest, inscribing in graceful, knowing prose matters of the heart and the meaning of family.
I definitely recommend this for anyone who wants a perfect beach read, a book set on Nantucket, and/or fans of Elin Hilderbrand. I'm definitely keeping The Guest Cottage on my beach reads shelf and I know I will re-read it!
The Guest Cottage comes out tomorrow, May 12, 2015, and you can purchase HERE!
So this was lust. It might even be love. She liked him, she admired him, and every time he came into her view her heart did a happy dance. She wanted to hang a full-length poster of him on her bedroom wall. She wanted to carry a photo of him as the screen saver on her iPhone. She wanted to shackle him to her body with chains and locks. She wanted to kiss every freckle, ever muscle, even the bottoms of his long, bony feet. She wanted to lie on top o him and fit her body to hi, arm to arm, leg to let, breasts to hairy chest.
Apparently she had finally, at the age of thirty-six, achieved her teenage self.