For fans of Robyn Carr, commercial women’s fiction about three generations of women who come together at the family orchard to face secrets from the past and learn to believe in the power of hope and forgiveness.

In cherry season, anything is possible…

Everything Hope knows about the Orchard House is from her late-mother’s stories. So when she arrives at the Northern Michigan family estate late one night with a terrible secret and her ten-year-old daughter in tow, she’s not sure if she’ll be welcomed or turned away with a shotgun by the aunt she has never met.

Hope’s aunt, Peg, has lived in the Orchard House all her life, though the property has seen better days. She agrees to take Hope in if, in exchange, Hope helps with the cherry harvest—not exactly Hope’s specialty, but she’s out of options. As Hope works the orchard alongside her aunt, daughter, and a kind man she finds increasingly difficult to ignore, a new life begins to blossom. But the mistakes of the past are never far behind, and soon the women will find themselves fighting harder than ever for their family roots and for each other.

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

Hank had been able to throw around compliments and kindness like he had them coming out his ears. But Peg was always so stingy with hers, like she only had a tiny, meager supply to get her through life and she meant to take some with her to her grave.

Tink was glaring at her like she would start a fire in her hair, if she could.

She did not like this one bit. She liked all her emotions separate. Her anger with her anger. Her guilt with her guilt. Nothing touching.

It was like when your ears pop, and everything goes from distant and removed to loud and present. Life, right there in the kitchen.

My Review:

This was superbly written and exceptionally well-crafted. How have I never read this talented wordsmith before? I was consumed by this maddeningly paced and striking tale and well and truly sucked into a compelling vortex of tautly held family secrets that were tucked away on a fruit farm in rural Michigan. The original storylines were shrewdly constructed and sneakily emotive with stealthy and unexpected hits of the feels. This underhanded author was wily and cunning in ruthlessly plucking, squeezing, and pulling on my overworked coronary muscle. This sly she-devil was also guilty of stinging my eyes and putting hot rocks in my throat more than once. The nerve! I was stunned and loved it; her word voodoo is strong! I most do further research on this phenomenon by amassing and perusing all her clever words.