Irish photojournalist Grace Brennan travels the world’s war zones documenting the helpless and forgotten. After the death of her friend and colleague, Grace is shaken. She returns to London hoping to rekindle the spark with the only man she ever loved―Scottish businessman Ian MacDonald. But he gave up his championship rowing career and dreams of Olympic gold years ago for Grace . . . only for her to choose photography over him. Will life’s tides bring them back together . . . or tear them apart for good this time? London Tides tugs and churns every emotion . . . right up until the lovely, hope-buoying end. Serena Chase, author of Intermission and the Eyes of E'veria series Carla Laureano is the author of the RITA(r) award-winning romance Five Days in Skye as well as the Celtic fantasy series The Song of Seare (as C. E. Laureano). A graduate of Pepperdine University, she worked as a sales and marketing executive for nearly a decade before leaving corporate life behind to write fiction full-time. She currently lives in Denver with her husband and two sons. London Tides By Carla Laureano, Sarah Mason Rische Tyndale House Publishers Copyright © 2019 Carla Laureano All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4964-2625-3 CHAPTER 1 She shouldn't be here. Grace Brennan snapped several pictures of the fog-shrouded river, forcing down the tide of anxiety that threatened to rise up and engulf her. Chances were he wouldn't be here either. People changed in ten years. She certainly had. What kind of man stuck to such a rigid schedule for over a decade? She ambled down the cement embankment to where the muddy waters of the Thames lapped the bank and raised her camera once more. Even in the dim morning light, her telephoto lens captured every detail of the boats rowing against the ebb tide, from the markings on the shells to the club crests on the rowers' kit. Grace had photographed enough regattas in her career to recognize the different clubs and schools by their colors, to distinguish the casuals from the competitive rowers. To know from a distance she hadn't seen him yet. It was a mad impulse that brought her here anyhow. Her regrets should have stayed in the past, where they belonged, with the rest of her mistakes. Back then, her fears had clouded her judgment, skewed her perspective. And no matter how far she'd come, there might always be parts of her that were broken. What would coming back here do but remind her of what she'd given up? She was about ready to move on to some street-level shots when a sleek red eight glided with precision toward the bank on which she stood. Again the camera came up to focus on the crew, and her heart rose into her throat when her gaze landed on the man in the stroke seat nearest the stern. His dark hair was short now, thick waves cropped into submission, but she would have recognized him anywhere. He radiated capability and confidence with an oar in hand, and even his rowing waterproofs couldn't hide a physique that was as lean and muscular as a decade before. Clearly she'd had good reason to believe things hadn't changed. Grace's hand tightened convulsively around the column of the thick lens as she let the neck strap take the camera's weight. Her muscles tensed, her heart pounding. Should she call to him? Would he even speak to her? Then he turned her way and stopped, the oar frozen in midair. He saw her, no mistake. She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. Just as quickly, he turned away, his movements brusque and businesslike as he removed his oar from the lock. Her hopes rushed away as quickly as the tide. Ten years wondering how she'd feel if she saw him again. Ten years convincing herself that time and distance would change things. Pure rubbish, all of it. She still loved him. And he still hadn't forgiven her. * * * Grace wound her way into the Regency Café, ignoring the irritated looks from waiting patrons. Even at eight in the morning, the greasy spoon was packed with diners, the queue stretching out the door, voices raised in a hum just short of deafening. She scanned the crowded room until her gaze landed on a beautiful Indian woman staking out a corner table. Asha held up her arm and pointed to her wristwatch with raised eyebrows. "I know, I know, I'm late." Grace grimaced as she approached the table, but Asha pulled her into a bone-crushing hug before she could get out the rest of her apology. "Only by about two years! When did you arrive in London? Before you called this morning, I didn't even know you were coming." "Landed last night." The tightness in Grace's chest eased as she slid into a chair and placed her gear bag between her feet. "It was a last-minute decision. Did you order for us?" "Of course. I didn't queue for an hour for tea. I got your usual. It is your usual, right? You didn't go vegan on me or anything ..." Grace laughed. "Absolutely not. I live on bacon. Besides, Paris hasn't been as much fun since they stopped sautéing every