Friday, 18 May 2018

BLOG TOUR: One Summer in Italy by Sure Moorcroft

Sue Moorcroft
One Summer in Italy

‘I love all of Sue Moorcroft’s books!’

Katie Fforde

One Summer in ItalyWhen Sofia Bianchi’s father Aldo dies, it makes her stop and look at things afresh. Having been his carer for so many years, she knows it’s time for her to live her own life – and to fulfil some promises she made to Aldo in his final days.

So there’s nothing for it but to escape to Italy’s Umbrian mountains where, tucked away in a sleepy Italian village, lie plenty of family secrets waiting to be discovered. There, Sofia also finds Amy who is desperately trying to find her way in life after discovering her dad isn’t her biological father.

Sofia sets about helping Amy through this difficult time, but it’s the handsome Levi who proves to be the biggest distraction for Sofia, as her new life starts to take off…


Sofia could see what Davide was up to. Threading between the black iron tables of Il Giardino he was deliberately brushing against Amy, apparently irresistibly drawn to her blonde-haired, blue-eyed prettiness.
Like Sofia, Amy had only been working at the hotel Casa Felice for ten days. As Davide had been away on a course, this was the first time their duties had brought them all together yet Sofia had heard Davide ask Amy for a date within ten minutes of the start of the shift. Not visibly rebuffed by her gasp of dismay and embarrassed head-shake, he’d then proceeded to behave like a Jack Russell in heat.
Sofia’s protective instincts were roused by her friend’s obvious distress. Amy was eighteen and this was her first summer job, for crying out loud! Davide was at least a decade her senior and the son of the owner. Sofia timed her next run to the kitchen hatch to coincide with Amy’s.
‘Are you OK?’ she whispered.
Amy’s eyes sparkled with angry tears as she balanced two pâté boards and an order of truffles on her tray. ‘Davide’s being a creep.’
‘He certainly is. I’m just checking you’re aware he’s Benedetta’s son—’

‘Don’t care! I’m not putting up with him rubbing his yucky “bits” on my bum.’ Amy spun on her heel with a swish of her blonde ponytail and made for a table of three middle-aged Englishwomen who’d whiled away the wait for food with a couple of bottles of prosecco.

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