Love wins even when you’re sleeping with the enemy.
When Claire Fontenot has to return to her Louisiana hometown to temporarily run her aunt’s antique clock shop, she’s not expecting the warmest of welcomes. She left her high school sweetheart, Kurt Savoy, standing at the altar. Since then the two families have been fierce and petty competitors in the hot sauce business. Claire’s never looked back, and she’s on the verge of getting a major promotion in the Nephology Department at Global Climate Corp. Her objective – keep a low profile and sell some clocks.
Ivy Savoy, Kurt’s younger sister, grew up learning never to trust a Fontenot. When she sees a treasured lost clock from her childhood in the window of a Fontenot owned antique shop, she can’t help but go inside.
Claire and Ivy have every reason to hate each other except for the fact they can’t stop the feelings developing between them. Ivy’s convinced Claire is her soulmate who comes to her in dreams each night accompanied by Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Together they’ve devised a way for Ivy to buy back the clock. It just so happens she can repair antique clocks, and Claire has just fired her aunt’s no-good repairman. Ivy can earn back the clock by working for Claire. They just have to keep it a secret so their families don’t find out.
Claire and Ivy realize they were meant to be together, but if they can’t convince their families to let go of the past, does their future stand a chance?
I immediately liked Ivy. She’s naturally optimistic, genuine, and kind. However, she’s got some serious demons from her past. Losing her twin sister when she was just a child has left her feeling guilty and sometimes unworthy of a happily ever after. It’s an interesting mix of conflicting character traits and I wondered how the author was going to resolve it.
Claire is very pragmatic, and it took me a while to warm up to her. She has the more profound character arc in the story so that’s what drew me in. I always like watching workaholics reassess what’s truly important to them, and Ivy certainly gives Claire a reason to reevaluate her life. I also thought Claire’s concerns over their age difference were very authentic.
The Writing Style
The story is told from both Ivy and Claire’s points of view. This allows the reader to see what each of them is going through, and they go through a lot. They have to contend with their own insecurities as well as the family drama that surrounds them.
Moreau has a very natural writing style, and the story unfolds at a perfect pace. The dialogue is heartfelt, and all the characters have distinct personalities which isn’t easy to do with such a large cast.
I adored the large cast of characters that populate A Moment in Time. They provide so much color to the story. The fathers seem larger than life and the family matrons give the book a grounded, homey feel. It’s the supporting cast that gives this novel its southern feel.
While the atmosphere of this sleepy little town in Louisiana is reflected in the environment, the food, and the architecture, I was a little disappointed I didn’t hear much, if any regional dialect in the dialogue. This didn’t keep me from enjoying the story, I just noticed it was missing.
A Moment in Time is a sweet romance that’s a strong argument for the saying, “Love conquerors all.” It had me believing in soulmates – a love so special it’s just meant to be. Ivy’s buoyant outlook on love and fate is contagious even when a long-standing family feud gets in the way. I never doubted Claire would realize Ivy was “the one” especially with Ivy’s resolve. The book has bits of angst sprinkled throughout to keep the story from feeling too saccharine, and that’s something I need in my romances. I had fun on this trip to Louisiana. You might too.
Excerpt from A Moment in Time by Lisa Moreau
“Do you need help?” Ivy squinted, barely making out the outline of a figure whose face was buried in the engine.
At the sound of Ivy’s voice, the person bolted upright and conked his head on the hood. “Ouch!”
That didn’t sound like a man’s voice. Ivy grabbed the person’s arm and guided him away from the smoke, his features slowly coming into view. Nope. That wasn’t a man at all. Not even close. It was an extremely shapely, albeit agitated, woman who was rubbing her crown. Even though she had oil smudged across her cheek and was profusely perspiring, she had the most beautiful face Ivy had ever seen. She was absolute perfection, like nature had worked overtime to construct an impeccable nose, luscious lips, and sublime skin. And those eyes. Ivy could stare into those amber-colored eyes for hours. What made them even more alluring were the slightly droopy eyelids—not in an I’m about to faint sort of way but in a sexy come hither I want you way. Or maybe the woman really was about to keel over, considering that bang on the head.
“Are you okay?” Ivy placed her hand on the woman’s firm arm. There had to be some flab there somewhere. She gave it a quick squeeze. Nope. Nothing but muscle.
“I’m fine.” The woman continued rubbing the top of her head.
Ivy motioned toward the car. “We shouldn’t stand so close.”
The woman paused but then took several steps back, causing Ivy to reluctantly release her hold.
“I think it’s the radiator. AAA should be here any minute.” The woman peered down the highway.
“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” So much for picking up strangers.
“Thanks, but…you know, AAA. I should stay here.”
“Right. Of course.” Ivy shoved her hands into her pockets. Stupid suggestion.
The woman’s gaze landed on Ivy. Wow. Were her eyelashes real? They extended at a perfect curve and were so long they almost touched her eyebrows. Ivy leaned closer for a better look. They didn’t appear fake. Yep. Nature had been very kind.
“Do I have something…” The woman rubbed her forehead where Ivy had been staring, smearing even more oil on her skin.
“No. Well, yes…but no.” Ivy took a step back, flushed.
Suddenly, a loud blast of music filled the air, and Ivy’s jaw dropped. Was that? No. It couldn’t be.
The woman reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “Where are you?” She asked and paced back and forth. “Yes, I said highway sixty-nine right outside of St. Augustine. I’m in the smoking car on the side of the road. You can’t miss it.” She stopped, craned her neck, and peered over the haze. “Oh, wait. I see you now.” She disconnected and glared at the approaching tow truck.
A chill ran up and down Ivy’s spine despite the scorching temperature outside. “What was that song?”
“What song?” the woman asked, her attention still on the rescue vehicle.
Ivy pointed at the phone.
The woman waved both arms over her head and watched the truck park next to her car. Finally, she focused on Ivy. “You mean my ringtone? It’s Vivaldi.”
“The Four Seasons.” Every nerve in Ivy’s body tingled.
“You a Vivaldi fan?”
“You could say that. I listen to it almost every night.”
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