From the spectacular beauty of Victoria’s lush western districts comes this deeply emotional story of grief, courage and love.
When shy farmer Tristan Blake is given free rein to manage iconic local property Rainbow, he soon finds himself living his dream. Even more so once the farm’s dark-haired artist owner April Tremayne arrives. April is mysterious and slightly wild, with an air of tragedy, and Tristan is captivated. The more involved he becomes with April and her eccentric projects, the harder he falls for her. April might believe the price of love is pain, but Tristan vows that is one thing she’ll never experience with him.
But even the sweetest dream can turn dark. April is haunted by the very heartbreak she’d come to Rainbow to heal, and as her demons tighten their grip, Tristan is torn between keeping his promise or betraying the woman he loves. And the risk of either choice is losing her forever..
“April’s Rainbow is a really beautiful story exploring terrible grief but from a very interesting perspective which sets it apart. It’s heartbreak and love, despair and fragile hope that packs an emotional punch that will stay with you.”– 1Girl2ManyBooks
“…April’s Rainbow is a tender and emotional love story, and definitely one where you may just need tissues on standby.”– My Written Romance
Excerpt – April’s Rainbow
It was nearing the end of June when April arrived at Rainbow. I’d been on the property six weeks by then, settled into the two-bedroom, simple limestone cottage that came with the job, which sat a couple of paddocks and a long slope down from the main house.
Mostly I’d been getting to know the place. Driving around its hills with my kelpie Holly, inspecting the facilities, checking paddock and rainfall records, and buying sheep. Rainbow was just short of a thousand acres, with the main house a late 1800’s single storey bluestone construction with a verandah running all the way round. One of those small but historic houses not uncommon to the area, but renovated to provide modern comforts. Improvements included a three-stand shearing shed, two sets of sheep yards, a couple of silos, and some decaying cattle yards.
As it turned out, Junior’s generous terms had proved an understatement. The contract had a few weird clauses that had given me pause for all of two seconds, but pause all the same. In layman’s terms, I could run whatever I wanted on my allocation, however I liked, as long as I gave due care for the land and improvements. Sheep, cattle, goats, if I chose. Or nothing. It was up to me because April didn’t know the first thing about farming, and she had other things in mind for Rainbow.
For her special part of it, anyway.
The main house was situated off the road on top of one of the property’s many hills. Behind it, a small five or so acre paddock sloped down to the highway. Across from there, another hill rose up, topped with a cairn to mark Major Mitchell’s trail. A tourist drive looped from the road toward it, ending in a small parking space that offered a sweeping view of the land to the north.
As a local I’d never thought much of it, but a day didn’t pass without someone driving up to the cairn for a look and to be battered by the wind that howled across the unprotected cleared hills for miles.
April never called to say she was coming. The first I knew was when I saw a metallic red Range Rover parked in front of the house one morning, every one of its doors open. I didn’t know what to expect. Junior hadn’t revealed much and I hadn’t wanted to ask. The only artist I’d known personally was my mum’s cousin Mary, who lived outside of Warrnambool and painted seascapes in thick oils in such a way that it was like the paint formed waves of its own. Two of Mary’s paintings hung in the lounge at Oakvale, given as presents in the days before Mary began to command more than the price of a good secondhand ute for her works.
I guess I’d expected someone like her. Older, a bit crusty and paint splattered. Absent-minded, always looking at people and scenes in a way that made you think they weren’t looking at you or the view at all, but something in their mind’s eye, as if reality was too boring.
What I got with April was a little of that but much more. So very much more.