Praise for Kristy Woodson Harvey
“A major new voice in Southern fiction.”
—Elin Hilderbrand, New York Times bestselling author
“Harvey pulls the reader into the hearts and souls of her characters.”
—Heather Gudenkauf, New York Times bestselling author
“Southern fiction at its best. . . . Beautifully written.”
—Eileen Goudge, New York Times bestselling author
“Sweet as sweet tea on the outside and strong as steel on the inside. . . . Kristy Harvey is a natural.”
—Ann Garvin, author of On Maggie’s Watch and The Dog Year
Praise for Slightly South of Simple
“Kristy Woodson Harvey really knows how to tell a southern tale. Every single time her stories unwind gently, like a soft wind in Georgia, then that wind catches you off guard and throws you into her characters’ tumultuous lives. Slightly South of Simple is the same. One gracious, old home inherited from Grandma, one mother who has so many secrets if the walls talked they would pour out like lemonade on a hot summer day, and three headstrong sisters, all working their way through the chaotic mess and joy of life, together. I loved it.”
—Cathy Lamb, New York Times bestselling author
“Kristy Woodson Harvey cuts to the heart of what it means to be a born-and-bred Southerner, complete with the unique responsibilities, secrets and privileges that conveys. Discover four women who are at once different yet utterly the same, and a town that you won’t ever want to leave. Interior design, family secrets, life on the coast . . . it’s easy to see why everyone is buzzing about Slightly South of Simple.”
—Cassandra King, author of The Sunday Wife and The Same Sweet Girls
“Heartfelt and warm, Slightly South of Simple deftly explores the familial ties that bind us—and those that have the power to break us. Kristy Woodson Harvey’s cast of characters—and the charming beach town of Peachtree Bluff—will crawl into your soul and stay there.”
—Colleen Oakley, author of Close Enough to Touch
“Fans of Nancy Thayer and Patti Callahan Henry will devour this story of the first of three sisters, the men in their lives, and the mother who bonds them all.”
—Booklist
“Harvey’s devotion to realistic character development pays off by the end of the novel, which provides clear resolutions to some plots and leaves other hanging in a way that practically begs for a sequel . . . Slightly South of Simple is so warm, inviting and real . . .”
—Bookpage
“My prediction is that writers come and writers go, but Kristy Woodson Harvey is here to stay. The warmth, wit, and wisdom of this novel pave her way into the exclusive sisterhood of southern writers.”
—Huffington Post
“With a charming, coastal Southern setting, Slightly South of Simple is a heartfelt story about the universal themes of love, loss, forgiveness and family. I’m thrilled to hear that this book is part of a series and look forward to getting to know this cast of strong Southern women even better.”
—Deep South Magazine
“Harvey, considered to be the ‘it girl’ of Southern fiction, introduces the first novel in the Peachtree Bluff Series this spring. Child, this book is everything! We’re hoping to see this soapy read on the Hallmark Channel.”
—Jamey Giddens, Daytime Confidential
“Full of heart, emotion, and Southern charm . . .”
—PopSugar
“If you’re looking for a new series to get lost into, this story of three sisters and their mother will have you flying through the pages.”
—Glitter Guide
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To my mother-in-law, Dottie Williams Harvey, who loves a good story as much as I do
ONE
home
sloane
Time had lost its meaning. I only realized it was night because the water outside my bedroom window at my mother’s home in Peachtree Bluff, Georgia, wasn’t blue anymore. It was black and shining like fresh-paved asphalt. But inside, in my room, on my TV, it wasn’t night. It was Saturday morning, the third precious birthday of my son Adam, Jr., or AJ, as we called him. My strong, national hero of a husband, in his off-duty khaki shorts and collared shirt, was holding our other son, six-month-old Taylor, in one arm. I was behind the camera cooing, “Smile for Daddy one more time. Can you smile for Daddy?” Taylor smiled. Who wouldn’t smile for the handsome man holding him?
It was almost funny to see that six-foot-three soldier with his big, sculpted arms and huge hands made for protecting holding that tiny baby. But Adam wasn’t just a strong and loyal soldier. He was my husband. He was my boys’ father. He was my home.
His arms were the only place I had truly felt safe, special, and loved. His smile was the one that changed my life, had convinced me to marry, to have children, to put myself out there and love this big. His heart was the one that, after a decade of feeling so terrorized by my father’s death, had made me feel safe again. Adam had changed absolutely everything.
His dark hair, peppered with gray, was buzzed short. His kind brown eyes twinkled at me through the camera as he said, “Three, Sloane. Can you believe he’s three?”
We were in front of our town house on post in North Carolina. Adam liked the idea of us being in a town home, of having other families close by. He didn’t say it, but he liked the idea of other families being close by because he wouldn’t always be around. It was inevitable. He felt like we were safe here when he was away.
The video panned over our house, a sweet Carolina blue with a front porch on a street, like all the
