I’ve literally read dozens of Danielle Steele books. Swore off of them years ago. I find her repititious. So, when I received this book as a Christmas book I was reluctant, but my friend urged me to give it a try. I’m glad that I did. The religion is still very much in place, but the story line was quite different. A married man, a lonely artist woman. It had all the makings of being just another sad story with a decent ending. But wait, things got very different. I could not help but like the Charlie, the main guy, even though he was far from perfect. I felt for him and grieved for his sadness. The book had me guessing how it would end, which is rare.