Emma was quite certain she’d never fall in love again. But then she met an obituary writer, Leo, and within months, they were engaged. Seven years later came Ruby, their daughter, and then John Keats, their rescue dog. Now Emma, a marine biologist, has her perfect little ecosystem. They are happy, crammed into the tiny house her grandmother left her.

Leo was adopted as a baby, and this noisy, joyous little family is the first place he has ever felt he belongs. In fact, everything would be just perfect if Emma was who she said she was. If Emma was even her real name . . .

Because of Emma’s preeminence in her field, Leo is asked to write his own wife’s obituary while she is still alive. That’s when he finds that the woman he thinks he knows doesn’t really exist. As Leo starts to unravel the truth about the stranger in his bed, Emma’s old life breaks out of the carefully cultivated shell she created, threatening to wash away everything she has worked so hard to build.

When the very darkest moments of Emma’s past finally emerge, she must somehow prove to Leo that she really is the woman he always thought she was.

But first, she must tell him about the love of her other life.

This book contains mentions of suicide.

Get an early look from the first pages of The Love of My Life.

When you pass, who would you want to tell the story of your life? Maybe a friend, or perhaps a sibling, maybe your spouse. But what if the life they knew was all an elaborate lie? What if they had no idea about the real you? You might be in a bit of a pickle then. They might get some ideas.

Leo is an obituary writer. He writes about the deceased, often unfortunate or ill-fated, but he has struck into some luck, having fallen into a whirlwind romance with his beautiful and brilliant wife, Emma. Or so he thinks. Until he is charged with writing her obituary—after all, she is a renowned biologist. Then the threads making up the woman he thinks he knows—and loved, loves?—begin to unravel. It becomes quickly apparent that perhaps Leo has married a stranger . . . and it is time to figure out what comes next.

Despite its explosive premise, The Love of My Life is a novel possessed of great tenderness and warmth. Pathos of the highest order. It captures ever so convincingly the lengths one might go to hide the traumas of the past and the wounds of the present. Looking directly at the ways we lie to ourselves and those we hold most dear, it nonetheless finds room for hope. Readers excited for a moving and beautifully crafted narrative should run to it! A new favorite read awaits.