Miras - Nora Roberts May 2026

“I need you to look at something,” she said, and opened the locket.

“You’re a superstitious old crone in a young woman’s body,” her best friend, Liza, teased, dangling a pair of silver-backed hairbrushes in front of her. “Come on. These are gorgeous.” Miras - Nora Roberts

“Need a hand?” she called, grabbing her umbrella. “I need you to look at something,” she

Then he stopped in front of the back room. The door was closed, bolted. “What’s in there?” These are gorgeous

That night, she took the locket to Caleb’s farmhouse. The rain was coming down again, drumming on the tin roof of his workshop. He was carving a newel post, sawdust in his hair, looking so solid and real that she almost turned back. But she couldn’t carry this alone anymore.

Mira had always hated mirrors.