A woman learns to be the heroine of her own life in this heartfelt novel inspired by Anne of Green Gables by New York Times bestselling author Virginia Kantra.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Anne of a Different Island by Virginia Kantra, which releases on January 20th 2026.
She believed life could follow a plotline—until the story she was living unraveled.
Anne Gallagher has always lived by the book. Anne of Green Gables, that is. Growing up on Mackinac Island, she saw herself as her namesake: the same impulsive charm, the same wild imagination, even the same red hair (dyed, but still). She followed in Anne Shirley’s fictional footsteps, chasing dreams of teaching and writing, and falling for her very own storybook hero.
But when a string of real-life plot twists—a failing romance, a fight with the administration, and the sudden death of her beloved father—pulls her back to the island she once couldn’t wait to leave, Anne is forced to face a truth no story ever prepared her for. Sometimes, life doesn’t follow a script.
Back in the house she grew up in, Anne must confront her past and the people she left behind, including Joe Miller, the boy who once called her “The Pest.” It’s time to figure out what she wants and rewrite her story to create her own happy ending. Not the book version. The real one.
“I love your hair color,” she said. “Like high school!”
I touched the ends self-consciously. “I found an old box under the sink.”
“I guessed.” She regarded me in the old way, like my best friend, intuiting all the things I couldn’t find words for. “I’m so sorry about your dad. How’s Maddie holding up?”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “You know Mom.”
And that was the thing. She did. She knew me. She squeezed my arm. “You let me know if you need anything. Or if she does.”
I glanced toward the coffee service. Somehow Joe had persuaded my mother to sit down in one of the basement’s molded plastic chairs, a paper plate of cookies on her knee, a glass of water at her elbow.
“You want a drink?” I asked abruptly.
“I can’t,” Daanis said with regret.
Right. No alcohol. “I meant . . .” I flapped my hand toward the big silver urns. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“I have to pee every five minutes as it is.” Daanis smiled in apology. “Plus, I promised Zack I’d be home in time to kiss Rose good night.”
“Okay. Well.” I stood there, feeling oddly displaced. “Thanks for coming.”
“I love you, too,” Daanis said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
At the funeral.
I swallowed all the things I hadn’t managed to say. “See you.”
I watched her go, bereft. We didn’t even hug goodbye. Squaring my shoulders, I went to take over the role of Comforter-in-Chief.
Joe glanced over at my approach, his gaze snagging briefly on my hair.
I raised my chin, daring him to say something snarky.
“You need to help Joe,” my mother said. “He told me I’m officially off duty.”
“And she listened to you?” I asked him.
Our eyes met. A corner of his mouth curved in acknowledgment. In recognition. It was eerily like the look I’d shared with Daanis, only different, because she was my best friend for life, and he was my main rival for my father’s attention and my mother’s affection.
“She listened to reason,” he said.
Jerk.
“Joe. Maddie.” Deputy Chief Petrovski, the salt-and-pepper-haired head of the island’s first responders, nodded to me before turning to my mother. “Sure am sorry about Rob.”
“You did what you could, Bruno,” Mom said.
“We came as soon as Joe called. If we coulda gotten him on the plane . . . But he was already gone.”
“Wait.” My stomach hollowed. “Joe was with Dad? When he died?”
Chief Petrovski shuffled his feet.
“We were on a job together,” Joe said, when no one else spoke. “Rotten fascia board.”
“I thought . . .” My gaze cut to my mother. “You said it was Dad’s heart.”
“It was.”
Chief Petrovski cleared his throat. “Near as we can tell, he had a cardiac event on the roof before he fell.”
“Dad fell? Off a roof ?” My voice squeaked.
A pool of silence spread around us. I could feel myself fraying and reached desperately for the threads to hold myself together.
“He had no business up that ladder and so Joe told him,” my mother said.
She might as well have kicked me off that roof. I stared at her, feeling the ground fall away beneath my feet.
“I’m sorry,” Joe said.
I believed him. There was an awful sincerity in his deep voice, a terrible pity in his warm brown eyes. His sympathy broke me. My throat constricted. My sinuses swelled. I was going to cry. In front of him. Because of him. This was his fault.
“It’s your fault,” I blurted. He went still.
“Annie,” Mom said sharply.
“If you’d been up on the roof instead of Dad, he wouldn’t have died.”
“That’s quite enough,” my mother said. “Apologize.”
I whirled on her. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” “It’s all right,” Joe intervened. His gaze met mine. “I understand.”
The horrible thing was I thought he did.
I turned hot. Cold. My palms were sweating. My lips were frozen. Everybody was watching—my mother’s friends, the Altar Guild, Chief Petrovski, Mrs. Johnson—with varying degrees of judgment or indulgence. Just Annie being Annie, their expressions said. What did you expect?
And tomorrow I had to face them all again.
