tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19090577133217015872024-02-19T05:53:30.291-06:00A Year with Mary Manners and FriendsMary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-2478916476952939652017-10-23T00:00:00.000-05:002017-10-23T00:00:14.119-05:00Week 43: Undercover Justice by Wendy Davy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Undercover-Justice-Wendy-Davy-ebook/dp/B074MFBHJS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507515237&sr=8-1&keywords=undercover+justice+wendy+davy" target="_blank">Undercover Justice</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Convicted criminal Skylar Hart is determined to salvage her reputation. When evidence of a crime points in her direction, she fears she will be the prime suspect. As Skylar sets out to prove her innocence, she becomes an unwilling participant in a deadly game of chance, and finds herself tossed into the arms of the one man who has the power to bury her or to save her. Security specialist Slade Marshal is determined to gather evidence against the thief who wreaked havoc on his family. When a case of mistaken identity jeopardizes Slade's covert operation, he fears his chance of putting the monster behind bars may be short-lived. As he sets out to complete his mission, he finds himself at the mercy of the one woman who has the power to impede his plans, or bring him to victory.</span></div>
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<em>Excerpt:</em></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Breathless, Skylar Hart stared at the computer screen.<br /><br /> Was this a cruel joke?<br /><br /> She refreshed the online banking web page. Same results. This wasn’t a hoax. The transaction was real. The money set aside for the women’s shelter was gone—all of it. To make matters worse, the account fraud had originated from her office computer’s IP address.<br /><br /> The authorities would investigate, and when they did…<br /><br />She would be the prime suspect.<br /><br /> How could God allow this to happen? She had given her life to Christ. She was His now. Weren’t things supposed to be easy for Christians?<br /><br /> Lord, why now? I was so close to earning a solid reputation.<br /><br /> Skylar’s heart thudded fast and loud as she scanned the office building’s fifth floor. At half past nine on a Friday night the other employees at her uncle’s real estate firm were long gone. She’d stayed late to tie up loose ends before the weekend. The last item on her list, processing Uncle Winston’s monthly charity donation, should’ve taken only a few minutes, and it would have if not for finding the savings account compromised.<br /><br /> What would the shelter do without the funds? What would her uncle think? He’d trusted her when others had shunned. But, would he believe her to be trustworthy after this? If not, the authorities would follow the path of least resistance. Why would they bother to search for the true thief when they had a perfectly good suspect thrown into their path?<br /><br /> Her head began to throb. The backs of her eyes burned. Skylar straightened her spine and blinked away tears. She had to contact Uncle Winston, convince him she had nothing to do with the missing money. Then, he could direct the authorities toward finding the real culprit.<br /><br /> Skylar shut off her computer and pulled on her jacket. Thanks to casual Fridays, she sprinted across the floor in sneakers, the commercial gray-and-burgundy carpet silencing her footsteps. The phone rang at her desk. The unexpected sound jarred her frazzled nerves.<br /><br /> Should she answer?<br /><br /> No. She had to go. She approached the elevator, finger shaking as she punched the down button. The light glowed within, but she pressed the control a second time.<br /><br /> How had things gone so wrong? Moving to Forest Lake was supposed to be a respite from her past; and it had been. Until now.<br /><br /> The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. She rode to the lobby and exited into the foyer. Florescent lights reflected off the polished tile floor, and a colorful flower arrangement adorned a pedestal in the room’s center. The security desk flanking the entrance stood empty, the security televisions turned off. Was she alone in the entire building?<br /><br /> She hastened her steps, glancing toward the darkness which loomed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shivers wracked her body and hairs stood on end as if someone was lurking beyond the main doors, watching. Had the thief come to silence her? No one could possibly know she’d discovered the missing money. Could they?<br /><br /> Shaking off her unease, Skylar hurried across the wide open space and shoved through the double doors. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, Virginia’s crisp autumn air surrounded her, and she zipped her jacket. The doors closed behind her, the automatic locks engaging.<br /><br /> She scanned the dark, wet streets. When had it rained? Puddles formed on the black asphalt and overhead streetlamps reflected off the placid surfaces. Headlights speared the night as a full-sized cargo van cruised along the street. Tempted to rush across to the parking garage before the vehicle approached, Skylar stepped off the curb, but then thought better. She retreated and paced the sidewalk.<br /><br /> The driver applied the brakes, and the van slowed.<br /><br /> Her patience thinned. Couldn’t they see she was in a hurry? Skylar waved them on but instead of continuing past, the van pulled to the curb and stopped. The throaty exhaust rumbled as the engine idled. Tinted windows concealed its occupants and instincts urged her to take precautionary measures.<br /><br /> She took a few steps back, clutching her purse.<br /><br /> The side door swung open. A tall, dark clad figure sprang out, his combat boots splashing into a deep puddle as he lunged forward.<br /><br /> Oh, God. Help me.<br /><br /> Skylar turned and dove toward the building.<br /><br /> The man gained ground, fast, his heavy footsteps approaching without mercy. He was close. Too close. She drew in a breath to cry for help. His gangly arm encircled her neck, pressing tight and cutting off her emerging scream. His scent—a pungent combination of sweat and grease—assaulted her.<br /><br /> Skylar threw an elbow into his gut and reared back her head. He grunted as her skull connected with his face. He was stronger than he looked; he held tight, dragging her toward the van as he spewed foul words.<br /><br /> Adrenaline surged. She fought. Twisting. Striking. Kicking. She tried to dig into her purse for pepper spray, but the bag slipped and smashed onto the sidewalk. She wrenched toward it, but the man held tight. Inch by inch, he hauled her closer to the vehicle.<br /><br /> Wet concrete hampered her efforts to dig in her heels. Panic, raw and intense consumed her as her abductor climbed inside, pulled her in behind him, and then shoved her deep into the interior.<br /><br /> Darkness swallowed her as she fell backward onto the van’s cold, corrugated steel floor. Pain erupted, shooting up her backside and into her spine. Skylar gasped for breath as she took quick inventory: One driver. One assailant. One open door.<br /><br /> Freedom lay only a few feet away. She fisted her hands, preparing to fight her way out.<br /><br /> As if anticipating her thoughts, the man’s eyes narrowed into slits and then his gaze travelled over her shoulder. “Hold onto her. I’ll get her purse.” He disappeared outside.<br /><br /> The air shifted behind her. Masculine, rugged aftershave filled the chasm surrounding her—she wasn’t alone in the back after all. Outnumbered by at least three to one, she’d miscalculated her odds. In a final, fleeting attempt she lunged for the door but rock-solid arms wrapped around her shoulders preventing escape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong>~~~~~</strong></span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></strong> </div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Thanks so much for joining me this week!</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I hope you've enjoyed this peek into <em>Undercover Justice</em> by Wendy Davy. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy.</span></strong></div>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-608738362077599702017-10-16T00:00:00.001-05:002017-10-16T00:00:30.547-05:00Week 42: A Second Chance by Alexis A. Goring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Second-Chance-Alexis-Goring/dp/1944203931/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1500298011&sr=8-2" target="_blank">A Second Chance</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Newly single food critic and newspaper reporter Traci Hightower is done with dating. After the man of her dreams left her at the altar on their wedding day and ran off with the woman she thought was her best friend, Traci resolves to focus on work and resigns herself to being a bachelorette for life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia, serif;"><br />Marc Roberts is a political reporter who is known as Mr. Nice Guy, the one who always finishes last. However, Marc’s compassion and kindness are of invaluable help to his newly widowed sister Gina Braxton who is trying to raise her two kids in the wake of her firefighter husband’s death.<br /><br />Traci and Marc may be the perfect match, but they don’t know it yet. With God’s guidance and the help of Gina’s matchmaking skills honed by her career as a bestselling romance novelist, there is hope for a happily ever after for these two broken hearts.</span></div>
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<em>Chapter 1:</em></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 18pt;">K</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">nee-deep in debt from
wedding expenses, Traci Hightower sighed as she filed through the credit card
statements. She should be married now, back from her honeymoon in Bali, and
settled into her new home with her husband. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Happy.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not
single and broke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
slapped an envelope against the desk. Five months of struggling to survive and
pay off the debt. Her meager, entry-level journalist salary didn’t stretch far
enough. She’d been paying her dues for seven years. She rubbed her temples. The
numbers on the credit card statement blurred in front of her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
doorbell rang. A little thrill rushed through her. She stood from her
cross-legged position on the floor and hopped over the mess of papers and
laundry that decorated her living room. “Who is it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“The
woman who gave you birth.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
the first time today, Traci smiled. She opened the door and reached for a hug
from the one person who never left her hanging. “Hi, Mom.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Her
mom returned her daughter’s embrace, then dragged her suitcase inside. She
glanced around. “Oh, my.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
locked her door, then turned and shrugged. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been
looking forward to this. Can’t you stay for more than two days though?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
stopped picking up the bills from the floor and faced her daughter. “No, honey.
I’m sorry, but I need to return to home by Wednesday morning. Dad and I have an
important meeting later that day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci’s
heart dipped. Mom paused and placed the bills and the stack of paper she’d
picked off the floor on Traci’s kitchen counter. “Oh, sweetie.” She cocooned
her daughter in another embrace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
snuggled close. She inhaled the familiar scent of her mother’s favorite
perfume. It smelt like coconut and lime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You
always were a cuddler.” Mom stroked her hair. “Still up to your eyeballs in
debt?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Why
don’t you let me and your father help?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
took a step back and made eye contact with her mom. “We’ve been through this. I
got myself into this mess. I’ll get myself out.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
smiled. “Your father and I were talking. We hate to see you struggling.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You
don’t exactly live in a palace either. I know you want to retire soon, and I
won’t have you dipping into that money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
reached into her purse. “Living in the nation’s capital area is expensive.” She
rummaged through her handbag’s contents. “Have you considered moving home?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
can’t do that. I don’t ever want to live anywhere else. My life and career are
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“How’s
that going for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
picked at her fingernails. “It could be better.”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Better boss, better pay, better office space. The works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
nodded as she retrieved one sealed envelope from her purse. She looked toward
Traci’s kitchen. “Can we make some tea? I’d like to talk with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Sure.
Come with me.” Traci reached for the box of peppermint tea bags and got a
bottle of honey from her refrigerator. As she put the kettle on to boil, her
mom settled into a wobbly kitchen chair. She smoothed the creased edges of the
envelope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
poured the hot water over the tea bags in each mug and the scent of peppermint
filled the air. “Everything okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Just
thinking, honey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“About
what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Have
a seat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Sure,
just let me allow the tea to steep.” After she placed a plate over each mug and
set it aside, settled into the chair across from her mom. “What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
never did like Greg.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
traced a ring stain on the table. “Do we have to talk about my ex-fiancé?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Yes,
because your grandfather always trusted my judgment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“So,
Grandpa didn’t like Greg either?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
inherited my instincts of discernment from him. Speaking of discernment, here.”
She pushed the envelope within Traci’s reach. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
frowned as she picked it up and tried to flatten its wrinkles. “What’s this?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Open
it. Read it, and I’ll bring our tea to the table.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
turned over the letter-sized, manila-hued paper that was addressed to her. She
drew out the paper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">Dear Traci,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">If you’re reading this, it means I’ve
passed away, and your mother kept her promise to give this to you at the right
time. As you know, I like to cut to the chase first and explain later. So here
it is, plain and simple: I left an inheritance for you. It’s enough for you to
make a solid and secure living, for it will cover more than what you need for
the rest of your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
dropped the letter, her hands shaking. This could be the answer to her
financial struggles and give her what she always dreamed of. Her own bookstore.
The thought stole her breath for a moment. She envisioned the words on the sign
out front. Hallee’s House. Just like she promised her cousin Hallee before she
passed away from cancer. Tears welled in Traci’s eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Forcing
herself to take a deep breath and will the emotional waterworks away, she
picked the paper off the floor and continued reading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">But you cannot receive the money until
after you are married, and before<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>you
are, your mother must approve of the man you want to wed. Why? Because your
mother inherited my sense of judgment and discernment between right and wrong
when it comes to people. She can spot someone who’s going to break your heart
from a mile away. I trust that you will listen to your mother now that I’m gone
and can no longer advise you. So there you have it, dear. You have an
inheritance. Sounds like a movie, right? Only it’s not. It’s better, because
it’s now part of the story of your life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">After you’re married, you and your
husband need to visit my lawyer, Chadwick Morrison. Provide him with the
original copy of your marriage certificate, and he will give you your inheritance.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">Your grandmother and I loved you. We
wanted nothing more than for you to find the type of love that we had during
our lifetime. Now, I trust that you will allow yourself to be guided by God,
your mother’s love, and your father’s protection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">With love, your grandfather,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">Henry Allen Fort<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri Light",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Calibri Light";">P.S. Take this seriously. Don’t marry the
wrong man just to get the money. Let love happen. There’s no deadline. My will
said you had to be married first. It didn’t say when.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Let
love happen.” Traci snorted as she folded the letter and placed it into the
envelope. “The last time I let love happen, I was left at the altar with
nothing more than a pile of bills.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
placed her mug on the table. “It’s time for you to move on and trust God.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
trusted God to bring me a husband. He brought me Greg. Remember? The man who
left me on my wedding day and ran off with my best friend?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Honey,
I know it hurts, but that was months ago. You shouldn’t allow Greg’s actions
and wayward heart to tarnish your future. Be glad he showed you his true colors
before tying the knot. Honestly, look at this as a blessing. God protected you
from a lifetime of heartache.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
focused on her I Love Maryland mug. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
touched her hand. “Your grandfather just wanted to see you happy in a committed
romantic relationship like he and your grandma had. Like your father and I
have.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
sipped her tea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Keep
the letter.” Mrs. Hightower pushed her chair back. “Do you want me to stay here
or at a hotel?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Here,
Mom, of course. You can stay in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Alright
then. I’m going to put my luggage in your room. After that, we’ll clean your
apartment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Traci
picked up the mugs while her mind ran a marathon. Forgive her ex-fiancé and
move on? Trust God? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Impossible.
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<strong>~~~~~</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> </div>
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<strong>Thanks so much for joining me this week!</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> </div>
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<strong> I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into A Second Chance by Alexis A. Goring. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy.</strong></div>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-76608807894217130302017-10-16T00:00:00.000-05:002017-10-16T00:00:10.208-05:00Week 41: Building Benjamin: Naomi's Journey by Barbara M. Britton<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxnfFJthA2T74_Z_hvSeW8k5jtG3cM4XMoUrP5DxhC22XIFZ-eulzsWGsxyngIt35eYG_tNgsaVp2Sko4KJu1JcnYeueXw5BDbZdn46rWZq7FQMWO8glpuQZ8nsvgha43Q7y3E7-LCwPd/s1600/Building+Benjamin+Cover+Art+2+medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxnfFJthA2T74_Z_hvSeW8k5jtG3cM4XMoUrP5DxhC22XIFZ-eulzsWGsxyngIt35eYG_tNgsaVp2Sko4KJu1JcnYeueXw5BDbZdn46rWZq7FQMWO8glpuQZ8nsvgha43Q7y3E7-LCwPd/s1600/Building+Benjamin+Cover+Art+2+medium.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Building-Benjamin-Naomis-Journey-Tribes-ebook/dp/B01J4KUMJK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507513453&sr=8-1&keywords=building+benjamin" target="_blank">Building Benjamin: Naomi's Journey</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Love Grows Where God Grafts the Tender Shoot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Naomi desires to dance well enough to catch the eye of a wealthy landowner. Her father needs a substantial bride price due to the deaths of her brothers at the hands of the tribe of Benjamin. But when Benjamites raid the Ephraimite feast and capture young girls, Naomi is bound and carried from her home by Eliab, a troubled shepherd who needs a wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">As Naomi awaits rescue, she finds Eliab has a strong faith in God and a just reason for abducting her. A reason that affects all the tribes of Israel. The future of the tribe of Benjamin hangs in the balance, but if Naomi follows her heart and stays with Eliab to rebuild his lineage, she must forfeit her family and become a traitor to her tribe.</span></div>
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<em>Chapter 1:</em></h3>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "Droid Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">n those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit. Judges 21:25.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Shiloh, in the land of the tribe of Ephraim<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi peeked from behind the tent flap. Girls emerged from scattered booths, illuminated by the flames of the bonfire. The beat of a timbrel echoed over the vineyards while tambourines tinked in thanksgiving to God for an abundant crop. Naomi’s stomach hollowed at the thought of joining in the revelry at the harvest celebration. She had never danced before at the feast in a manner to seduce a husband.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her palms dampened. It was almost time. Time to twirl and catch the eye of a landowner. With two of her brothers slain by the Benjamites, her father needed a bride price.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Movement in the moon-shadowed vineyard caught Naomi’s attention. Had a goat gotten loose among the vines? She squinted into the darkened rows of naked stalks. No leaves shook. No trellis gave way. No bleating rang out. The smoke is deceiving me. She blinked and retreated from the open flap.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Cuzbi, the merchant’s daughter, came close as if to share a secret. Naomi’s reflection widened in the gold of Cuzbi’s headband. “Do not worry,” Cuzbi whispered. “Follow me and the men will line up to give our fathers gifts.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi prayed this was not a lie. Cuzbi had danced the previous harvest, and the one before, but Cuzbi’s father had not received a single shekel.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi smoothed a crease in Cuzbi’s striped robe. “I will dance in thankfulness to God for a bountiful harvest and let my brother and father deal with any suitor. You will be the bride tonight. I hope your father is prepared for an onslaught.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Cuzbi squared her shoulders, growing even taller. She patted her hip. Jeweled rings glimmered on every finger. “Come, Naomi. Stand as if a jar rests on each shoulder. The drape will show your curves.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi’s nerves fluttered like a wounded dove. She brushed a hand over her ringlets. A lone braid kept her curls from obscuring her face. Losing her brothers’ wages meant more time at the loom and less time adorning her hair. Her dyed sash would have to entice the spectators, for unlike Cuzbi’s adorned robe, Naomi’s was pale as a wheat kernel.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Before she could check her appearance in her polished bronze mirror, Cuzbi grabbed Naomi’s arm and jerked her out of the tent.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“The men will arrive soon from their feasting.” Cuzbi’s gaze darted about the clearing as she surveyed the ring of virgins who pranced around the fire. Young women in colorful linen swayed to the music. “Ah, there is an opening near the front of the procession.” Cuzbi sprinted into the circle.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi raced after her friend and ducked nearer the fire, next to Cuzbi. Dancers bumped Naomi’s side, jostling to be seen by their mothers and ultimately the eligible men making their way from the banquet. Hurry, Father. How much roasted lamb and wine did the men of Ephraim need?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Waving to her mother, Naomi signaled her arrival into the mass of whirling bodies. A bead of sweat trickled from her temple and slithered down her cheek. She swiped it away and raised her hand in praise to God. She lifted the other and pretended to card wool in the wind.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Cuzbi leapt in the air and swung her arms as if they were waves rolling off the Jordan River.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Not ready to leave the hard ground, Naomi kicked up her heels one at a time, careful not to injure any followers. Her stomach balked at any elaborate jumps.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />A scream rose above the music. Then another.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Had someone fallen? Been burned by the fire?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />From the fields, half-naked men wrapped in loincloths rushed into the circle of dancers. Naomi froze, even though the tempo of the timbrel remained festive. These were not the bathed and robed men of Ephraim coming to celebrate. These were armed warriors. She breathed a prayer of praise that her surviving brother imbibed at the banquet.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />A charging intruder whipped a sling her direction. Covering her head, she crouched under the whoop, whoop, whoop of his weapon.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“God protect me,” she prayed.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Music stopped. Wailing started. Naomi looked up. A raider scooped Cuzbi off her feet. He slung her over his shoulder as if she were a small child.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Regah. Stop!” Naomi screamed.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The strong-armed man vanished into the surrounding vineyard with her friend.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Another assailant plucked a virgin from the scramble of dancers. Naomi reached to grab hold of the girl’s outstretched hand, but a bear of a man blocked her rescue. His weapon whirred in flight above his head. Naomi dove to the side and crashed to the ground, careful to avoid the flames.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Crawling like an asp over a flat-topped boulder, she headed for the fields. A raider grasped at her sleeve. His nails scraped her skin. Pain sizzled down her arm as if embers from the fire had embedded in her flesh.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Kelev. Kelev katan.” The high-pitched insult grew closer. Naomi glanced backward. A scowl-faced boy ran toward her attacker.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her young savior slashed a pointed stick at the assailant, snaring the leather sling. She had seconds to escape. Praise be to God!<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She fled into the harvested rows of vines—in the opposite direction from where Cuzbi had been taken.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Racing along the rows of plants she’d played among as a child, Naomi’s heart lodged in her throat, strangling each breath.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Curses trailed after her. Curses about her speed. Curses in…Hebrew? Her own tongue?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Banking right, she panted as if these bandits had also stolen the night air. She sprinted toward the broken trellis, needing a shortcut through the barricade of vines. If she made it to the olive grove, hiding would be easy among the trunks and branches. Had her sole remaining brother been lazy? Or had he replaced the worn trellis before his revelry? She prayed he’d forgotten his duties this once.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her hand hit the cracked wooden rod. Splintering, it gave way. “Selah,” she exclaimed under her breath, for this one time, her brother’s laziness was praiseworthy.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Ducking under the greenery of the grape plants, she darted toward the station of olive trees. Her sandals thapped against her heels. Certainly the raider would hear her flight, but slowing her pace would put her in peril. Oh, where were the men of Shiloh? Her father? Her brother? And why were these warriors invading a religious celebration?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She passed one olive tree. A second. A third. A fourth. With trembling hands, she beat at the shoots from a tree and buried herself amidst the leaves. She listened for her follower. No footfalls. Good. Her chest burned, greedy for air.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Leaves rustled.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She stilled, but couldn’t silence her breaths. In and out they rushed, sounding like a saw on cedar. Old-growth trees were not far away. She scrambled down another aisle for better cover. Grabbing an olive branch, she propelled herself behind a trunk. She hit something hard. The bark? Her forehead ached as though a rock had pelted her skull. Flickers of flame dotted her vision.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When she went to massage her temple, someone seized her arm.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her stomach cramped. “Leav—”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />A palm smothered her lips. The taste of salt and soil seeped into her mouth. Her back struck the prickly growths from the tree. Protests lodged in her throat. Darkness surrounded her, but she kicked at where her captor’s legs should be. Banishing the dainty kicks of the dance, she thrashed to do damage. Her attacker did not turn aside. He pinned her to the trunk and held fast.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Lewd taunts grew closer. Her pursuer from the vineyard was in the grove.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Oh, God, do not let me be defiled by one man, let alone two.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Answer me quietly. Are you one of the virgins?” Her captor’s command came forth in Hebrew. He lifted his hand from her mouth, leaving barely enough space to answer.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Let me go.” Her breath rushed out as if it too were fleeing these raiders. “I will slip away. I promise not to alert my people.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Shhh.” Her captor pressed his warm palm over her lips.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Virgin. Step forth.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Instantly, she was pulled to the ground. Her captor pinned her hips to the dirt with his weight. He lifted her robe. Cool air bathed her knees, sending a chill throughout her body.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She fisted his hair. “Spare me.” Even with all her strength, she could not remove him from her body. Her heart pounded louder than a ceremonial drum.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He caged her in the dirt and sent his lips crashing into hers.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She squirmed. Her stomach lurched. Her lungs ached. She needed a breath. She needed a savior.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />His weight pressed against her belly. Though he did not take her hem above her thigh. And he did not take her virginity.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Argh.” A roar split the night sky. “Eliab, what are you doing?” The bear-man stood over them, huffing from his pursuit.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her captor finished his kiss. “Lie still.” His words rumbled against her ear. The side of her face prickled from his stubble.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“You mean what have I done?” Her captor’s body continued to cover hers. “I have taken a wife.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He had not! This man, Eliab, had rested upon her, but he had not joined with her. Although if her father or brother caught him atop her, they would beat him until he claimed her as a wife, or offered a hefty sum. She was not about to call Eliab a liar with her pursuer from the fire crouched over them, staring wickedly. Why had Eliab lied? Was he a friend to the tribe of Ephraim? A friend to a tribe of Israel?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Go on, Gera.” Eliab rose, bearing his weight on his forearms. “Find another. We must leave at once. Hurry. Or do you care to look upon another man?” Eliab’s question shot out like a well-aimed arrow.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Gera hesitated. He spat at Eliab’s feet and retreated toward the bonfire.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her spine sank into the ground. Thanks be to God. She reached to right her robe.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Eliab gripped her wrist tighter than a gold band. Realization of his intent sent her heartbeat on another gallop. He had not been a brute, yet he held her prisoner, and he did not seem set on releasing her.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“I am in debt to you. And you will be in debt to my father if he finds you touching me.” She tugged against his rigid arm. Her cheeks warmed like stones near a fire pit. “Let go.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“I cannot deny a fellow Benjamite a wife and then fail to claim her for myself.” With a jerk, he coiled her into his chest.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi stiffened. The thud, thud, thud in her ears grew louder. “You are a murdering Benjamite?”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“One of the few that remain after the slaughter.” His words were sharp as a blade.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Naomi picked up her feet in hopes Eliab would be pulled off balance. He remained rooted to the soil.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Have you come for revenge?” She grunted her question while struggling to free herself. She squinted into the vineyards. No legion of rescuers ascended the raised beds. Did the men of Shiloh believe this raid a hoax? “There cannot be enough Benjamites left alive to stand against one tribe of Israel, let alone all the tribes.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“I risked a raid for my survival. Benjamin will not be cut off from God. Our women and children have been slain. Our men ambushed in battle. Are we to have no heirs?” The anger simmering in his reply caused a shiver to rattle her bones.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She thrashed like an unruly child. Eliab held firm. “You were kind to spare me from your Gera. Now double that kindness and let me be on my way.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Gera’s kinsmen brought destruction on our tribe. If a name is to suffer extinction, it should be his, not mine.” Eliab yanked her off her feet and heaved her over his shoulder. Her temples pulsed as blood rushed to her brain. Fainting would only make his escape easier. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the darkness.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He cinched his hands around her calves and ran. Fast. His shoulder bludgeoned her belly with every jump and jolt. Her stomach spewed up manna and grapes, burning her throat, and muffling her screams.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When his collarbone was about to impale her side, he righted her next to a mule hidden from sight among the brush. She slumped to the ground.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“If you steal me away from my father, God will punish your sin.” Vomit welled in her throat. She swallowed hard. “I did not finish the harvest dance.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Eliab crouched in front of her. His eyes were dark as a clouded night sky and held no mercy. “If I do not take you, one of Israel’s tribes will cease to exist. God has more to be angry about than a missed seduction.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Tears blurred her vision. She swung a fist at him, but he dodged her attack. She clawed at his tunic. At least she did not have to fear loosening a loincloth like those scantily clad attackers near the bonfire. “How dare you rip me from my home? Benjamites killed two of my brothers. Do not take the daughter of a grieving man.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He pried her fingers from his garment and pulled her close. “And what will your father do if he believes you are no longer a virgin?”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“There was no union.” She beat his chest for emphasis. Her knuckles bruised, yet he barely moved.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He pressed his thumbs into her palms and stilled her assault. “No one will bless a union with a Benjamite. No one will give us their daughters. We are left to kidnap Hebrew women. Since I stole you, your father will be held blameless before the elders of the tribes.” He stood and yanked her to her feet.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“My father needs a bride price to buy land.” Her words rushed forth. She grabbed his arm. “You have lost family and so have I. Have we not both suffered? Leave me here and be on your way.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Others may not have been rewarded with a mate tonight. Shall I send you into their bed and disappoint my father?” No joy rang from his words. He did not seem giddy like a bridegroom in a marriage tent.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She stepped backward. Could she outrun him in the darkness? She had to. This was her home. Her land. Her tribe.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He caught her wrist and wrapped it with rope. Stray strands scratched her skin.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Please.” She tensed her muscles and pulled against his weight to no avail. Tears wet her cheeks as he bound her other wrist. “My family—”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Most of my family is buried in a mountain.” He unhitched the mule and snapped the reins.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Her body stilled as if encased in clay. Eliab wasn’t listening to her hardship.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Distant shouts echoed from the vineyard.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />“Father.” Her voice squawked like a strangled pigeon.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Eliab stifled her shouts with a rag. “You can ride the mule or I will drag you behind it. Decide. Now.” He turned toward the road. “Hoist the nets.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Was he going to trap her kin like wild beasts?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In a blur, he mounted his ride, still holding the rope as if she were a wayward goat.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />How could she leave Shiloh? Leave her mother? Leave her father? Her legs trembled as if the ground shook. She did not take a step.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The mule trotted forward.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />With no arms for balance, she fell on her side. Her jaw ached from the gag. Coughing, she tugged on the rope and struggled to rise. If he kicked the animal, she would be dragged through rock and dirt.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Eliab dismounted, swept her into his arms, and sat her sideways on the mule. He had caught her and now he caged her with reins at her back and reins at her chest. His body imprisoned her. He leaned into her arm and slapped the mule’s rump. “Hah.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />She grabbed the animal’s mane, weaving her fingers into the coarse hair for balance.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />How could the tribe of Benjamin thieve wives from the tribe of Ephraim? Where was their honor? Where was their shame? And where was God? The feast this night was in His honor.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />While Eliab was intent on the terrain, she worked a silver band from her finger and let it slip down her leg, down the mule’s withers, to the ground. She would leave a trail for the men of Shiloh.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />For what was lost could be found.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Droid Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thanks so much for joining me this week! </span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Droid Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I hope you've enjoyed this peek into <em>Building Benjamin: Naomi's Journey.</em> Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy.</span></span></h3>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-88890996550239861202017-10-08T20:31:00.001-05:002017-10-08T20:31:50.738-05:00Week #40: Gift of the Magpie by Zoe M. McCarthy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Zoe%20M.%20McCarthy&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3AZoe%20M.%20McCarthy" target="_blank">Gift of the Magpie</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Amanda
Larrowe’s lack of trust sabotages her relationships. The English teacher and
award-winning author of middle-grade adventure books for boys has shut off
communication with friends and family to meet her January 2 book deadline. Now,
in the deepest snow accumulation Richmond, Virginia has experienced in years,
Camden Lancaster moves in across the street. After ten years, her heart still
smarts from the humiliating aftermath of their perfect high school Valentine’s
Day date. He may have transformed into a handsome, amiable man, but his
likeability doesn’t instill trust in Amanda’s heart. When Cam doesn’t recognize
her on their first two encounters, she thinks it’s safe to be his fair-weather
neighbor. Boy is she wrong.</span></div>
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<em>Excerpt:</em></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Who in her
right mind agreed to a January 2 book deadline, knowing she’d spend Christmas
alone, holed up in her house hammering laptop keys? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">From her
desk, Amanda Larrowe stared out her living room picture window at two feet of
pristine snow—thanks to a snowfall so rare in Virginia that none of Richmond’s
small snowplow squadron had made it to her neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">A loud
rumble came from beyond her window view. Amanda half stood and leaned forward
to look down the street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">A snowplow.
“Hurray!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">A green
moving van traveled in the plow’s wake and parked in front of the empty
Craftsman house across the street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Well, huh.
The owners had never staked a For Sale sign in the yard. Maybe they’d decided
to rent the place. Strange that people would move in two days before Christmas.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Yeah. As
bizarre as a middle school teacher desperately needing a break—that would be
her— slaving over her manuscript during the holiday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The rental
truck, a small-sized option, stopped far enough down the street that she
couldn’t see into the driver’s window. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">“Come on,
new neighbor. Get out of the truck and show yourself.”</span><span lang="JA" style="font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-bidi-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"> </span><span lang="JA" style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The door
opened, and a guy in jeans, a blue-and-green plaid flannel shirt, and work
boots unfolded himself from the truck. Long and lean. Late twenties. Would a
Mrs. Long-and-Lean emerge from the other side? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The guy
walked to the back of the truck and raised the door. No one joined him there or
high-stepped through snow up to the front porch. A single guy? Not bad. Not bad
at— <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Wait one
southern minute. Amanda stood taller and leaned toward the window. It couldn’t
be. Not Cam Lancaster. But, boy, even with whiskers shadowing his jaw, he
resembled her high school foe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Amanda
scrambled around her chair and across the rug, hit the hardwood floor in her
wool socks, and slid to the hall coat closet. She groped behind her stack of
scarves for her field glasses, then returned to the desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The guy had
lowered the loading ramp. Binoculars to her eyes, she adjusted the lenses. Now,
if he’d turn toward her again ... There. She had the guy’s face framed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"> She
lowered the field glasses and sank into her chair. Wha ...? Where ...? Why ...?
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><strong>~~~~~</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Thanks so much for joining me this week! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into<em> Gift of the Magpie</em> by Zoe M. McCarthy. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing.</span></div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-38036837093267603572017-09-04T11:11:00.001-05:002017-09-06T13:49:06.711-05:00Book Release: Autumn Falls (Paradise Pines, Book 3)<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
A special message from my friend Delia Latham.......</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I had a book release on the 1st...and I've been so busy I didn't even think to raise a noise about it. My <i>very</i> bad! lol </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway, AUTUMN FALLS is now available on Amazon. Yay! So excited. This is Book 3 in the 4-book Paradise Pines series.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Falls-Paradise-Pines-Latham-ebook/dp/B074N8TZF8/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="523" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXkEvbajYUlGrMqx52vxwxoUqhED__ahSGilX5Nz9XpUPZmS0e_0ABA0HZMLu0sGtrSgSaFtCTVBgGomJ5Sgr6tDj27y5ou0YHtArgxG5c-tjvPLW9YMxvTq9HXTYLul2ORL0TJnsge4/s320/Autumn+Falls_3D.png" width="203" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Autumn Warren and her friend Cecily determine to have
one last hurrah before the crazy whirl of planning Ceci’s wedding. Autumn
reluctantly agrees to lay off the barbed comments about her friend’s imminent
move to Italy—for no better reason than that she fell in love!—and the girls
rent an apartment at Cambria’s Paradise Pines Lodge for the entire fall season.
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Autumn’s agreement to silence her outraged protests in
no way indicates a change of heart about letting a man into her own life. She’s
watched enough friends get married and divorced to sour her forever on the
subject of love and the sanctity of marriage. If she ever does fall in love,
it’ll be forever…and she's seen absolutely zero evidence of that kind of
devotion even existing. Autumn doesn’t believe in divorce, and given the
current statistics, why even risk it? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Then she meets Russ Amundsen and his adorable
daughter, DeLyn, and finds herself in danger of losing her carefully guarded
heart. And what is it about the mysterious Miss Angelina Love—who may or may
not own Paradise Pines—that makes Autumn believe her heart never stood a chance
once she set foot inside the lodge?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Purchase links:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Falls-Paradise-Pines-Latham-ebook/dp/B074N8TZF8/" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=820&zenid=da6b70febe7676bfa9f46376e77bdf23" target="_blank">Pelican Book Group</a><br />
<br />
And a special message from me, Mary Manners:<br />
<br />
I will be giving away a copy of Autumn Falls on Monday, September 11. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Good luck, stay safe, and check back on Monday to see if you are the winner!</div>
Delia Lathamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06946544790382023164noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-70669305554903029092017-09-04T00:00:00.000-05:002017-09-04T00:00:00.313-05:00Week 36: Crystal Wishes by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKROUpHUzFOy_mqmTboQTzjXCpzGHotwxQkSjxihfOXWnWjSf-Py_nv8J7uCildCl2tnwX0r-zIyCFgl2nzWcfLoUHpniSysE1m0MF5qeisQdFHt-Sf-Ax9d73UzLYXtUaTq5-vOg3x60W/s1600/Crystal+Wishes_Cover+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKROUpHUzFOy_mqmTboQTzjXCpzGHotwxQkSjxihfOXWnWjSf-Py_nv8J7uCildCl2tnwX0r-zIyCFgl2nzWcfLoUHpniSysE1m0MF5qeisQdFHt-Sf-Ax9d73UzLYXtUaTq5-vOg3x60W/s320/Crystal+Wishes_Cover+LJPG.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Crystal-Wishes-Diamond-Knot-Dreams-ebook/dp/B074MJGZJQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1502212383&sr=1-1&keywords=crystal+wishes+manners" target="_blank">Crystal Wishes (Diamond Knot Dreams #4)</a></div>
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</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Blurb:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As a clothing-buyer-turned-seamstress with an eye for fashion, Skylar Lannigan’s hands whisper tender ballads over fabric. She fills a sketchbook with flowing and whimsical designs—including versions of a to-die-for wedding dress for her own wedding day—if she’d only find Mr. Right. She’d once imagined a bright future with Adam Caldwell, until he took off with no explanation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Adam Caldwell’s life has been a series of hairpin curves since the night a tragic accident claimed both his parents and nearly the life of his sister, Faith, as well. When Faith, who's still recovering from her injuries, asks for help selecting a wedding dress, Adam accompanies her to Diamond Knot Dreams. He's soon reunited with beautiful and lively Skylar Lannigan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Adam would love to rekindle a romance with Skylar, but will events from their past rise up to destroy any hope for a future?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">1<sup>st</sup>
Chapter:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Skylar,
do you have a minute? I could use some help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Skylar Lannigan lifted her gaze from
the sketchbook on her desk to find Claire Kendrick—it had taken some practice
to drop the surname, McLaughlin, since Claire had married architect Ryan
Kendrick last April—standing in the doorway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sure.
What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Faith Caldwell is here for her
fitting, and we’re having a bit of trouble with the dress she ordered.” Claire
strolled into the room. Her deep blue eyes radiated happiness. She splayed one
hand to her growing belly as the life blossoming inside kicked and squirmed.
“The bridal gown that she ordered months ago—that’s what she’s come to try on
again today—is too tapered and snug to conceal her bulky leg brace. And, she’s
a bit self-conscious of the sleeveless bodice, due to scars that are continuing
to heal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She was in that terrible car
accident a few months ago, wasn’t she?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes…along
with her parents.” Claire paused as she reached Skylar’s desk. “Unfortunately,
her parents didn’t survive.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh,
how awful. I remember the news report.” Skylar’s heart tugged as the segment
flashed through her mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Two
people are dead, another seriously injured as the driver of an SUV traveling
north along I-75 lost control and breached the median, barreling head-on into
the oncoming lane. All traffic is being rerouted and an investigation is
underway…”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The wedding was postponed to give
Faith time to recover. She’s still got a way to go, but the nuptials are back
on track again.” Claire reached for the sketchbook, glanced at Skylar’s
detailed drawing, and gasped. “Oh, what a gorgeous dress!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thanks.”
It was an elegant ball gown style that sported a scoop neck adorned with a
delicate mesh overlay, tastefully embroidered with tulle at the bodice and then
tapering along the whimsical sweep train. Skylar melted at the thought of it.
Now, if only the brides she catered to might feel the same. She mentally
crossed her fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are
you going to spotlight it on the Diamond Knot Dreams website?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Avery already took care of it.”
Avery Lakin—now Ingram, since she’d married Jason Ingram the previous year,
Diamond Knot Dreams’ marketing genius and best friend to Claire and Skylar.
“She’ll have all of the dresses posted to the site within the next few weeks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s
fabulous.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
know. June seems like a long way off, but it’s never too early to prepare for
the summer rush.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A trill of excitement danced along
Skylar’s spine. Her dream of designing bridal gowns for a living was quickly
coming to fruition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The skirt on that dress is just
what Faith Caldwell has been looking for.” Claire rounded the desk and eased in
at her side. “And I think the flowing train—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
it’s a sweep train,” Skylar explained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Right.
I believe that particular style, coupled with a sheer overlay at her shoulders,
would heighten Faith’s comfort level and make her feel like a princess.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Every bride should feel like a
princess.” Skylar believed that with all her heart. She prayed to one day know
first-hand what it felt like to walk down the aisle to a man who would become
her life partner…her husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only
in your dreams, Skylar.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She brushed aside the thought as
Claire continued. “Yes, this design would most definitely afford a
princess-like feel for Faith despite the bulky leg brace she’s required to
use.” She tapped the sketch, nodding emphatically. “The therapist said Faith
will have to continue wearing it for at least another month, past the date of
her wedding, which is merely three weeks away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Three
weeks?” Skylar’s voice squeaked. “Did you say Faith’s wedding is only three
weeks away?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
did. December seventeenth. She’s here today to make a last-minute attempt to
avert wedding day disaster. She held out so long because she hoped…she really,
really hoped she’d be out of the leg brace by now. But she’s not, so that
mermaid-style, strapless number she chose last spring just isn’t going to
work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yikes.
This is an emergency. We need a miracle.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You
can do it, Faith. I have complete confidence in your abilities.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
hope I don’t let you—or Faith—down.” Skylar closed her sketchbook and stood to
stretch a nagging ache that had set up along the base of her spine. “Did you
say she’s waiting by the dressing rooms?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.” Claire slung her purse strap
over one shoulder. “I have a doctor’s appointment in half-an-hour, so would you
mind if I bowed out and let you take things from here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course not.” Skylar’s gaze
drifted to Claire’s ballooning abdomen, covered in a maternity shirt that was
stretched to the hilt. “How’s little Abby doing today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She’s kicking up a storm.” Claire
patted her mounded belly. “I believe she’s trying to somersault her way out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It won’t be long now until you’re a
mommy in addition to Ryan’s wife <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i>
sister-in-law to Caleb.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Caleb
was Ryan’s step-brother, about to turn fourteen. He lived with Claire and Ryan
since his mother had taken off to points unknown and his grandmother, who had
been his primary caregiver, had passed away. Both Ryan and Claire had become
Caleb’s legal guardians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s a lot to take on, but this
little one still has a while to go. Her due date is December
twenty-fourth—Christmas Eve.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
know. Do you think you’ll make it that long?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Today, I don’t think so. It’s a
race to see which will happen first—Faith Caldwell’s wedding or Abby’s birth.
I’m hoping Faith wins, because the doctor says every day that passes gives Abby
a chance to grow stronger.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Claire had endured a few
complications during the course of her pregnancy, so Skylar sent up a quick
prayer that Abby would stay put for the time being. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Go
on to the doctor and then head home to prop up your feet. I’ll make sure all
your upcoming cake orders are organized and order any supplies you need.”
Claire had jotted a list during lunch. “Lila, Avery and I will make the kitchen
sparkle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thanks. I left my list for
everything I’ll be needing to finish the holiday orders on the kitchen
countertop, and Mrs. Burchett is supposed to call with last minute details for
her granddaughter’s reception.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ll
field the call and take notes. No worries.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
owe you, Sky.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, you don’t.” Skylar gently
squeezed Claire’s shoulder. “This is what friends do—we take care of each
other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you.” Claire smiled through a
sudden flurry of tears. “Goodness…oh my…here I go again, spouting waterworks. I
don’t know what’s wrong with me. Lately I get weepy at the drop of a hat. I’m
just so…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Happy?” Skylar finished for her.
“Yes, those are happy tears. The joy radiates from your core, Claire.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As they neared the dressing area,
Claire turned to Skylar. “I’m so glad you decided to come to Diamond Knot
Dreams.” She hugged her hard. “Now we’re all here—you, me, Lila and Avery. It’s
a blessing to work with such good friends.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> a blessing.” Skylar returned the hug, warmed by the thought
that, despite the detours she’d taken to get here, God had seen her through.
She sniffled and handed Claire a tissue. “Now, go take care of that baby of
yours and then head home for a breather.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ryan’s been a gem. He and Caleb
cooked dinner last night and they even washed all the dishes and tidied the
kitchen. It was sweet to watch them roll up their sleeves and fumble through
the kitchen cabinets, searching for pots and pans and mixing spoons. And, the
spaghetti was delicious.” Claire dabbed at her pretty blue eyes. “Abby is all
Caleb talks about. He’s excited to be an uncle. I’ll have plenty of help when
my sweet little baby finally makes her grand entrance into the world.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re a lucky woman, Claire, to
have found a man who loves you so unconditionally. I hope I’ll be as fortunate
one of these days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh…never fear, my friend.” Claire
patted Skylar’s cheek. “God has a plan for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hopefully, He’ll reveal that plan
before I turn eighty.” Skylar rolled her eyes. “These days, I’m not so sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Never fear. Great things are in
store for you.” Claire balled the tissue and stuffed it into her purse. “Now,
enough of this babbling. I’m off to the doctor. I’ll call you later with a full
report.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’d
better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“In
the meantime, good luck helping Faith. I know you’ll find a way to please both
her and her brother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Her brother?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
Adam.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Skylar’s
throat went dry as a vision of Adam Caldwell’s light brown hair and denim-blue
eyes leapt to mind. Though it had been more than eight months since they’d last
seen one another, the vision was crystal clear. “I didn’t know he was in town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sure
he’s in town. I thought you knew…he’s rented a place on Bradford Street and has
been commuting from Clover Cove to Knoxville for work since Faith came home
from the rehab center. I heard through the grapevine that he’s considering
relocating to Clover Cove permanently.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
really. It all hinges on a surgical position at the hospital. He’s been
consulting there.” Claire’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “You mentioned the
two of you met a while back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“We…sort
of met.” Skylar turned away, because she knew Claire had the ability to read
her emotions better than a forensic scientist reads fingerprints. “But you’re
right…it’s been a while ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“And?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“It
was a disaster, so I never expected to see him again…and especially not like
this.” Skylar fisted her hands as her throat tightened. “Never mind. It’s all
water under the bridge…a lesson learned the hard way. But I suppose I can
understand why Adam might want to join Faith here today, given the fact
that…their parents…oh, my.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Skylar pressed the fingers of one
clenched hand to her lips, unable to finish. Her heart swelled with sympathy
for the orphaned bride-to-be. With her father gone, who would walk Faith down
the aisle to meet her groom?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suddenly, the scent of roses flooded
the room. Skylar pivoted, looking for the source. Faith’s voice murmured down
the hall as she spoke with Adam. Perhaps she’d splashed on perfume.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re being very cryptic, Skylar,
but I’ll get to the bottom of things.” Claire nodded to affirm. “I always do.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’d
better get going.” Skylar nudged her toward the door. “The baby…your
appointment…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nice
little two-step, my friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
floral scent grew even stronger. Skylar lifted her gaze to the second floor
staircase, which seemed to lead to the source. Perhaps Lila had ordered a few
floral arrangements to freshen the upstairs offices, and the scent had found
its way to the first floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Claire
continued, “Maybe you and Adam were meant to see each other again…to pick up
wherever the two of you left off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“We
left off in disaster, so there’s no point in that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“There
is a point in everything—and a future—where God is involved.” Claire patted her
belly as if to emphasize the thought. “But, I suppose there’s nothing more to
Adam’s visit today than the fact that Faith covets his support, seeing as their
mom is…gone.” Claire sniffed the air and suddenly shifted topics. “She’s at it
again…Ellie and her mischievous antics.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ellie?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
our spirited visitor from the past. And if I know anything about her, I know
she’s come for love.” Claire winked conspiratorially. “And, if she has her way,
I’m sure that soon we’ll <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">both</i> have
news to share.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t
worry, Faith, we’ll find—” Adam paused as a shadow crossed the doorway, casting
a reflection along a three-way mirror that lined one wall of the dressing area.
His gaze swept toward the source, and his breath caught as his pulse
cartwheeled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good morning, Faith.” Skylar
Lannigan strolled toward them, her movements every bit as fluid as Adam
remembered. Her hair was quite a bit longer than the last time he’d seen her,
now a fountain of rich chocolate that tumbled to the middle of her back. A
sweep of bangs framed smoky gray eyes while her lips were washed in a soft pink
color. His heart to stammer through several painful beats as his mind replayed
one thought…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’d
like to kiss her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Skylar.”
Adam rose from his chair and took a step toward her. “I didn’t expect to see
you here. But I had hoped—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hello, Adam.” Her voice clipped
like a honed pair of sewing shears. She nodded curtly as she made a beeline for
Faith, who stood on the circular dress-fitting pedestal, frowning at her
reflection from the three-way mirror. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This just isn’t going to work at
all,” Faith groaned as she tugged at the skirt of the mermaid-style dress,
trying her best to coax the fitted, narrow skirt over her bulky leg brace. The
fabric refused to cooperate, and Adam grimaced because there was nothing at all
that he could do to fix the problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But
Skylar could, he thought with a ray of hope as he settled back into his chair
and ordered his heart to find a respectable cadence. He shifted his attention
to Faith. “It’s going to be OK, sis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No,
it isn’t. I can’t get married looking like this!” Tears filled Faith’s eyes and
Adam’s heart splintered. Hadn’t she been through enough with the accident and
losing their parents, then months of recovery? “Oh, what am I going to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re going to step down and take
a breath.” Skylar rounded the pedestal. She drank in the metal brace that ran
thigh to ankle along Faith’s right leg. Scars, finally beginning to fade to a
pinkish-white sheen, crisscrossed along Faith’s collarbone, now fully revealed
by a sleeveless neckline. “Listen to your brother. What he says is true.
Everything’s going to be OK.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Really?” Faith swiped at her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry to act like such an ungrateful bridezilla. It’s really not my
nature to stress like this. It’s just—” She smiled weakly as she took the
tissue Skylar offered and mopped her eyes. “Are you a miracle worker?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No. I’m Skylar Lannigan…Diamond
Knot Dreams’ dress designer and seamstress. I’m here to customize a new dress
of your dreams. The sky’s the limit.” Skylar placed a notebook in the empty
chair beside Adam and offered Faith a hand. “I won’t quit until you feel every
ounce the beautiful bride.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you.” Faith’s sigh of relief
seemed to release every ounce of tension she’d been harboring. She straightened
her shoulders. “You’re very kind. When I heard you’d come to Diamond Knot
Dreams I knew I had to see you. Channel Ten said you’re the best of the best,
and the Clover Cove Times did that feature on you last week. Finding you here
is fortuitous. By all accounts you’re…amazing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And
you’re also positively gorgeous</i>, Adam thought as guilt stabbed him straight
in the heart. He’d hurt Skylar. The evidence resonated in her wideset eyes and
the tiny clench of her jaw that he sensed she was trying very hard to control.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She avoided eye contact. Was her
heart racing as much as his? Did she entertain any warm—he’d even, at this
point, settle for lukewarm—feelings toward him, cloaked by the resentment
clearly evident in her eyes? He could only pray…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, I’ll do my best to live up to
all the pomp and circumstance that’s been built through the media.” Skylar rounded
the pedestal, scrutinizing Faith from all angles. “Let’s see here…I’m imagining
several ideas, but don’t have much time to bring them to fruition. So we’re
going to have to work at lightning speed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m ready. Things have been moving
slowly for too long now. This wedding was supposed to happen last August, but…”
Faith sniffled as fresh tears sprouted. “By the way, Adam came with to…help
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I see.” Skylar refused to look his
way, though she smiled readily at Faith. “I suppose he’s the one who told you
about my designs.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
that’s right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ll
have to thank him for that.” She said the words as if they had a sour flavor.
“In the meantime, I’m so sorry about your parents.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you.” Faith squeezed Skylar’s
hand. “I wouldn’t have bothered you with my problem. After all, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> buy this dress last spring before
the accident and before I knew I could find you here. I only came here today in
an attempt to have it re-altered, because when I saw you on the news Adam
mentioned that he’d met you in Chicago and that it’s true you are amazing when
it comes to bridal gowns. He positively gushed when he told me about you,
and…and I thought maybe you could help. He insisted you could—and you
would—even though the wedding is only weeks away and it’s hardly your fault
that this dress no longer works for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Faith
rambled on, and Adam figured the verbal flood was better than a waterfall of
tears, so he let it go. Skylar seemed to sense the same as she stepped back,
folded her hands—bare of an engagement ring, he noted with an odd mixture of
relief and anticipation—and waited oh-so-patiently for Faith to talk herself
out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
put off making any changes to the dress because I was hoping…” Faith slapped at
the brace. “I was hoping I’d shed this contraption like a snake shedding old
skin. But it’s not going to happen soon enough, so here I am.” Faith blew out a
breath and her blonde bangs danced above pretty green eyes. “I don’t expect you
to make an exchange, but Adam cajoled me into coming for the fitting anyway,
insisting that perhaps there’s something you can do to the skirt so it will fit
over this.” She patted the bulky brace once more. “And add a shrug of some sort
to conceal these scars.” Again, she motioned to her shoulders with a flourish.
“He said—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Adam was right—about you returning
here today, at least. We are going to make this right, Faith, if it takes every
moment right up until the Wedding March begins.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“But,
as I told you before, my wedding is in less than a month. So how on earth—?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Prayer—especially
coupled with faith and hard work—can move mountains. You just leave the
worrying to me.” Skylar nodded curtly as she took Faith’s hand and helped her
from the platform. “So, let’s get started, shall we?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of
course.” Faith’s eyes lit up like a child’s, and Adam could hardly fathom that
in less than a month his younger sister—the only immediate family he had left
in the world—would become a wife. It seemed incomprehensible. He still thought
of her as his baby sister, since at barely twenty-four she stood a full six
years younger than he.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come
with me.” Skylar turned toward the doorway. Her hair caught the overhead light,
and for a moment she seemed to be crowned by a shimmering halo. The slight
scent of roses drifted, filling the room with a breath of warm, sweet
anticipation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As
he had on so many occasions the past eight months, Adam wished he could take
back the hurt he’d caused Skylar. But it was too late to turn back time. He
could only move forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As
Skylar and Faith exited the room, Adam knew he had to make things right again,
no matter how long it took. He had never been a quitter. Now, if only he could
prove that to Skylar, they’d have a chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A chance for what, Adam wasn’t
quite sure. He simply knew he had to press forward, starting today…starting
now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </h4>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>Thanks so much for joining me this week. Hope you have enjoyed this peek into my Diamond Knot Dreams series. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, September 11. Good luck!</em></span></h4>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-51423667735832806242017-08-28T00:00:00.000-05:002017-08-28T00:00:01.448-05:00Week 35: A Changed Agent by Tracey Lyons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRA-dNqqMwPNF_JI9cJNHJ4Z5NxZ2c_8vwrLwH7LDaKV-IC2SKkRSanOBXabubld6UQEfYJrK6LX1zAXf60mb4lYmeTHqoB5fNYKeUa5WC8nb9QdypJg6Pt0W9uHkgNZXyScOw5sP95r3/s1600/50.jpgchangedagent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="825" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRA-dNqqMwPNF_JI9cJNHJ4Z5NxZ2c_8vwrLwH7LDaKV-IC2SKkRSanOBXabubld6UQEfYJrK6LX1zAXf60mb4lYmeTHqoB5fNYKeUa5WC8nb9QdypJg6Pt0W9uHkgNZXyScOw5sP95r3/s320/50.jpgchangedagent.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Changed-Agent-Adirondack-Pinkertons-ebook/dp/B01AI1UUIM/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1502203901&sr=1-1&keywords=a+changed+agent" target="_blank">A Changed Agent</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>Blurb:</em></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When
schoolteacher Elsie Mitchell meets rugged William Benton on a train platform in
Albany, it appears they have nothing in common. He isn’t the sort of fellow a
proper young woman of the 1890s would ever speak to, much less become involved
with. But when she arrives at her small town in the Adirondack Mountains, Elsie
is offered a job as caregiver for this mysterious out-of-towner’s niece and
nephew, who’ve been tragically orphaned. Heartbroken for them, she accepts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Unknown
to her, William is an undercover Pinkerton agent posing as a lumber-company
foreman. He’s never wanted family—his work is too dangerous. Yet as Elsie
transforms his house into a home and he spends time with the children, he feels
drawn to family life—and to Elsie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>1st Chapter</em>:</h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1890s Adirondack Mountains New
York State<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“My trunk!” Elsie Mitchell
watched in horror as her trunk fell off the over packed porter’s wagon,
spilling its contents onto the platform at the Albany train station. Grasping
at her skirts, she ran along the damp cobblestones to rescue her garments. The
porter rushed to right the trunk while Elsie knelt in the cold drizzle and
began stuffing her skirts and blouses back inside. “Thank you for your help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Steadying the trunk, he said,
“I’m afraid I got caught up wanting to get everyone to the train on time and I
overloaded the cart.” The rotund man looked at her in dismay. “There won’t be
another train heading up to the Adirondacks until next week.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Elsie cast a furtive glance at an
older well-dressed couple who scur- ried by her. A plume of black smoke belched
from the great engine. She had to be home later today. After a two-week break,
she needed time to prepare for the upcoming school session. She gathered up
another blouse and a lace petticoat, cramming them inside the trunk. “I must be
on this train.” Needing the porter’s help, she reached into her reticule,
retrieving a coin from the last of her travel allotment. She gave the money to
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">An older woman stopped by and
whispered some words to the porter, who shook his head. Then she opened her
hand to show off not one but two coins. Giving Elsie a brief “Sorry, miss,” he
hurried off to earn the tip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If she was to make this train,
there wasn’t a moment left to give the porter’s desertion another thought. She
knelt among her things, praying she’d be able to leave today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The answer to her prayer came in
the form of a Good Samaritan who bent down next to her, handing her a pair of
white pantaloons. Ever so grateful for the extra help, Elsie took them and then
gasped in shock when she realized the hand helping her belonged to a man ruggedly
dressed like a lumberjack about to head up the mountain. A thick, reddish-brown
beard covered most of his face, making it hard for her to discern what he
really looked like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thank you, but I don’t need any
help.” Embarrassed that this stranger had a full view of her underthings, she
avoided meeting his gaze, quickly putting the garment in the trunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The train will be pulling out in
a few minutes. I’m thinking you mean to get on board before then,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Deciding it would be better to
accept this benevolent stranger’s help than miss the train, Elsie gave him a
brisk nod. Past his shoulder she spotted two young children standing a short
distance behind him, a boy and a girl, similar in height. Elsie guessed them to
be about seven or eight years old. Safely under the cover of the platform
canopy, the boy held the girl’s hand snugly inside his while she had her free
arm wrapped securely around a rag doll with golden hair that was a near match
to the child’s. Elsie straightened for a better look at them, her heart
thudding against her rib cage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a schoolteacher in the Adirondack mountain
village of Heartston, New York, where she was returning, Elsie prided herself
on how intuitively she knew the needs of her students. And now captivated by
the expressions on these little ones’ faces, she couldn’t take her eyes from
the pair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The children seemed to be
watching them, their expressions lost and forlorn. She swung her gaze back to
the man helping her, asking, “Are those children with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“They are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When a moment passed and he
offered no more explanation, her natural curiosity had her wondering where he’d
come from and where he would be heading with the children. They looked so
alone. What had happened to them? There didn’t seem to be anyone other than
this man accompanying them. She wondered where their mother was. She said, “I
can handle the repacking of my trunk. You should get back to your children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The children are fine, and I’ve
no doubt you can finish this on your own.” The stranger’s mouth quirked upward,
and then he said, “But if you don’t get a move on, you’re going to miss the
train. So why don’t you let me be of service?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Much to her vexation, he began
again to hand her odds and ends of undergarments. Shaking his head, he asked,
“How can one woman possibly need all these things?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She thought surely his wife must
have all these basics in her ward- robe. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw
him pick up a pair of black stockings. These were one of the few things she
splurged on with her schoolteacher’s salary, and she didn’t want him to ruin
them. She forced herself to stand stock-still as they slipped through his worn
fingers into her outstretched hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Elsie put the stockings in the
trunk, then pushed the lid down, only to be met with resistance. Leaning her
full weight into it, she let out a very unladylike grunt. When that didn’t
work, she sat on top of the trunk, trying to push the bulging mess closed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She gave one last little wiggle,
hoping that would do the trick. She felt the gentleman’s hand on her shoulder.
She stood, stepping aside to give him room to try his luck. Laying his large
hands on top of the stubborn trunk, he pressed down hard. The top resisted his
strength, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I think I see the problem.”
Settling the open lid back on its hinges, he reached in and pulled out a small
pistol that had jammed itself in the hinge when the trunk was upended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He dangled the butt of the gun
between his forefinger and thumb. “The derringer was a gift from my father.”
She’d pleaded with him<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">for the chance to travel
unchaperoned, and he had finally given in, agreeing to let her go unaccompanied
only if she carried the pistol for protection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She took the gun from the stranger’s
hand and confidently placed it in the only empty space left in the trunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And this?” He held up the black
leather-bound Bible with a questioning look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“If you must know, my mother
insists I travel with one of our family’s Bibles.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now he didn’t hide his wide grin.
“You sound like an interesting woman, one who travels with petticoats, a
pistol, and the Good Book. Though it seems to me the book and the gun won’t do
you any good locked away in your trunk.” “There wasn’t room in my travel bag
for any of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally able to slam the trunk
shut, she secured the lock and motioned for the porter to put it on the train.
Turning, she quickly thanked the man who had helped her, hiked up her skirts,
took one last look at the children, and boarded the train.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">**** <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Shaking his head, William Benton
watched the young woman disappear into the train car. Wrangling with the pretty
young lady with the astonishing violet eyes had been the one bright spot in his
week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He glanced over at the two small
children in his company—the little girl who hadn’t spoken to anyone other than
her brother since the day of their parents’ death and the boy who protected
her. Seven-year- old twins, Minnie and Harry Harper were the children of his
late sister and brother-in-law, Amelia and Jason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mustering up a smile, Will made
his way over to them. He’d been preparing for this trip from Albany to
Heartston while recovering from a gunshot wound. The relocation had been
planned. The hole in his shoulder and taking in the children had not. As a Pinkerton
agent, William Benton’s life was a secret. Even his family had no idea how he’d
been making a living. They thought he was a drifter. Which was why he still
couldn’t believe his older sister, Mary Beth, had arrived on his doorstep
earlier this week expecting him to take in these children with no more than a
mere minute’s notice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Helping the children gather their
belongings, he led them to the steps where they would board the train.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking down at the two little
ones, Will felt a heaviness settle in his heart. He couldn’t begin to imagine
the changes these children had had to bear over the recent months. And now they
were dependent on the likes of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Squatting down to be at eye level
with them, he asked, “Have you two been on a train before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nope. I read about them in a
book Ma bought me for Christmas last year,” Harry replied. Scuffing his toe in
the dirt, the boy looked downright dejected. “Aunt Mary Beth threw it away. She
said it was too tattered to keep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Swallowing hard, Will forced down
the anger he was feeling toward his sister. “Looks like we’ll just have to find
you a better book.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay,” the boy replied, even though he didn’t
sound very convinced. “Uncle Will, how long is this train ride going to take?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We’ll be there before sundown.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A fleeting look crossed the boy’s
face as he gave his sister’s hand a quick squeeze. Will didn’t have time to
discern what all that could mean because it was their turn to board. As he
escorted the children onto the train, he couldn’t help what came naturally to
him. He cautiously scanned the space around them to find some empty seats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Seated to their right was an
older couple. Up ahead was a young man slouched down with a cowboy hat pulled
low over his brow, and in the row behind him sat the young woman with eyes the
color of spring violets. Will noticed she’d gotten herself in order and her
black hair was now tucked up under her plain brown bonnet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He couldn’t resist tipping his
hat to her when they walked by. He barely made eye contact with her before she turned
her head to stare out the soot-stained window. He gave a slight shake of his
head, amused by how set she was on ignoring him. He settled the children in
some empty seats five rows past her. Minnie and Harry shared the inside seat
while Will took the aisle one. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed his
feet at the ankles, staring ahead at the seat back in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He liked to use his travel time
to think about his next assignment. According to the updated dossier he’d
received last week, there was intelligence reporting that the thief the agency
had been tracking could be making his way to the mountains with stolen railroad
bonds worth thousands of dollars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Masquerading as a foreman for the
Oliver Lumber Company, Will had let his hair and beard grow long as part of his
disguise. He swept his hand down the length of his scraggly beard in
frustration. How was he going to be able to do his assignment and care for
these children at the same time? Would he be able to provide a decent home for
them once they arrived in Heartston? At least he’d had the wherewithal to send
a telegraph to his Pinkerton contact in Heartston two days ago informing him of
his change in circumstance. The reply had been simple . . . his charges would
be looked after.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Not knowing what to expect, Will
was certain of one thing: his priorities had changed. He’d gone from a loner to
a man who had two children trusting him with their lives. He would not leave
these children in the care of just anyone. Trust and faith had never come easy
for him, and now both were being tested. The sharp twinge of pain in his arm
reminded him that things could go wrong in an instant. Getting shot hadn’t been
in his plan when attempting to capture the pickpocket, but he was dedicated to
his job and what it stood for. He knew full well that once a Pinkerton’s real
identity was discovered, he was rendered useless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They were two hours into the
train ride when it became apparent to Will that something was drastically wrong
with Minnie. Her face had become as white as a sheet, and the poor girl was
clutching her brother’s hand so tightly her knuckles were bleached. The hairs
on the back of Will’s neck prickled as a sense of unease settled over him like
a dark storm cloud. Leaning forward in his seat, Will whispered to Harry, who
looked as scared as he felt. “Harry. What’s wrong with your sister? She doesn’t
look well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The boy’s lower lip trembled. Turning
toward him, the boy whispered, “I think it’s her stomach. She gets sick
whenever we travel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly Will remembered the look
the two of them had exchanged before boarding the train. He had a feeling that
sooner rather than later Minnie would be emptying her stomach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He spotted one of the wrappers
that had held the sandwiches they’d eaten when they first boarded the train.
Minnie made a strange sound. Just as her mouth opened, Will shoved the wrapper
underneath her quivering chin. Who knew that small of a stomach could hold so
much food? Will thought grimly as he opened the window and tossed the offending
wrapper out. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he did his best to wipe
her face and hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The poor girl was shivering. He didn’t know
what to do. He reached out to her, but Minnie shrank back toward her brother.
He felt all thumbs and realized with a tug in his chest that his efforts were
woefully inadequate. If he couldn’t handle an upset stomach, what was he going
to do when something major happened?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">*****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">From her seat Elsie heard the
retching sounds. Peering around, she saw the gentleman who’d helped her earlier
trying to comfort the little girl. Her heart went out to the child, for she
knew firsthand how terrible motion sickness could be. Reaching into her
reticule, she saw the large envelope her former fiancé had entrusted to her
care a few days ago. He’d asked the favor of her taking it to Heartston for
safekeeping until he could come for it. She paused, remembering their awkward
meeting in Albany, then pushed it aside. Groping around the bottom of the bag,
she found the peppermint stick lodged at the bottom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Brushing the nasty coal
cinders—which seemed to seep in from every nook and cranny in the train
car—from her skirt, she rose. The motion from the train jostled her to and fro,
threatening to send her spilling onto the floor. Grabbing hold of the seat back
in front of her, she steadied herself. And then Elsie gingerly made her way
down the narrow aisle to the family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stopping at their seats, she said
in a gentle voice, “She is suffering from motion sickness. I’ve some peppermint
she can suck on. That should help soothe her queasiness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The man turned halfway around in
his seat to look at her. The flat brim of his well-worn black hat tipped back
on his brow, which gave Elsie a full view of his dark eyes. She caught the
flash of recognition when he saw her. Thin lines surrounded the corners of his
eyes. Now that she had time to take a closer look at him, she could see the
clothes he wore looked clean. Yet his duster coat had wear marks at the elbows
and his trousers were thin at the knees. In sharp contrast, the children were
dressed in what looked to be brand-new coats. There was nary a wrinkle on them,
the fabric crisp and clean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The children looked so tired. The
poor little girl’s face had turned a chalky white. Her shoulders hunched
together as shivers overtook her. The little boy patted her on the shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll give her the peppermint.”
The man spoke calmly as his brooding gaze briefly met hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The same unnerving feeling Elsie
had had when she’d taken her stockings from him on the train platform settled
over her. It was as if in that one quick glance, he’d taken in every detail of
her face right down to the smallest freckle. He held his hand open, and she
placed the peppermint stick in his palm. His fingers tightened around hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A frisson of awareness snaked its
way along her spine. Elsie didn’t want to think about her physical reaction to
this stranger. She’d given her heart to Virgil Jensen, and he’d abandoned her
without any regard for her feelings. Ever since then she’d devoted her life to
the young children who crossed the threshold into her classroom. The work left
her without any time to fall in love again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thank you” was all he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Elsie swallowed, forcing out a
response: “You’re welcome.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As he turned his attention back
to the children, she offered up one more bit of advice before heading back to
the safety of her seat. “She should be sitting on your lap. It will help to
improve her stamina if she can see out the window.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Might I know your name now?” he
inquired. “Elsie Mitchell.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tipping his hat to her, he said,
“I’m William Benton.” “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benton.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You, too, Miss Mitchell.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, in a rustling of skirts,
she rushed back to her seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">*****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The weather began to change on
the trip north. As the engine chugged along the Hudson River, the steady rain
became a light but persistent drizzle. When at long last the train pulled into
the Heartston station, Will helped the children off. They were met by the sight
of fat spring snowflakes and a tall beanpole of a man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mr. Benton? I’m Roy Wells. John
Oliver sent me to fetch you and the youngsters.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will shook the man’s hand, then
gathered the children to wait for their trunks to be unloaded. Out of the
corner of his eye he watched for Miss Mitchell, wondering if this would also be
her stop. Then he saw her step down from the car onto the platform. Wells
approached her, too, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. Pulling
his hat low, Will observed them, listening in on their exchange with interest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Miss Mitchell, we were hoping
you’d be on this train!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good afternoon, Mr. Wells. And
who might this we be that you’re talking about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mr. Oliver. He needs to see you
straight away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will knew he was expected to
report in to Agent Oliver, but why did he need to see Miss Mitchell?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can’t he wait until I’ve had
time to settle in?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With a fervent shake of his head,
Wells replied, “No, miss. He said you are to come as soon as you’ve arrived.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have to wait for my trunk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll fetch yours and Mr.
Benton’s and bring them over to Mr. Oliver’s office. You have to go now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will looked up to find Miss
Mitchell standing with her hands grip- ping her reticule, watching him with
those clear violet eyes. He knew she had the same questions he did: What was so
urgent that John Oliver required both of them? What did they have in common
other than being on the same train? And the most troublesome question for him
was, would she somehow become a part of his mission? He hoped not. Will
preferred to work alone. He began to formulate a plan in the event Agent Oliver
suggested Miss Mitchell become part of his assignment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I guess we’d best get moving,”
he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. With a gentle nudge of his hand, Will
urged the children for- ward, following Miss Mitchell down the planked walkway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The train station was at one end
of town, which had been settled in the midst of thick pine forests and craggy
mountains. Drenched in thick gray clouds, the distant high peaks of the
Adirondack Mountains were barely visible. The pungent scent of freshly milled
lumber mingled with the acrid coal smell coming from the train and made his
nose itch. Trying to keep pace with the young woman who was charging down the
main street as though a pack of wolves were nipping at her heels, Will hurried the
children along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Abruptly turning to the right,
they continued down a narrow alley- way where a black sign with an arrow and
gold lettering hung off to one side of a two-story building, pointing the way
to the lumber company’s office. They stopped in front of a door bearing the
markings of the Oliver Lumber Company. Feeling the tingle of unease creep
between his shoulder blades, Will sensed whatever was about to happen hadn’t
been a part of the original arrangement. But then again, nothing in the past few
days had gone accordingly, so why should this meeting be any different?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Squaring his shoulders, Will let
the children and the young lady go ahead of him into a dimly lit room, an annex
housing a small desk, some barrels with “Nails” stenciled in black on the lid,
a stack of crates, and a rough-hewn counter area. No one was there, so he moved
toward a closed door on the opposite side of the room. He knocked once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The door’s open.” A man’s rich
baritone voice sounded from behind the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Removing his hat, Will ushered the children
and Miss Mitchell into a smaller room that served as the office. The space was
sparsely furnished. Pausing in front of the oak desk, he said, “I’m William
Benton.” “John Oliver.” Rising from his chair, Will’s superior came around to
the front of the desk with his hand outstretched. They shook hands. “It’s a
pleasure to finally meet my newest employee. And I see you and Miss Mitchell
have already met.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will glanced at the young woman
who stood with her hands folded in front of her. He saw movement beneath her
skirt and realized she’d begun tapping her toe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Taking a wide-legged stance, John
Oliver folded his arms across his massive chest, looking from one of them to
the other, sizing them up. Will thought himself to be tall at just under six
feet, but this man had to be at least two inches over that in height. Because
Agent Oliver’s dark hair was graying at the temples and wrinkles fanned out
around his sharp blue eyes, Will guessed him to be about thirty-five years old.
He’d heard of John Oliver’s adventures as a Pinkerton agent and knew the man
could be a force to be reckoned with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A feeling of unease worked its
way along his spine. “How was your trip?” Oliver asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“My trip went well, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m glad to hear it.” Now he
looked at the young woman. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Mr. Benton, but Miss
Mitchell is Heartston’s schoolteacher. And a mighty fine one she is. I take it
your trip to Albany was restful, Miss Mitchell?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I had a lovely visit with my
aunt and uncle. But, Mr. Oliver, why did you need to see me in such a hurry? I
would have liked time to freshen up from my trip first.” She managed to put a
smile on her face. And though her smile seemed sincere enough, Will noticed her
toe kept right on tapping.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I beg your forgiveness for my
ill manners, but I’ve a proposition for you involving Mr. Benton and his
charges.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The foot hidden beneath the
skirts stilled. “I can’t imagine, other than the schooling of the children,
what Mr. Benton and I would have to do with one another.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm. That makes two of us,” Will
mumbled, even though he knew full well where this conversation seemed to be
heading as he watched Oliver grin from ear to ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You see, Miss Mitchell,” Oliver
said, “I’ve come up with a solution that will solve both of your problems!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t have any problems,” she
quickly countered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“But you do. Mr. Benton needs
someone to help him care for his niece and nephew while he begins his new job
at my lumber company, and you”—he paused to point a finger at her—“you have
made no secret of the fact that you suffer from a bit of wanderlust. Why, just
the other day our friend Miss Amy Montgomery mentioned how you were going to be
helping her out at the bakery so you could plan your next trip. This, in
addition to the extra tutoring you’ve taken on. You’ve been scrimping and
saving for months. I can’t imagine how you have any spare time at all, Miss
Mitchell.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He leaned closer to her, setting
the snare. “I know how you yearn to expand your traveling horizons for the
benefit of your students, and I’ve found a way for you to do just that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will could all but see the wheels
turning in her head as she put two and two together and came up with the four
of them. Her delicate jaw, which only seconds ago had been clenched, dropped
open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And then she just as quickly
snapped it shut and said, “You want me to help him care for his niece and nephew?
I can’t imagine adding another job to my already full plate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“If you decide to help Mr. Benton
with the children, it will enable you to drop one of those jobs. I’ve taken all
of your needs into consideration. My grandmother’s house has been vacant for almost
a year. Will and the children can live in the main portion of the house.
There’s a small apartment attached that would be suitable for you to occupy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really all you need to do is make sure the
children have someone to watch over them when their uncle is working.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You have assumed an awful lot
here, Mr. Oliver. I’m just not sure about taking on this extra responsibility.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The job comes with a decent
salary, Miss Mitchell.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Will could tell from the way she
nibbled at her lower lip that she was thinking about taking the offer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have been dreaming of a trip
abroad,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Imagine how much your students
would love to hear about those travels!” Pouring on the charm, he ended with,
“Taking on this job can help you get what you wish for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her gaze settled on the
children’s upturned faces. Will watched as her expression softened in sympathy.
Then she turned to him. The look she gave him was clearly more cautious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You say there is an apartment
attached to your grandmother’s house?” she asked Oliver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Oliver nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll just need to be there to
help when Mr. Benton is unable to?” Again he nodded. “So you’ll take the job?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As a good
Christian, Elsie is troubled by William’s secrets…though she does find him
intriguing. And when a sinister figure from her past arrives, Elsie and William
will have to trust in faith and newfound love to protect their unlikely family
from danger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">~~~~~</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>Thanks so much for visiting. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, September 4th.</em></span></h4>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>Good Luck!</em></span></h4>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-2517588142309069162017-08-21T00:00:00.000-05:002017-08-21T00:00:21.803-05:00Week 34: Precious Fire by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeheFgwGFR9eyUstKuqyLxDDQ9SUzeWBoqgaOOXAzQ88AbJVYcsk_SDhHzWOs2mUWO4hLPXjualh0TOLqLfV3QnmMY64X7sVnDZWEw4LVeQh6Boy20nKoc81FuUurSW1DZOYJQJR3cWec/s1600/Precious+Fire+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeheFgwGFR9eyUstKuqyLxDDQ9SUzeWBoqgaOOXAzQ88AbJVYcsk_SDhHzWOs2mUWO4hLPXjualh0TOLqLfV3QnmMY64X7sVnDZWEw4LVeQh6Boy20nKoc81FuUurSW1DZOYJQJR3cWec/s320/Precious+Fire+LJPG.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B073ZKFCRR/ref=series_rw_dp_sw" target="_blank">Precious Fire (Diamond Knot Dreams #3)</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>Blurb:</em></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Claire McLaughlin, weary of running a corporate rat-race,
dreams of pursuing her passion to bake sweet confections. So when former
college roommate Lila Brooks asks for her help with catering services at
Diamond Knot Dreams Bridal Boutique, Claire grabs the invitation with both
hands.<br />
<br />
Ryan Kendrick has returned home to Clover Cove to raise his step-brother
following the death of their grandmother. Hired to renovate the Town Square, he
rents office space on the second floor of Diamond Knot Dreams and soon succumbs
to talented Claire McLaughlin’s sweet confections—as well as the blue-eyed
beauty herself.<br />
<br />
As their romance blooms, so do the shenanigans of Diamond Knot Dreams' meddling
spirit, Ellie. Will her antics help to draw Claire and Ryan closer together, or
bring the blossoming romance to a grinding halt?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>1st Chapter:</em></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Claire
McLaughlin hummed along to the country tune drifting from the radio as she
carefully laced the top tier of a wedding cake with delicate plum-colored bows
made of fondant. The cake was coming along nicely, and she was sure her client,
Laura Dixon, was going to be pleased with the finished product. A few final
touches, and the cake would be ready for delivery. Claire breathed a sigh of
relief. Five o’clock had already come and gone, and she’d worked since
seven-thirty that morning without so much as a lunch break.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A dull ache had set up along
Claire’s lower back and she redirected her thoughts to draw attention from the
niggling pain. She was truly blessed to be designing wedding cakes here at
Diamond Knot Dreams—with two of her best friends in the world as partners—instead
of cooped up at Crown and Barrow, managing the office of an attorney who
appreciated her about as much as the dust on the soles of his polished shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Since Claire had arrived in Clover Cove a few
weeks ago, orders for her confections had been pouring in. From sugar-dusted,
peach-stuffed popovers to lemon cookies and fudge-filled mini cupcakes, clients
could not seem to get enough. Even now, she had a batch of lemon blackberry mini
tarts sitting on the butcher-block cooling table, just waiting to be sampled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If only Lila would return from her afternoon
appointment with the obstetrician, Claire could rope her friend as a guinea pig
who might offer some feedback. She was still in the process of tweaking her
recipes and creating a menu to be posted on the Diamond Knot Dreams website, so
she welcomed the opinions of those she trusted. That included Avery, who had
stepped out for a moment or two to see her new husband, Jason, at the photo
gallery next door. Avery was a marketing genius who would upload the menu as
soon as it was ready.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Diamond Knot Dreams…Claire could
hardly believe she’d arrived to Clover Cove from Nashville to partner with
Avery and Lila, her former college roommates and best friends for the better
part of a decade. The bridal shop had expanded by leaps and bounds since Lila
first spotted the neglected turn-of-the-century Victorian house that had gone
into foreclosure just over three years ago. She’d snatched up the property. Her
husband, Morgan Holt—who at the time was not yet her husband but had quickly
fallen hard for her—had performed the restoration that had transformed the
Victorian into a beautiful, functional showplace that drew brides-to-be from
surrounding towns in droves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Claire, you have a visitor.” Jodi
Stiles, their part time college receptionist, poked her head through the
doorway. Springs of curly red hair framed cornflower-blue eyes and porcelain
skin smattered with freckles. “It’s Ryan Kendrick. He said he spoke on the
phone with you this morning concerning the vacant second-story office space we
have for rent.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, yes.” Claire recalled the slow,
southern drawl of Ryan’s voice and how the warm and inviting tone had melted
her insides. “Sure. Send him on back and we can talk while I finish this cake,
if he doesn’t mind me working through our conversation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind at all. I’ll
fetch him.” Jodi smoothed a hand through her hair. No matter how hard she
tried, the curls refused to be tamed. “And, just for the record, I don’t think
you’ll mind the interruption to your work here either. Ryan Kendrick…well,
let’s just say he’s awfully easy on the eyes. Even better, he’s not here for a
bridal appointment—if you get my drift.” She offered a saucy little wink. “I
mean, he’s not with a fiancé or anything. He’s—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, I get your drift, Jodi, and thanks for the
four-one-one.” Claire placed the final fondant bow on the wedding cake and
added a trio of sugar flowers set off to one side, affording ample space for
bride and groom statuettes to be added upon delivery and set-up. “But I’m not
looking for a romantic relationship at this point in my life. I have too much
on my plate, literally, here at Diamond Knot Dreams. And besides…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Claire let the words trail off. How was she
supposed to explain the fiasco with Dan to Jodi, and why should she even bother
to try? The entire debacle was in the past—though not far enough behind her
that the memory of Dan’s acerbic words didn’t occasionally resurface to sting
like a paper cut that hasn’t fully healed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re way
too serious for me, Claire. You need to loosen up…have a little fun. Your
non-stop work ethic and holier-than-thou morals are a real relationship-killer.
Can’t you ever let loose and embrace a bit of excitement and adventure?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dan’s idea of fun, excitement, and adventure
didn’t seem to match hers. So, their time together eventually became a losing
battle of wills. In the end, Claire grew weary of the fight. Dan had beaten her
to the proverbial punch, breaking off the relationship before she had the
chance. Sure, his rejection stung a bit—more than Claire would care to
admit—but ending things now was infinitely better than the caustic alternative
of making a life-changing mistake with a man who had proven he’d never fully
respect her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Plus, he had a temper that seemed to grow by the
day, one that led Claire to hoist a very big red flag high overhead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“He was a jerk,” Jodi said simply, as if reading Claire’s
mind. “And you deserve better than Dan Maldorf could have ever offered. We all
do.” She shook her head emphatically. “So, I’ll send in Mr. Tall, Blond, and
Scrumptious. Who knows…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good grief, but you’re incorrigible.” Claire had
to laugh, though, as she spied the tray of lemon blackberry mini tarts, settled
like spangled Christmas lights all in a row on the cooling rack. “You wouldn’t
happen to want to sample one of these little beauties, would you, and give me
an idea of what needs to be tweaked…more lemon, less sugar, more blackberries
or a dash of powdered sugar?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course I would.” Jodi eyed the confections
with such a pitiful look of longing that it nearly broke Claire’s heart. “But
they are definitely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> on my list of
diet foods, and I have to work on this freshman forty.” She patted her ample thighs
to emphasize the point. She was now a college junior, and those forty pounds
seemed to be putting up a great resistance to her weight-loss regime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, I know. It’s going to take some time, but
you can do it. Hang in there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thanks. It’s not easy.” Jodi frowned as if she
wanted to believe the vote of confidence, but wasn’t quite convinced. “Cutting
out sweets and walking three miles a day, rain or shine, may very well kill me,
but I’m determined not to give up this time. Chocolate macaroons and fudge
ripple ice cream will just have to wait.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, they will. You keep plowing ahead.” Claire
patted her own belly, conscious of the fact that she’d missed her morning run.
She’d have to make up for it with some time on the treadmill tonight. “Anyway, I
think I just found my guinea pig.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Never mind.” Claire moved to the
sink and rinsed remnants of sticky-sweet sugar from her hands. She dried with a
paper towel, then smoothed a hand through her hair and added a swipe of gloss
to lips that had grown dry as crepe paper from a day spent bathed in the heat
of the oven. “Just send in Mr. Kendrick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Will do. But just to warn you,
Ellie’s been a bit restless today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ellie?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, our elusive friend who putters
in the attic. I call her Ellie, because it just seems to fit. She’s been a bit
out of sorts today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Really? We have a few odd noises around here, a
couple of misplaced objects and you’ve given that a name—Ellie?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, that’s right. Ellie. And she’s wound up
today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good grief.” Claire rolled her eyes yet played
along. “How so?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I was with a client when suddenly we both heard
the music box—you know, the one that Avery found—playing from Lila’s office. And
then something crashed along the landing near the attic stairs. After the
client left, I went to investigate and I found these.” She drew a trio of rose
petals from the back pocket of her khakis. “The entire attic smelled like
roses, though there’s not so much as a bush or bouquet anywhere around there. I
think Ellie put them there, somehow. I know it sounds crazy, but…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, that’s impossible, Jodi.”
Claire took the petals anyway, and held them to her nose. The scent was
unmistakable and still quite strong. “Avery was rummaging around up there early
this morning, looking through the boxes and sorting things. She must have
stumbled across these and dropped them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I suppose that’s more plausible
than my theory. But, after so many years, why would they still smell as if they
fluttered off a bloom this morning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I have no idea. But you make a good
point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Score one for me.” Jodi snatched
the petals from Claire’s fingers, kept two and tucked the third into the pocket
of Claire’s apron. “I’m telling you, Ellie’s restless. And you know what that
leads to....”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire knew
the tale. Both Lila and Avery had found true love upon entering—and working—at
the Victorian. Modern lore chalked that up to some kind of spiritual meddling
by the daughter of former owners, who, as legend had it, still pined for her
lost love. But Claire was a pragmatist at heart, and she was having none of it.
“Besides, even if there is the slightest hint of truth to the tale, I’m
completely immune to romance. I’ve had my fill of dating and broken promises for
the foreseeable future.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve heard that tune before—from
both Lila and Avery. And you know what happened to each of them.” She waggled a
finger and then turned on her heel with a mischievous grin that rankled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Claire stiffened her spine and her heart against
any sort of unseen forces. She refused to fall, yet at the moment she felt
slightly off-kilter. She slipped a hand into her apron pocket and touched the
smooth layer of rose petal. The odd feeling had to be due to the long work day,
nothing more. She was calorie deprived as well as dehydrated. She went to the
refrigerator and found a bottle of water. One generous swallow, and the world
seemed to right itself once again. “There…that’s better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sure, it is.” Jodi paused in the doorway. “Now,
I’m going to fetch Mr. Kendrick. You might want to take another sip or two of
that water before I send him back.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jodi retreated into the foyer. A flurry of murmurs
ensued, and then heavy footsteps sounded along the length of hallway outside
the small kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excuse me?” The male voice carried a
rich, now-familiar southern drawl. “Do you have a moment?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Claire lifted her gaze to find that Jodi’s
description of Ryan Kendrick was right on the mark. He stood tall, blond, and lanky
in a muscular sort of way. His blue-gray eyes mirrored an afternoon autumn sky
while his easy smile drew her in and held tight as sugar glue. Claire’s insides
melted and swirled like warm butter in a bowl of mashed potatoes. She raised
the water bottle to her lips and drained it dry, hoping her tongue would untie
itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I hope I’m not interrupting,” He continued when
she failed to speak. “Ryan Kendrick. I called earlier…about the office space?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Umm…” Claire’s thoughts suddenly went
mushy. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m Claire McLaughlin.
Would you like to be my guinea pig?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Would
I like to be your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i>?” Jason raked
a hand through his hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let me explain.” Claire headed
toward the edge of the table and lifted what looked like a miniature slice of
heaven from a baking tray. “Will you sample this for me and tell me what you
think?” She lifted what looked like a very small fruit-filled pie from the tray,
placed it on a napkin, and handed it to him. “It’s a lemon blackberry mini
tart.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jason drew his gaze from the delicious-looking sweet
to study her. Her eyes were the darkest shade of blue, like the sea following a
summer storm. Rosy cheeks were framed by wheat-blonde hair that spilled like a
gentle waterfall to her shoulders. Though she might be considered petite, she
was nicely-rounded in all the right places—even if the bubblegum pink,
flour-dusted apron concealed most of those appealing curves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">His nerve endings suddenly sizzled and snapped as
if he’d been caught in a lightning storm. Because he couldn’t form a completely
coherent thought, he pointed to the object in Claire’s hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excuse me? What did you say that
is?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just try it and give me your honest
rating—one to ten. Don’t hold back. I can take any criticism you might dish
out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, I’ll say it looks like a
ten.” And so, in his humble and purely male opinion, did Claire. Never one to
turn away any food laced with sugar—especially one that was obviously homemade—Ryan
obliged. He took a generous bite and an explosion of flavor washed over his taste
buds. A low moan escaped his lips as he finished it off. “That was easy. One
hundred and ten.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I rate your tiny piece of heaven
one hundred and ten—one hundred for the food and ten for the service. That smattering
of flour across one of your cheeks merely serves to add to your cuteness
factor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Did you say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cuteness</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Uh huh. And that…” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Lemon blackberry mini tart.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Pure heaven.” Ryan lifted his fingers to his
mouth and kissed the tips in Mama Mia fashion. “Brava. It’s beyond delicious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You really think so?” Claire
scooted over to the fridge door, checking her reflection in the stainless
steel. Frowning, she tore a paper towel from the roll over the sink and swiped
the offending flour from her cheek before turning back to face him. Yes, she
had the cuteness factor in spades. “Are you sure?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, I could try another, just to
be one-hundred percent convinced.” He slanted his lips to form a playful smirk.
“You know…quality control and all that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course.” Claire’s gaze narrowed
slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “There are plenty,
and they shouldn’t go to waste.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m kidding.” Ryan caught her hand
as she started to lift a second tart from the pan. “I don’t need a second
helping to know they are perfect. Did you make them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I did.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And that wedding cake?” He motioned
to the three-tiered, sugar-infused beauty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, I made that, as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ve got quite a gift.” Ryan
rounded the table, eyeing the cake with admiration. “And if those tarts are any
indication, I’ll wager the cake tastes just as good as it looks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’d like to think so.” Claire took
an extra-large delivery box from the shelf, assembled it as if she could do so
in her sleep, and set it on the table beside the cake. “And I hope Laura Dixon
and her husband-to-be like it, too. Do you mind if I package this before I show
you the office space we discussed on the phone this morning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not at all.” If it was up to Ryan,
he’d watch her work all day. There was a unique energy, a cross between ballet and
hip hop, in her movement. He leaned back against the counter and drank it all
in. “I’ve got plenty of time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But he’d text Caleb anyway, to say
he might be just a little delayed picking him up. He didn’t want his step-brother
to worry. He drew his phone from his pocket and shot off the text without
taking his eyes from Claire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In that case, I’ve got a few other
confections that I’ve been working on—fudge-filled cupcakes, hand pies stuffed
with strawberries and cream, raspberry lemon coconut panna cotta tarts—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excuse me? English, please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Here, I’ll show you.” Claire’s
light laughter fluttered like confetti as she crossed the kitchen and
disappeared into a walk-in cooler. She exited a few moments later with a silver
tray filled with a collection of sweets. She set the tray on the counter,
crossed to a cabinet, and then returned to hand him a crystal dessert plate and
a fork. “Go ahead, fill your plate and enjoy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Ryan made his selections. Each sample brought sheer delight as his taste buds danced
a lively tango. He lifted his gaze to connect with Claire’s. “You’re killing
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s certainly not my intention.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nonetheless…” Ryan finished off the
treats, then set his plate and fork in the sink. “I’m your biggest fan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, I’m thoroughly flattered.”
She flashed a smile that arrowed straight to Ryan’s heart. “Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No…thank <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Claire turned her attention to the wedding cake
seated on the table. “Would you mind to give me a hand with this so I don’t
have to pull Jodi from the reception area? I think she’s with a client.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure. It’s the least I can do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The tiers are over-sized—they’re
made to serve a three-hundred-plus crowd—so the cake’s a bit heavy and
unwieldy. It took more time to prepare than I anticipated, so toppling it just
might catapult me into an epic crying jag.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No worries, I’ve got your back.” Ryan
stepped up to the table and nestled in beside her. Careful to follow her lead,
he lifted a corner of the silver-toned disc that the cake sat upon. Elevating
the disc just an inch or so from a metal stand that resembled a turn-style, he
and Claire slipped the cake to the right and then gently lowered it into the
box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mission accomplished.” Claire
dusted her hands on her apron. The spicy floral scent of her perfume was an
appealing contrast to the sugary-sweet aroma emanating from shelves of baking
extracts. “Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re welcome. You don’t have to deliver it, do
you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No. Lila has a dedicated crew for delivery
and set-up, thank goodness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It looks like you’ve got some
cleaning up to do.” Ryan surveyed the arsenal of baking sheets, spatulas,
plastic bags filled with icing and all sorts of decorating paraphernalia. There
was lots of other stuff, too…stuff that until now he had no idea existed and
couldn’t possibly name to save his life. The closest to homemade cake he’d ever
baked came out of a box. Toss in a few eggs, add some oil, and stir it all
together before dumping it into a pan and cooking it until the room smells so
good you can’t stand waiting another minute. Frosting was optional. “Would you
like a hand with the clean-up, too?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Already, he was rolling up the
sleeves of his button-down shirt and wondering where she stored clean aprons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, he had it bad. She did something
to him, and already he was under her spell. He didn’t quite know what to make
of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll get to
it later.” Claire unlaced her apron, balled it into a bundle, and tossed it
into a basket in a laundry closet off the kitchen. “You’ve been kind enough as
it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When she turned back to face him he
noticed that the baby-blue scoop-necked T-shirt she was wearing complemented
her rosy cheeks and blonde hair. He’d never seen a woman quite as beautiful,
flour-dusted and all. He wondered if her lips tasted like the powdered sugar
she’d used to garnish the lemon blackberry tarts and figured he’d have to make
it his mission to find out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suddenly, he wanted to ask her out
in the worst sort of way. “Claire…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes?” She crossed toward him, her
perfume coming back into the range of his olfactory senses. Suddenly he stood
tongue tied. He’d never been tongue-tied in his life. He merely shook his head,
dazed as a catfish caught in a net. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Claire waited a moment. Realizing he wasn’t going
to complete the thought, she offered, “I’d better show you that office space
now. I’ve delayed you long enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh, but he wouldn’t mind to be
delayed by her a bit longer. He jammed his hands deep into his pockets and
cleared his throat, coaxing the return of his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“OK, then. Sounds like a plan.” But
not the plan he wanted. Now, he wanted more. Conversation…a meal together…a
date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ryan followed Claire from the
kitchen, through the great room where Jodi was showing a client invitation
samples on the desktop computer in the reception area, and up a sweeping
staircase to the second floor. As they reached the landing, the scent of roses
blossomed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It smells lovely,” Ryan inhaled. “Like I’ve come
home.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Oh,
it’s just Ellie,” Claire murmured. “Playing tricks again.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~~~</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<em>Thanks so much for joining me this week. I hope you've enjoyed this peek into my Diamond Knot Dreams series. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, August 28.</em></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<em></em> </h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<em>Good Luck!</em></h4>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-73403831608116419372017-08-14T00:00:00.000-05:002017-08-14T00:00:25.231-05:00Week 33: Jeweled Dreams by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_QI_TIMVLYUVX14taDQ43iH2zlM7p_gjWD7vaJ-o-CAjt2smxUyDQvEDeOVm1L4RB2JxAOiELH3jgmveN6-mkdW3T1ggPXETHMBQ5YDAsn9_cygSJpt_kdGclblcGpe9eL7QyNKXfXjk/s1600/Jeweled+Dreams+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_QI_TIMVLYUVX14taDQ43iH2zlM7p_gjWD7vaJ-o-CAjt2smxUyDQvEDeOVm1L4RB2JxAOiELH3jgmveN6-mkdW3T1ggPXETHMBQ5YDAsn9_cygSJpt_kdGclblcGpe9eL7QyNKXfXjk/s320/Jeweled+Dreams+LJPG.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Jeweled-Dreams-Diamond-Knot-Book-ebook/dp/B0721R5HPY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502128433&sr=8-1&keywords=jeweled+dreams+by+mary+manners" target="_blank">Jeweled Dreams (Diamond Knot Dreams #2)</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>Blurb:</em></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">When
best friend Lila Brooks sends out an S.O.S. for help at Diamond Knot Dreams,
graphic designer Avery Lakin heads to Clover Cove. She’s planning to stay
only a few weeks, but nature photographer Jason Ingram captures her attention.
Soon, she finds herself swept up in the beauty of his work…and in him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Jason
Ingram spent his twenties traveling the four corners of the earth as a nature
photographer. But tragedy has called him home to Clover Cove. He’s determined
to share nature's bounty through his photography studio while he focuses on
raising his precocious niece, Kenzie. What he doesn’t plan on is
falling for Avery Lakin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">As strange things
begin to happen at Diamond Knot Dreams—rumored to be haunted—Avery and Jason
must bond together to get to the heart of the matter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>1st Chapter:</em></span></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Excuse me,
miss. Can you please help me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course. Just one sec…” Avery glanced up from the computer screen to find a
petite blonde cherub on tiptoes peeking over the counter. She looked to be all
of five or so, with eyes bright as two nuggets of chocolate. Hair spilled down
her back in a long tangle of windblown curls. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Please,
you hafta hurry. Sadie’s waitin’ for us.” The child’s fingers gripped the
counter edge as she struggled to scramble up the front side to meet Avery
eye-to-eye. Her shoes bumped along the counter wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The shop
door swung open. A gust of warm, rose-scented air swirled inside as a figure
crossed the threshold. A male voice boomed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Mackenzie
Renee Ballentine, get down from there before you hurt yourself and that nice lady
behind the counter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sorry, Uncle Jason.” Immediately, the little
girl released her grip on the counter and dropped to the floor. Avery lifted
her gaze from the child to the entranceway. Her breath hitched at the sight of the
handsome man framed by warm rays of afternoon sunlight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Uncle </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Jason<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">?</i> Well, he didn’t look like any uncle that Avery had ever had the
pleasure of knowing. Each of<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> her</i>
uncles sported grizzled, thinning hair and rheumy eyes that seemed to sense her
darkest secrets. They wore scuffed loafers paired with black socks—not hiking
boots that looked like they’d battled the roughest stretch of the Appalachian
Trail. Or faded jeans that hugged a tall, muscular stature in all the right
places. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> uncle’s onyx eyes were set off by
the deep blue shade of his polo shirt. He dwarfed the precocious child by
several feet. His smile was slow and easy, flashing a row of straight, white
teeth. The exasperated yet gentle manner in which he looked at the little girl
told Avery his warning bark was much worse than his bite. He lifted the miniature
sprite into his arms and deftly swung her up onto his shoulders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I told you
I’d take care of this, Kenzie.” A finger waggled near her face as he struggled
to hold a stern tone. No dice—his chagrin had all the substance of a
marshmallow. “You worried me, wandering off like that. I didn’t know where you
were.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“But I’m
right here, Uncle Jason.” Kenzie squealed with delight as she wrapped her arms
around his neck and held tight. Her tiny sandals, each adorned with an
oversized pink flower, lit up in a rainbow of twinkling colors as her feet
bounced against his chest. “I’m here on your shoulders. And I can see the whole
universe from up this high. You’re tall as a skyscraper.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Not
quite.” He laughed softly as he caught her legs in an attempt to still the
bouncing. “And quit trying to butter me up when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m</i> trying to teach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> a
lesson.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Kenzie
patted his head, running her fingers along the close-cropped coffee-colored
spikes. “What lesson?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“The lesson
that you shouldn’t wander off. You’re only five, you know.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">He drew a
deep breath. Avery imagined he mentally counted to ten. She closed the computer
program she’d been working in and pressed a palm to her lips, trying her best
not to giggle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I’m five
and three quarters. That’s almost six, right?” Kenzie let go of him with one
hand while still hanging on tight with the other. She splayed her free hand as
she counted. “Pretty soon I’ll need all my fingers to show my age. That’s
practically grown up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Not quite,
and let’s not rush things in that department.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“But
Sadie—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Will be
fine for a few minutes longer. She’s with Dr. Phelps, and neither will mind the
wait in this sunshine. Sadie likes the warm sunshine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“But she’s
got to be starving by now and ready to see us. I’ll bet she misses us something
awful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I’m sure
you’re right. We’ll see her soon enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“But the
car…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
know.” His gaze settled on Avery as he leaned into the counter while carefully
balancing Kenzie atop his shoulders. “I’m really sorry to interrupt your work, since
it looks like you’re smack-dab in the middle of an important project. But we
have a sort of pressing situation here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Sort of
pressing?” She quirked a grin. “I’d say, given the low-grade tornado that’s
just swept in, that it’s more than a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sort
of</i> pressing situation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That bad,
huh?” He quirked a grin that set Avery’s belly to fluttering. Those eyes. Oh!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“In a good
way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Well, it
hasn’t exactly reached critical mass yet, but we’re close.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Good thing
I’ve been held hostage by the computer for hours, so I can use a break.” She
stretched kinks from her neck with a smile. As a matter of fact, Kenzie’s
arrival was more than welcome. The child proved a cutie with the mischievous grin
of a pixie. She must be a handful…but a spunky little handful. “It’s really no
problem. I was just about to grab a soda. Would you like one, too?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,
please.” Kenzie ventured a tiny happy-clap before latching back on to Jason.
“Do you have orange? That’s the only kind Uncle Jason lets me have ’cause it’s
caff…caff…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Caffeine
free?” Jason prompted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yep. It’s
caffeine free.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Orange
soda is my favorite, too.” Avery winked conspiratorially. “I happen to have one
can left in the fridge. Shall we share it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,
please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“OK, then…”
Avery opened the mini fridge beneath the counter, drew out the can of orange
soda, and popped the top. Soon, three small plastic cups shared an equal
portion. She handed them off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Kenzie took
a gulp from her cup, swiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and burped
delicately. “’Scuse me, but that hits the spot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It sure
does.” Avery laughed. “How old are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Five.” She
held up her left hand, waggled each finger. “One, two, three, four, five. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And</i> a quarter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The pinkie
finger on her right hand unfurled slightly from her cup and stood at partial,
sideways attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Are you
sure?” She looked five, but that delightful chatter…she had to be at least
twenty-two.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yep, I’m
five. One, two, three, four, five…and a quarter.” She showed her fingers again,
just in case Avery missed the first demonstration. “But sometimes Uncle Jason
says I’m five going on fifteen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, I can
see why.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Uncle
Jason ran out of sodas today, ’cause more people showed up than he expected.
That’s a good thing, though, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I suppose
it is,” Avery agreed, though she was a bit in the dark about exactly what all these
people had shown up for. Something was lost in transmission. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If I can get a word in now,” Jason said after
draining his cup. “I’m sorry to trouble you.” His voice rang deep and
mesmerizing. Kenzie was right, he stood pleasantly tall, with close-cropped
brown hair and deep ridges at the corner of a wide, captivating smile. His
cologne hinted at a touch of early-summer breeze as he splayed both hands on
the countertop and leaned in toward her. “But we have an issue to deal with.
It’s sort of—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Important.
Yes.” Avery leaned in as well, and murmured, “What, exactly, is this pressing
issue of which you speak?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“We’re
trying to move.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
I’m not sure I can help you with that.” Avery drew a tiny sip of her soda as
she smoothed a strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind one ear. “You
see, Diamond Knot Dreams isn’t a realty company, but a bridal boutique. Our
specialty is planning the perfect wedding, not helping you to relocate to your ideal
swatch of real estate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
we know that.” Kenzie piped up. “At least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
</i>know that.” She bent down and cupped a hand at Avery’s ear as she continued
with a whisper, “Miss Lila and I are friends. Sometimes she lets me come over
to visit while she’s working. But you wouldn’t know that, ’cause you’re new
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Is that
so?” Avery chuckled softly. “I suppose I would have found that out on my own
soon enough. But you’re right, I’ve only been here in Clover Cove a handful of
days, so I’m still learning the ropes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Actually,
she’d arrived here a week ago but had just settled into her small rental house
enough to come on into work for the first time yesterday. Lila’s call for help with
the expansion of her Diamond Knot Dreams Bridal Boutique had come out of the blue,
and the timing was perfect. Avery had just quit her job as a graphic designer
for Chandler-Tate to branch out on her own. She’d grown weary of trudging
through lengthy and frenzied work hours for diminishing pay. Lila’s SOS was
just the boost she needed to set her dream into action. Of course, the breakup
with Bruce had only served to add fuel to the fire. She yearned to move far,
far away from the disappointment and ensuing tension that followed the break-up.
Within days she’d packed the essentials, loaded her Jeep, and without so much
as a glance back over one shoulder, driven the ten-hour stretch from New York
to Clover Cove. How long she’d remain, she wasn’t sure. Luckily, she’d signed a
month-to-month lease with the kind-hearted septuagenarian Margaret Shepherd,
who seemed in no hurry to procure her signature for anything more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Just let me know by the twenty-fifth of each
month if you plan to stay on for another. That’s when they run the monthly ad
special in the Clover Cove Times.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Avery
smiled to herself. She sure knew one thing—she didn’t miss the frantic, cutthroat
pace of city life. Or Bruce, after the way he’d dumped her the minute he found
out she was quitting her day job to pursue a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Dreams don’t pay the rent, Avery. How are we
supposed to build a future together? I thought you had the same goal as me—to
rise to the top of the corporate ladder as quickly as possible and ride the
wave for the duration, whatever it takes.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Nope, she
didn’t miss one bit of it. And their break-up, however painful, had proved a
blessing in disguise. Bruce had ulterior motives that soon became crystal
clear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">He’d wanted
her hard work and success to fund his gambling habit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Avery had experienced
a light bulb moment of epic proportions—a sea of floodlights. A rise to the top
of the corporate ladder wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, especially when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> hard work put the bulk of cash in a
stranger’s pocket—or the pocket of Bruce’s bookie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">If she was
going to work her tail off, it would be for a friend—for Lila—who had been
there for her through good times and bad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know you just got here yesterday.” Kenzie’s
sweet voice broke through Avery’s thoughts. “We saw you crossing the parking
lot from our shop window. Uncle Jason did this low kinda whistle when he spotted
you. It went like this…” She attempted to replicate the sound but drew only a
flurry of slobber. “Anyway, you get my drift.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">You get my drift? Jason had pegged it—was the
kid five or fifteen?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, I get
your drift.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Good
grief.” Jason covered his face with one hand, but not before Avery noticed the
hint of blush that tinged his jawline. “We have to work on boundaries, Kenzie. For
goodness sake, that’s quite enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">But it
wasn’t enough for Avery. She had questions…lots of them. And every one that was
answered seemed to bring on another. She took Kenzie’s empty cup and tossed it
into the trash can along with hers. “How did you come to know Lila?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“She and
mommy were bestest friends before…” She frowned slightly. “Well, before Mommy
went to Heaven.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Oh,
right.” Avery patted Kenzie’s knee. “Lila told me about that. I’m so sorry,
honey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s why
Uncle Jason came back from ’laska…to take care of me. He’s my daddy now, even
though I still have a daddy in Heaven…and a mama, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, you
do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“But I
don’t have an earth mama anymore, and I miss her this much.” She spread her
arms wide. “But maybe Uncle Jason will find me a mama. Maybe he’ll fall in love
and get—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s
enough, Kenzie.” Jason broke in. “We don’t have time for a life synopsis right
now—or to analyze the possibilities for our future. Have you forgotten about
Sadie?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Nope.” She
shook her head and swiped at her eyes. If Avery read her cards right, Jason had
grown a little misty, as well. From the little bit Lila had shared, Avery knew
that Kenzie’s mom, Molly, was Jason’s sister. Both Molly and her husband Marshall
had been killed when the motorcycle they were on was T-boned by an intoxicated
driver on their way back from an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon ride in
early February. Kenzie had been at the bridal shop with Lila at the time, and Lila’s
husband Morgan, who had once been good friends with Jason, had to make the
call. The pain was still raw, and most likely would be for quite some time to
come. Now, Kenzie sniffled slightly as she continued, “I’d never forget Sadie.
She needs us. I guess we hafta get going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“My point
exactly. OK, then…” Jason set Kenzie back on the floor and gathered a set of
keys from his pocket as he turned his attention to Avery. “I’m well aware that
Diamond Knot Dreams isn’t a realty company. Anyone with half a brain might gather
as much from the front yard signage.” He waved his free hand through the air,
motioning toward the display window. “And those mannequins dressed in bridal
gowns are a sure indication.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
right.” Avery rose from the cushioned stool and stretched kinks from the small
of her spine. She’d promised Lila she’d have the requested Diamond Knot Dreams
website updates completed by closing time today and, despite her weary muscles
and energy-zapped brain she meant to keep her word. “So, how can I help you with
this mystery move you speak of?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
can tell me who owns that bumblebee-yellow Jeep in the parking lot.” Jason
indicated the offending vehicle with a jab of his index finger. “The
less-than-stellar parking job has my truck pinned in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh…”
Avery caught her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed gently as the heat of
blush coursed over her cheeks. She was sure, if the telltale temperature
continued to soar, that she’d soon look like the twin of an overripe beet.
“That would be me. I was in a bit of a hurry when I arrived here this morning
and the lot was packed full—due to some photography show or something—so I just
wedged into a spot that I thought would be the least inconvenient. I meant to
find a better place when things cleared out, but I guess I got lost in my work
and forgot all about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jason
lobbed his empty drink cup into the trash can. “It’s no problem, the
photography show was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> doing—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Uncle
Jason takes pictures of mountains and trees and ’specially the river and lotsa
stuff like that.” Kenzie jabbed a thumb in his direction. “Mama used to say
he’s a world trav’ler who would rather sleep under the twinkling stars than in
a warm, comfy bed. But he’s home now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s
enough, Kenzie. I’ll take it from here.” Jason offered Avery a wry smile as he
scrubbed a hand through his hair. The guy was obviously way beyond his element
when it came to dealing with spirited Mackenzie. “Now that we know the jeep
belongs to you, if you don’t mind to head out to the lot and find a new parking
place, we really need to get moving. We have someone waiting on us, so we need
to head out of here ASAP.” He flashed a smile that stole her breath. “By the
way, I suppose I should officially introduce myself. I’m Jason Ingram.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
I gathered. I’m Avery Lakin.” She offered her hand and found his grip solid, warm
and inviting. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason. And you, too, Mackenzie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
you can call me Kenzie. I’m only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mac</i>kenzie
when I’m in big-time trouble and about to get a time-out. Then it’s Mackenzie
Renee Ballentine.” She shivered. “Oh, I don’t like time-outs at all!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
totally understand. I’ve certainly served my fair share of them.” Avery nodded
solemnly. “I used to be—and suppose I still am from time to time, according to
my mom—Avery Paris Lakin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Paris?”
Kenzie’s eyes widened as her mouth formed a sweet little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh</i>. “You mean Paris…like the place?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Uh
huh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
learned about that in Kindergarten. My teacher brought pictures of the Eiffel
Tower ’cause she went there on her ’moon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“You mean
her honeymoon?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yeah,
that. Paris is a pretty name.” Kenzie popped a finger into her mouth and gnawed
on the nail for a moment. “I guess your mama and daddy named you that ’cause
you’re so pretty. Isn’t she pretty?” She looked to Jason for affirmation,
tugging on the hem of his shirt for good measure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,
she’s…” He hesitated as he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Very easy on the
eyes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
means extra-special pretty.” Kenzie attempted to wink at Avery and both eyes
squinted shut. Her cheeks puffed out in the cutest display of female camaraderie.
“I’d even whistle if I could, just like Uncle Jason did. He said I’ll learn by
the time I’m six. That gives me a whole week to figure it out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Avery
rounded to the front of the counter and knelt to Kenzie’s level. She brushed a
lock of hair back from the child’s dark eyes. “Your birthday is in a week?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Uh huh.”
Kenzie nodded vigorously. “Next Saturday. That’s why we’re goin’ to get Sadie.
Uncle Jason said she’s gonna help us celebrate the special occasion a little early.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I’ll
agree that a birthday is certainly a special time.” Avery pulled back. “So, I’m
glad you have a special friend to share it with.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Like Sadie. Who </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">is<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> this Sadie? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jason
slanted a look Kenzie’s way. “OK, Miss loquacious—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
means talkative.” Kenzie giggled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
absolutely correct.” Avery chuckled right along with her, though she still
wondered about the special friend named Sadie. A slight prick of envy poked at
her. “And a broad vocabulary is a strong sign of intelligence, so I’d say you
rank right up there at the tip top, sweetie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If
I could get a word in edgewise here…” Jason drew his hands from his pockets and
crossed his arms. Keys that were nestled together on a large, silver ring jangled
freely. The muscles along his chest bowed beneath the fabric of his shirt. Judging
from the deep shade of sun-kissed tan cloaking the terrain of his biceps and skimming
along the length of his clean-shaven jaw, Avery figured he was no stranger to
the great outdoors. “I suppose we’re neighbors of sorts, Miss Lakin—or is it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mrs.</i> Lakin?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
neither. Just call me Avery.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“All right
then…Avery.” His gaze swept to her ring finger, and Avery thought she saw a
slight hint of relief when he noticed the appendage was devoid of jewelry. “Well,
I own the photography studio next door.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
right. Outside Shots…it’s a nice place from what I can tell, though I haven’t
had the chance to step inside and take a look for myself—yet.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“You’ll
have to do that, soon. Don’t be a stranger, Avery.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">There he
went again, murmuring her name. The engaging tone of his voice sent a tiny
trill through her, clear to her toes. She loved the way her name rolled from
his lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She could
listen to him say it all day long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Of course
not.” The words came with a slight tremble. She was being ridiculous. He had a
Sadie, and she was waiting on him. Avery reached back across the counter, closed
the cover of her laptop, and set it to one side. The work would have to wait
until Jason backed away—both literally and figuratively—and her brain had time
to refresh itself from all thoughts of him. What, exactly, was going on here?
She’d never reacted this way—ever—to a man, even if he did happen to be the on
the Most Handsome Man Alive list. And Jason, she was certain, would grace the
pole position there. “I’ll make it a point to stop in for a visit before the
week is out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That
doesn’t leave much time, so it sounds like a good plan.” He nodded, cementing
the agreement. “I’d…like that very much.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Me, too!”
Kenzie chimed in. “I’ll show you all of Uncle Jason’s ’laska pictures. Do you
know he saw a grizzly there? He has the pictures to prove it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Wow,
that’s something.” Avery paused for a moment as the faint sound of music
suddenly drifted from the floor above. From the way he craned his neck, Jason
heard it, as well. Odd…she hadn’t ever noticed the sound before. Had Lila left
a radio on in the office suite upstairs when she left to run errands? “Lila
mentioned you moved in a few months ago, and that we share the parking lot. I
guess that was why it was so crowded out there earlier today. All those anxious
June brides-to-be coupled with your summer exposition.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s the season, all right.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
it is.” Avery pursed her lips, dry and chapped from several hours’ work without
a break. She ran the tip of her tongue over them and wished she’d thought to
tuck a tube of gloss into her pocket. She could sure use it now. “I’m not
complaining, because the overflow is job security, I suppose, and Lila wants so
badly for Diamond Knot Dreams to be successful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“By all
accounts, it already is. I gather that’s why she called you in as a
reinforcement—and a friend.” Jason lifted his gaze toward the ceiling, where
the music continued to resonate through the floorboards of the landing above.
“Speaking of job security…do you have customers up there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“No, but
the music—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“—just got
louder.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe it’s
the lady.” Kenzie scooted toward the edge of the counter and peered through the
rungs of the sweeping staircase. “She’s nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“What
lady?” Jason asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“The one
who wears the funny-looking dress with the collar that comes up to here.”
Kenzie cuffed both hands around her neck to demonstrate. “And she wears a necklace
that sparkles. I’ve seen her in the window…the one in the turret upstairs.” She
leaned back to whisper to Avery. “A turret’s that pointy part of the roof that
has a round room beneath it. Diamond Knot Dreams has <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two</i> turrets, but the lady likes the one in front best. She likes to
look out of it. I think she’s watching for someone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Kenzie…your
imagination…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It’s not
my imagination, Uncle Jason. Miss Lila knows she’s around here, too. And
Morgan. They told me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Morgan
Holt…that would be Lila’s husband. They’d been happily married for a little
more than a year after a very rocky start to their friendship. As Lila told it
with a laugh, she’d commissioned Morgan to renovate the Victorian into what was
now Diamond Knot Dreams, and along with the master carpentry, she’d also
acquired a husband. Morgan’s version, of course, was slightly different. But he
proved a good-natured sort, and the two somehow managed to make their
differences work like a well-oiled machine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Avery
silenced Jason’s objections with a slight wave of her hand. She smiled at
Kenzie. “You’re very smart for five-years-old.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Five-and-three-quarters.”
She held up the fingers to prove it, though the three-quarters presented a bit
of a challenge. “I’ll be six next Saturday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,
that’s what you said. Saturday…hmm...” Avery knelt down to Kenzie’s level once
again. She placed a hand on each of Kenzie’s small shoulders. “Do you have
something special planned for your birthday?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I dunno.”
Kenzie shrugged. “But Sadie’s pretty special, I think, and we’re all gonna
celebrate together tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sadie again. Good grief.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“You
mentioned seeing a lady here, sweetie.” Avery leveled her gaze. “What lady are
you talking about? Do you know her name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, what
lady?” Jason echoed. “I’ve never seen her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, but
you will…both of you.” Kenzie smiled. “I don’t know her name, but I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> know that she likes to stand in the room
by the front turret when nobody’s up there, and she likes you too, Avery.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“How do you
know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Kenzie
shrugged. “I just do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Well…oh
my.” Avery pressed a hand to her chest as she rose to face Jason. Judging from
his expression, he felt just as bewildered by the elusive prediction as she.
“I’m…just a little bit speechless…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Speechless…”
Kenzie echoed as she twirled a curl around her index finger. “That’s the
opposite of loquacious, right? They’re called anty-nyms. My teacher said so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Your
teacher is a very smart lady.” Avery turned back toward the staircase as the
air conditioning kicked on. A breath of cool air coursed up her spine to tickle
the loose hairs along the nape of her neck. She shrugged and struggled to
formulate an explanation for the music that continued to play on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Jason’s
gaze locked with hers. “Any ideas? I’m fresh out of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It must be
a radio playing a tune, to go on for as long as it has. A music box would have
surely wound down by now. Lila enjoys listening to the local country station while
she works. Maybe she set an alarm to music—to remind her of an appointment or
something—and the station got switched by accident.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It sounds
more like a slightly out-of-tune piano…or the tines of a music box.” Jason started
toward the winding stairs that led to the second floor. “Do you want me to head
up and take a look?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Me, too!”
Kenzie scampered fast at his heels, eager to explore. “Wait for me. I want to see,
too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, I’m sure it’s fine.” Avery dodged them
both, blocking Kenzie’s path. There was no way she’d place the child in any
manner of the unknown, even if it amounted to no more than an errant radio.
Somehow, though, she sensed this was more. “Lila warned me that sometimes
strange things happen around here, but they’re nothing to be afraid of.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“She told
me that, too,” Kenzie added. “The first time I told her about the lady.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“She did?”
Avery asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Uh huh.”
Kenzie nodded vigorously. “She said she’s never seen her, but sometimes she
smells roses when she goes upstairs, even though there aren’t any flowers up
there. I think the lady likes roses.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Are you
sure you don’t want me to take a look?” Jason asked again, sidestepping Avery
as he nudged Kenzie to the rear. “I don’t mind a bit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s
very generous of you, but, of course I’m sure. Besides, you don’t want to keep
whoever’s waiting on you…waiting. Sadie, was it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yep.
Sadie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Avery took
Kenzie’s hand and led her back toward the front counter. She bent to snatch her
purse from a low shelf and rummaged for her car keys, suddenly overcome with an
odd wish that it was she who might spend the evening with Jason and Kenzie
instead of the elusive Sadie. She chalked up the feeling to a twinge of
homesickness for the familiar New York landscape. Though she didn’t miss the
chaos, there was a certain comfort in the bustling pace of the city. Hopefully,
Clover Cove would soon become familiar enough to call her true home. Lila had
promised to introduce her to a few people and also take her on a tour of the
town once she got settled in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Satisfied
when she felt the cool metal of keys against her palm, Avery tucked her purse back
on the shelf and unfolded herself to face Jason, who had loped back to join
them once again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Yes, he was
a vision…easy on the eyes with a smile that could probably charm the straw from
the chubby limbs of a scarecrow. She could hardly locate her tongue. Suddenly
her throat felt as if she’d just spent a string of scorching days heedlessly roaming
the Sahara with no sign of an oasis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“In that
case…” Jason’s gaze slipped from Avery to Kenzie and then back again. “…whoever
this lady is that Kenzie speaks of…I sure hope she favors me, as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, she
does.” Kenzie smiled as she gazed once again toward the upper landing along the
sweeping staircase. “Yep, she says you pass muster with flying colors…whatever
that means.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I’d have
to agree,” Avery murmured with a slight twinge of longing. “Flying colors,
indeed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Excuse
me?” Jason leaned in, his aftershave a hint of summer promise. “I missed that
last comment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">But Kenzie
fisted her hand, pressed it to her mouth, and giggled. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She</i>, obviously, had not missed the subtle innuendo. “I think she’s
twitter-pated, Uncle Jason—just like you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Well,
that’s certainly fortuitous.” Jason laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“What does
that mean?” Kenzie wanted to know as she tugged at his shirt once again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Avery
explained. “It means unexpected…by chance, sweetie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, like
you parkin’ your Jeep too close to our truck or us meeting Sadie?” Kenzie
asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, just
like that—fortuitous.” Avery’s heart tugged. There was that Sadie again. Kenzie
was obviously smitten with her. Was Jason just as infatuated? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Never
mind.” A slight wave of Avery’s hand dismissed the conversation. She rounded
the counter and headed toward the door with the keys to her offending Jeep in
hand. She crooked a finger at Jason. “Follow me, Mr. Photo Guy, and I’ll spring
both you and your truck from the parking lot. How does that sound?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just
perfect.” He unfolded his arms and reached for the door, holding it wide for both
her and Kenzie to pass through. “That would be my pleasure.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The scent
of roses drifted as Avery stepped onto the oversized, wrap-around porch that
framed the bridal shop. Bushes clustered to the right, in a colorful burst of full
bloom beneath the forward-facing turret. Mid-May sunshine kissed her cheeks as
she glanced up toward the turret window, hoping for a glimpse of the mystery
lady. She gasped as sunlight flickered over glass, certain she saw the sweeping
movement of a shadow. In the gentle gasp of moments, a wave of warmth coursed
through her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Suddenly she
sensed something wonderful was about to unfold.</span></div>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>~~~~~</o:p></span></div>
<h4 align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><em> </em></h4>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><em>Thanks for visiting. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, August 21. </em></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><em>Good luck!</em></o:p></span></h4>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center">
</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-19160617875498398482017-08-07T12:22:00.000-05:002017-08-07T12:22:29.383-05:00Week 32: All That Glitters by Clare Revell<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuumHEmWv-qm745ix4at9SQF4m3JPPamIcW2UXQOtcK6gYKGxAsP-TanpULqpTryRIcRaTcOM4hpFrkxYdc-kvNh1Rj-arMGi6edQnIV3Ah_Wgy7IW53FfLWLqVPTKWCBiyNmaqIMIPaia/s1600/51CCc6-0ONL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="307" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuumHEmWv-qm745ix4at9SQF4m3JPPamIcW2UXQOtcK6gYKGxAsP-TanpULqpTryRIcRaTcOM4hpFrkxYdc-kvNh1Rj-arMGi6edQnIV3Ah_Wgy7IW53FfLWLqVPTKWCBiyNmaqIMIPaia/s320/51CCc6-0ONL.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/All-that-Glitters-Romance-Enjoyment-ebook/dp/B071JYRWHB/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502126175&sr=8-1&keywords=All+that+Glitters+Revell" target="_blank">All That Glitters</a></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<em>Blurb:</em></h3>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gold
medalist, Peter Stanmore has returned home a broken man and intends to put the
past behind him. But love isn't so easily repressed, and second chances are
rare.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill
Davenport has given up any hope of marriage and a life of her own, after all,
years ago, she lost the only man she ever loved. But the truth is impossible to
hide.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When
secrets are revealed, decisions must be made in spite of the consequences. Can
what was once lost be found, or is love destined to remain forever lost?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<h3 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Excerpt:</em></span></h3>
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<o:p><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Jill?
Jill Davenport, as I live and breathe, is that you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She
jerked her hand back from the bread and looked into eyes that dragged her in
and swallowed her whole. “Yeah…” Her voice died in her throat and she had to
cough to make it work. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Hello, Peter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Peter
Stanmore looked as gorgeous as he always had, as he leaned on a cane next to
her. His ankle was in one of those Velcro support boots, surprising her as
she’d expected a cast. His dark hair, longer than she remembered stuck up
untidily as well as brushing against his collar. His green eyes still as
piercing as they were all those years ago, although now their brightness was dimmed
with grief. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
rest of him however, was just as striking as when she last saw him. And judging
by the way her heart pounded, her stomach flipped and lack of air currently in
her lungs, he still had the same effect on her. She struggled to breathe, light
headed through lack of oxygen. Simply being this close to him was intoxicating,
mind numbing and overwhelming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Of
all the places to bump into you, I didn’t think it would be here.” His voice
concentrated her mind; which could only be a good thing. “What are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shopping,”
she said, stating the obvious as she seemed incapable of doing anything else
right now. “The thing same as you are doing. The same thing most people do in a
grocery shop. Unless you’re Mrs. Jones, in which case you’re here to gossip.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
guess some people never change, but you sure have.” Amusement tinged his voice
as his gaze swept up and down her figure, before lingering on her head and
face. “What’s with the hair?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill
ran her hand over the top of her head. Had she left the comb in her hair? Left
a single plait in or splashed bleach in it and now had a white streak in her
dark locks? “I d-don’t…” she stuttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s
long,” he said. “I’ve never seen you with long hair before.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh.
I stopped cutting it years ago. I usually tie it back, but haven’t gotten that
far this morning.” She pulled a band from her jacket pocket and tied her hair
back into a high ponytail. “There.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Then,
out of a desperate need to get back onto solid ground, she held the loaf of
whole meal bread out to him. “Here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Peter
shook his head. “You have it. You got to it first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s
fine,” she insisted. The solid ground, she so desperately needed, could only be
found by ending this conversation and sudden encounter right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
can eat white bread just as easily.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill
rolled her eyes. “And I can make my own.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Really?”
Surprise filled his face. “That’s a talent I don’t possess. Most things I can
cook, but my bread always turns out doughy and inedible. Mum always says…said
I’m the reason shop bought bread was invented.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill
put the bread into his basket. “Then you should definitely take this one. I must
get on. Have fun shopping.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She
headed into the next aisle and leaned against the freezer of vegetables,
rubbing the back of her neck. She hadn’t expected the reaction to seeing him
again that now flooded her. Every nerve ending sang and her pulse raced,
conflicting with the pitting in her stomach and the way the scars around her
broken heart ached. They were old friends from school, who became skating
partners, who then dated off the ice. They’d been teased by their competitors
for their chasteness and she’d hoped and prayed that his kisses would one day
lead to more and her happy ever after would mean marriage and life with Peter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But
it hadn’t happened. He’d dropped her like hot cakes to pursue a solo career.
The last thing she needed was someone like Peter back in her life. No, not
someone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like</i> him, rather <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i> personified. The last thing she
needed was him back in her life, breaking her heart all over again. They were
so over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She
shook herself and opened the freezer to pull out a packet of frozen peas. A
hand reached down and grabbed the same packet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill
sighed. Not again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This
is getting to be a habit.” Peter pulled back. “You can have this one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks.”
Jill picked up the peas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Bumping
into Peter was a habit she wanted to avoid. Moreover it was a habit she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i> to avoid if she were to have any
hope of getting home before her nerves shattered into a million tiny pieces and
went spinning off into the heavens. She moved away and continued to shop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Only
to find she reached the checkout at the same point he did. Somehow Jill managed
to resist raising her eyes heavenward as she all but begged God to stop them
meeting like this. It wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run. There
was too much water under the broken bridge between them to ever hope it would
be mended or gulfed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Peter
held out a hand. “Ladies first. We seem destined to meet today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“That
we do.” She began unloading her basket onto the conveyor belt. She could feel
his gaze almost burning through her jacket and glanced back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It
seems a shame to waste the opportunity destiny has presented us with. Can I buy
you coffee? We could catch up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<h4 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Thanks so much for joining us this week. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing and check back on Monday, August 14 to see if you've won a copy. </em></span></h4>
<h4 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Good luck!</em></span></h4>
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</div>
</o:p><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
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</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-56198962543687554692017-07-24T00:00:00.000-05:002017-07-24T00:00:05.956-05:00Week #30: Moonlight Kisses by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJwVNku01QLGhPzrma7X4LIAki_osHqRViX4Eln6Ocb9q7DpP1D9_s1PGu33vsnBXmMtYX4kVaLe0Itc5cGWh5kx-1DZQU3ri8cNVSptqbNEvWgPJrcxm43_f1MayenEbOjvrfagAF9qj/s1600/Moonlight+Kisses+%2528%25235%2529+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJwVNku01QLGhPzrma7X4LIAki_osHqRViX4Eln6Ocb9q7DpP1D9_s1PGu33vsnBXmMtYX4kVaLe0Itc5cGWh5kx-1DZQU3ri8cNVSptqbNEvWgPJrcxm43_f1MayenEbOjvrfagAF9qj/s320/Moonlight+Kisses+%2528%25235%2529+LJPG.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Moonlight-Kisses-Honeysuckle-Cove-Book-ebook/dp/B071HH8C2M/ref=pd_sim_351_2?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=XKEVPDCSY4E4EV4PPRAR" target="_blank">Moonlight Kisses</a></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie
Caldwell shared her first kiss many moons ago with Holt McCaffrey along the
property of Honeysuckle Cove Inn. She’s sure he’s forgotten the moment, but she
never will. Jaylie’s dreams led her to Chicago and a coveted position as
evening anchor for Channel 8 News, while Holt stayed behind to climb the ranks
of the Honeysuckle Cove Police Department. But, when an emergency calls Jaylie
home, Holt is waiting.<br />
<br />
Holt McCaffrey is honor bound to protect the community of Honeysuckle Cove, so,
when an accident puts the life of a friend in jeopardy, he holds himself
personally responsible. He’s finally gotten his wish from a long-ago moonlit
night when he shared a sweet kiss with Jaylie Caldwell—she has returned home.
But will the terms of her homecoming leave any room for forgiveness...or for
him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie Caldwell leaned forward in
the chair and pressed her cheek against the kitchen table with a sigh.
Exhaustion burrowed into her bones. She’d give away her entire collection of
shoes for a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t summon the energy to rise from the
seat and crank up the coffeemaker on Grandma Nan’s kitchen counter to brew a
pot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank goodness Gran had come home
from the hospital and was finally in her own bed again, sleeping peacefully
with the help of painkillers Dr. Metz had prescribed. The past few days had
been nothing short of a raging tempest woven with worry and frazzled nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Gran had taken a tumble down the
back porch steps and cracked her head hard enough to open a gash that required
half-a-dozen stitches. It was no small miracle she hadn’t broken a leg or a
hip, as well. Thankfully, Gran’s bones proved as hardy as her stubborn streak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank
goodness…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie’s gaze wandered along
painted sunflower yellow cabinets and over walls where a flurry of
carefully-framed photos and drawings spoke to the years she’d spent growing up
in the modest frame house. The pastel of an outdoor scene that she’d designed
for Gran’s sixtieth birthday stood the focal point. The image was frozen in
time, a cheerful splash of color that spoke to Gran’s vibrant personality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hopefully, that fighting spirit
would carry Gran through this tough time and into a full recovery. As far as
Jaylie had gathered up to this point, something in the back yard had spooked
Gran during a storm that swept through last Friday night. When Gran had
ventured outside to check things out she’d slipped on the porch stairs and
taken a tumble. How long she’d lain there on the pavement, unconscious and
bleeding, remained a mystery. Mrs. Talley, Gran’s longtime neighbor, had
discovered her as she went to fetch the morning paper. Zeke, Gran’s quirky
chocolate lab, had alerted Mrs. Talley with a lengthy bout of uncharacteristic,
frenzied barking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">News of the accident traveled
fast through the tightknit Honeysuckle Cove community. During the forty-eight
hours Grandma Nan had spent in the hospital, good wishes, along with enough
food to fill a supermarket chain, filtered into the house. Platters of various
sizes filled the fridge and overflowed onto countertops. Mrs. Werner’s apple
cobbler sweetened the air while a plate of brownies that had been heaped tall
enough to feed an army winked from the center of the cozy dining table tucked
into the bay-windowed breakfast nook. And the fridge…Jaylie could barely get
the door to close after storing all the perishables. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No one in this house would go
hungry. No, sir. Jaylie’s hips widened just thinking about the buffet of fried
chicken and vegetable lasagna, baked honey ham and sweet potato casserole. Just
about everyone in town had stopped by to check on Gran. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Everybody loved Grandma Nan.
She’d taught third grade at Honeysuckle Cove Elementary for over forty years.
Just about every resident under the age of fifty had come through her classroom
at one time or another. Each had stories to share about their adventures.
Whether they proved class clown or valedictorian mattered not an ounce to Gran.
She loved each and every one of them with every fiber of her being, just as
she’d spent a lifetime loving Jaylie. Memories of a school year spent with
Grandma Nan were sure to last a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tears welled in Jaylie’s eyes as
the events of the past forty-eight hours filtered through her mind. Exhaustion
and worry burrowed into her bones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I almost lost you, Grandma Nan,”
she whispered. Her only response was the tick of the clock on the wall over the
sink. She wished with all her heart that she could turn back its hands. She
might have arrived in time to shelter Gran from the fall. Then, instead of Gran
sleeping off the pain of her injury while Jaylie fretted, they’d be sitting
here together, playing a board game and laughing over silly things. She
sniffled as tears spilled over to run down her cheeks. “And I couldn’t bear to
lose you. I need you, Gran. You’re all I’ve got.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How many times over the years had
Gran sheltered her from danger…from heartache and pain? More than she could
count. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie had come to live with Gran
the summer between her second and third grades of school. What was meant to be
merely a weeklong visit together while her mom went off on a honeymoon with her
third husband, stretched to two weeks and then an entire month. Before she knew
it, August rolled around without any sign of her mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When Jaylie finally asked, Gran
gently explained that her mother had gotten into a tight spot and she was going
to get some much-needed help to get back on her feet. It was years before
Jaylie realized that ‘tight spot’ included the new husband, prescription drugs,
and a very serious brush with the law.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Being separated from her only
living parent might have made other girls her age homesick, but not so much
Jaylie. Life with her mother had meant missed school days, spotty meals, soiled
clothes that never seemed to fit, and lots of lonely afternoons spent tiptoeing
around the rundown apartment they leased while mom holed up in her bed, nursing
a chronic headache. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But with Gran Jaylie experienced
warm hugs, loads of laughter, chicken and dumplings, and clothes that smelled
like sunshine. Best of all, Gran never cocooned herself in the bedroom, begging
a headache. Jaylie longed to stay with Gran forever. She’d told Gran as much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So as Gran set out to prepare her
classroom for the coming year, Jaylie tagged along. When the school bell
ushered in a new school year, Jaylie was issued a front row seat—right next to
Holt McCaffrey who lived in the sprawling house right next door to them. Jaylie
knew this because while riding the shiny new bike Gran had given her for her
birthday, she’d spied him in the yard, chasing his dog and playing fetch when
he returned from a summer-long trip out west with his parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d spent the entire year—a
magical year—catching the bus, sharing lunch snacks and trading notes with
Holt. She’d learned the meaning of friendship and discovered her first—and
only—true love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Blue-eyed Holt McCaffrey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie stayed the next year with
Gran, and the next. And every one that followed. Gran gave her more than money
could ever buy. Jaylie felt wanted…and loved. Gran was never too busy to help
her to bake chocolate chunk cookies or listen to her school day adventures.
They’d even performed together in the mother-daughter talent show Jaylie’s
eighth grade year. The crowd had issued a standing ovation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As high school graduation loomed,
Jaylie had confided to Gran her feelings for Holt. Gran had listened with a
twinkle in her eye and a grin on her lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“God works in mysterious ways,”
Gran had assured her with a tone of confidence Jaylie wished she also felt.
“You’ll see, Jaylie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Wasn’t that the truth! Less than
a month later Gran had dried Jaylie’s tears when Holt asked Megan Daniels to
senior Prom instead of her. Not that Jaylie could blame him for that. Megan was
a petite brunette bundle of TNT and the cheerleading captain. And, as the only
daughter of the most successful real estate agent in Clover Cove, she owned a
closet full of designer clothes. She zipped around town in a cherry-red ragtop
Miata—a far cry from Jaylie’s department store wardrobe and the used sedan she
shared with Gran.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It didn’t help matters when Megan
confided an unsettling secret to Jaylie just a few weeks later, implicating
Holt in her misadventures. The unexpected news broke Jaylie’s heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She couldn’t even consider the
details now and forced all thought of that fateful day from her mind. There was
no going back, no undoing what was done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Instead of dwelling on what
couldn’t be changed, Jaylie had embraced the opportunity to put distance
between her and Holt. High school graduation came and went. She’d packed her
suitcase and moved halfway across the state to study journalism. Four years
later, bachelor degree in hand, she’d snagged a job as a reporter with the
Windy City’s Channel Eight News.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Since then she’d been woefully
lax on her visits to Gran. Her studies had left little free time and the move
to Chicago made day travel impossible. She learned early on that vacation days
proved few and far between for an inexperienced college graduate trying to
stake her place in the media world. Over the course of six years she’d worked her
tail off. She’d climbed the ranks of the fickle news industry in record time,
clawing her way to the coveted position as evening news anchor. Life had been a
dream come true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Except for missing Holt and
wishing…always wishing for something more in that arena, though she knew it
could never be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then a few months ago the station
was bought out and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wham</i>, the hard-won
position was snatched from her. It mattered not one iota that she had more
talent and experience in her pinky finger than the new GM’s niece, who had
happily—and with a haughty dose of arrogance—slipped into Jaylie’s seat at the
anchor desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jaylie had seethed over this turn
of events. She’d buried herself in a dark pit and covered the hole with
self-pity. She’d finally crawled from the trench to phone Gran and share her
disappointment. Together, they’d decided her best option was to come home to
the cove and hash things out. Jaylie had felt a surge of optimism. Gran always
knew just how to tackle even the toughest problem and come out on top. Jaylie
had actually been packed and ready to head this way when the call about Gran’s
fall had come through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You need
to come home right away, Jaylie.” </span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Holt’s voice, steeped with
concern that had her nerves standing at attention, drifted through her ears. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Nan’s had an accident. I’m not sure if
she’ll be…I mean, I don’t know how bad it is.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Emotions churned through Jaylie.
Worry over Gran blended with the most subtle hint of delight over speaking to
Holt again after so many years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">God works
in mysterious ways…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Zeke sauntered into the room. He
padded over to Jaylie, sniffed the tile, and plopped down at her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“There’s my good boy.” Jaylie
swiped tears from her cheeks and extended a hand to offer him a soothing stroke
along his flank. “You’re my hero, baby. You summoned help for Gran. I owe you
bigtime. I’ll never forget that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A low-pitched rumble bubbled up
from Zeke’s throat. He pressed his grizzled snout to Jaylie’s knee as if he
understood the depths of her appreciation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, you’re a good boy,” she
cooed. “The best.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The sound of a motor drew
Jaylie’s attention through the broad bay window that flanked the breakfast
nook. Zeke’s ears perked as he rose on all fours. He lumbered to the window and
propped his front paws along the ledge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A police cruiser wound its way up
the drive. Impeccably-waxed paint along the front hood glinted beneath the
mid-May sun. The driver’s eyes were shielded by a pair of reflective sunglasses
but Jaylie would recognize the strong curve of that chiseled jaw anywhere, even
after all this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Holt McCaffrey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He pulled beneath the shade of
Gran’s beloved century-old elm tree and killed the motor. A breeze rustled
through the leaves as he leaned back in the seat and rested behind the wheel,
probably debating whether or not to come inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">That in itself brought a
whole new level of heartache.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">~~~~~</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>Thanks for visiting! I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into Moonlight Kisses. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy. Winner will be announced Monday, July 31.</em></span></h3>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-72075421786293015052017-07-10T09:23:00.000-05:002017-07-10T09:23:01.091-05:00Week #29: Picnics and Promises (Six Delicious Summer Romances)<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="960" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmagGvVoZOnrjDkoAW4V-0mbj7LHrlia_uE4rUf8-Aye-61uCwln3pWhyphenhyphenBgGdefLikkLfejbFJa1rw0Hw5Hs9awUf3u77cvuDduhglJPLJY-Nms3fQE7HVZ2otEFxg8w9QqeqQgQTrYvMK/s320/Picnics+and+Promises+collection.jpg" width="320" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073T4VR9G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1499695263&sr=8-1&keywords=Picnics+and+Promises" target="_blank">Picnics and Promises (Six Delicious Summer Romances)</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">MOOSED OPPORTUNITIES—JAN ELDER<br />Rev. Samantha Evans loves Moose Creek, Maine, the land of moose and men, particularly her fiancé Eric Palmer. Forest ranger, Eric, strives to plan their wedding, but Samantha’s busy schedule, his interfering ex-wife, missing college students, and a pregnant moose, all conspire against him. Will their lives continue to be a series of Moosed Opportunities?<br /><br />ZARA’S FOLLY—CLARE REVELL<br />British equestrian, Zara Michaels, heads south to convince TJ Greggson to sell his property to her developer father. Any way she can. TJ co-owns the stables, catering to disabled children—his life’s purpose. His brother wants to sell. TJ doesn’t. Can TJ help untangle Zara from her past follies, or will their secrets destroy them both?<br /><br />A POCKETFUL OF WISHES—MARY MANNERS<br />As childhood neighbors, Jenna Palmer and Carter Stevens discover first love. When a cross-country job transfer separates them, they promise to one day find each other. Years go by and they lose touch until an accident causes their paths to once again cross. Can their promise stand the test of time, or will time crush their promise…and their love?<br /><br />SWEET DELIGHTS—CECELIA DOWDY<br />Patty-Lynn is stunned when she runs into her wealthy ex-boyfriend, Sam. She’s still haunted by their painful breakup seven years ago. Recently widowed, Sam now wants to fix their broken relationship. Seeing Patty-Lynn, happy in her bakery, gives him hope. Can her prize-winning pie recipe sweeten his new business venture and heal their broken hearts?<br /><br />IMPERFECTLY PROVERBS 31—AUTUMN MACARTHUR<br /><br />The last thing geeky Samantha Rose planned for was the homemaking blog only her sister was ever supposed to see going viral. After a disastrous picnic, Daniel Novak, the cynical reporter dispatched to interview her, insists he must reveal the truth. But that could ruin everything, including their budding love.<br /><br />A COURTSHIP FOR CLOVER—MARION UECKERMANN<br /><br />Clover Blume’s chance of getting to know the groomsman escorting her to her sister’s wedding is threatened when he’s delayed. Jonathan Spalding’s money hasn’t managed to buy him one thing: a woman to love. Is the auburn-haired beauty partnering with him at his best friend’s wedding finding a way into his heart? What will it cost Jonathan to realize it profits him nothing to gain the world, yet lose his soul? And the girl.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">~~~~~</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">1st Chapter: A POCKETFUL OF WISHES:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">SUNLIGHT
FILTERED THROUGH THE WILLOWY branches of elm trees that lined the road, warming
Jenna as Carter loaded her suitcase into the trunk of the car. The street was
quiet, almost as if it had gone down for a nap, with the exception of Old Man
Corker’s Bassett Hound who yowled in protest of his confinement to the yard
three houses down.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
felt like yowling, too. Maybe she’d trod over to Old Man Corker’s yard, throw
herself into the grass beside Buster, and sob until no more tears came.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sadness
gripped her heart. She could barely breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Life
as she knew it was going to end right here in the driveway of the modest ranch
home she’d lived in since the day she was born. Literally, her mom had given
birth to her right there in the living room, when Jenna decided to come into
the world too quickly for her mom and dad to make it to the hospital. She’d
heard the story so many times she knew it by heart, and her parents joked that
she still had only one speed—fast.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Everything
she’d ever known in her whole life was in this house, yet her parents were
still bent on taking her from it. The moving truck that had left before the sun
peeked over the horizon was proof. And the jam-packed car didn’t help matters,
either. There was hardly room in the backseat for her to squeeze in when the
time came.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Which
would be soon…way too soon. She winced at the pinch of disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe
she could stay behind. She was thirteen now—almost fourteen—and old enough to
take care of herself, right? She’d stay in the house, make her own meals and
get herself to school when summer came to an end. Maybe she couldn’t drive
herself yet, but she had her bike and the bus also stopped by every morning, in
case of rain. She could make it work, couldn’t she?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Except
for the fact that the house had already sold. She and her parents had to be out
today, because the closing was over and the new people planned to move in that
evening. By nightfall Jenna would no longer be in Tennessee. Worse, she
wouldn’t live right next door to Carter anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Did
that mean they couldn’t still be best friends?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her
breath hitched once more. Jenna couldn’t imagine ever laughing again as she
romped along the water’s edge to find the best swimming hole in Maple Ridge or
raced through a field of tall grass with the wind at her back and a kiss of
sunlight tickling her cheeks. Not without Carter at her side to share in her
adventures. Not while he remained here in Maple Ridge while her family
relocated clear across the country to Leavenworth, Washington—exactly two
thousand, four hundred and eighty-one miles away. She’d studied the map Dad had
given her, and had memorized every nuance of the route. So she knew. And it was
awful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;">Leavenworth.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It
sounded like one of the bad words Mom and Dad forbade her to use. How ironic
that this new town her parents were determined to drag her to shared the same
name as a prison. Because Jenna might as well be going to prison. Her parents
were ruining her life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Especially
her dad, with his new job. That’s all he’d talked about for weeks now. He
didn’t even have time to talk about school anymore, or come to her softball
games.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When
she was still playing softball. Which she couldn’t do anymore, because they
were moving to Leavenworth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Just
for spite she rolled the word around on her tongue and muttered. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Leavenworth…Leavenworth…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tears
welled in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to find Carter. Dark, shaggy hair
spilled over his forehead, highlighting the dusky pallor of his cheeks. In
another month his skin would glow bronze from hours spent in the sun while he
helped his dad with their lawn care business. He’d worked beside his father
since the summer he’d turned nine. He was fourteen now—nearly four months older
than Jenna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Carter
swiped the tumble of hair away, revealing eyes the color of rain-slicked river
rock—gray with specks of russet along the edges. She’d always loved his eyes.
They were one-of-a-kind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Carter
closed the trunk and turned to face her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Don’t
cry, Jen.” He grinned ruefully as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his
favorite pair of faded jeans. She knew they were his favorite because he’d told
her last week while they were eating sundaes together down at Miller’s Ice
Cream Parlor following an afternoon of swimming at the community pool. Carter
had said the pants probably wouldn’t fit much longer, since he’d launched into
another growth spurt, but he’d make them last as long as he could. His folks
would be tight on money until the mowing season cranked up to its full stride
in a couple of weeks, maybe a month. “Everything’s going to be OK.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“How
can this ever be OK?” Jenna’s lower lip trembled and she caught it between her
teeth. “I might as well be moving to Mars.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It’s
not that bad. You’ll see.” He shrugged, trying his best to lighten the moment.
But his tone told her he was just as miserable. “You can write to me and fill
me in on all the fun places on your side of the country.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That
sounded forever apart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I
don’t think there are any fun places in Leavenworth.” How could there be, with
a name like that? Suddenly her belly roiled like it had last weekend, when
Carter jumped from the pool’s high dive and then dared her to do the same.
She’d climbed the ladder and inched out to the end of the board. Then a glimpse
down into the water had stars dancing in her line of vision as she suddenly
felt like she’d pass out. But Carter had gently coaxed her from the pool’s
edge, his voice low and raspy, making her believe she could do it. So she did
believe, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight and jumped. For a beat of time
the breath lodged in her throat, then her squeal could probably be heard into
the next county. The adrenaline rush was so cool that, following a
congratulatory fist bump from Carter, she went back five more times.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But
this whole idea of moving cross-country didn’t feel cool. It just felt…awful.
She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay right here, with Carter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Of
course there are fun places.” Carter’s eyes betrayed his words. Jenna had known
him since they were both in diapers, and right now his forehead was knitted into
a frown, his eyes stormy-dark. “You’ll find them. Then you’ll write and tell me
all about them.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Like
pen pals?” She placed a hand on his forearm. His skin warmed her chilled
fingers. “Sort of like passing notes in class except we have to send them through
the mail instead?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They’d
done a lot of note passing over the years without getting caught. They were
both good at it. Really good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Yes,
like that, only better because we’re already…” He glanced down at her hand
resting easily on his arm and offered a sort of lopsided grin. “Best
friends…and even maybe more.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“More?”
Jenna’s pulse did the same weird sort of leapfrog against her throat as it had
when Carter asked her to dance the last slow song at their end-of-school dance.
“Do you really think so?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Um…yeah,
I do.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Me,
too.” Jenna’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Will you write back?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“You
know I will, Jen.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Carter
drew his hands from his pockets and fidgeted for a moment, as if he wasn’t
quite sure what to do with them. A mockingbird ran through its litany of calls
as he took a step closer to her and skimmed his thumb ever-so-gently over her
cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
closed her eyes and sighed. This was one of his gestures she loved. Her insides
dipped and scrambled as if she’d just plunged over the first huge crest of the
Screaming Banshee coaster that she and Carter had ridden together at last
year’s Labor Day fair. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I
don’t want to go,” she murmured on a sob as she opened her eyes again to focus
on him. “I really don’t.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I
know.” His lips trembled. “I don’t want you to, either. I’m going to miss you
so much, Jen.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“This
can’t be happening.” Jenna gulped back the lump in her throat as tears spilled
over to trail down her cheeks. “Tell me it’s just a bad dream, Carter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I
can’t.” The words were anguished now. His voice cracked, as Jenna knew it
tended to when he got upset. “I can’t because it’s more real than a heart
attack.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As
if to prove the truth in that, Jenna’s parents shuffled from the house. Mom had
a tote bag, stuffed full of magazines and knitting supplies, slung over one
shoulder. Dad carried a pair of overnight bags. Unlike Jenna, they were both
prepared for the journey ahead. It would take six days by car to travel from
Maple Ridge to Leavenworth, considering the list of sightseeing detours Dad had
tacked onto the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Six
days…a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her
parents came down the short flight of steps and, instead of heading straight
for the car, went to the side of the house. They disappeared around the corner
to check on something. Their voices drifted on the breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
swiped at her tears. She had only a few minutes more with Carter. She could
hardly bear the thought. Time sped up just as she wished it would come to a
screeching halt. She was in a race car with no steering wheel, no emergency
brake. The end of the track rushed up to greet her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Why
had her dad agreed to take the Chief of Police position in Leavenworth? Wasn’t
the sergeant’s position in Maple Ridge good enough for him? She’d heard her
parents whispering heatedly to each other behind the closed door of his office
and knew there had to be some explanation, but as usual she stood firmly in the
dark. Was it too late for Dad to change his mind and let them remain here,
where everything was perfect, happy…familiar?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With
Carter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
had begged and pleaded with her parents, but to no avail. The decision was
final. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They
were leaving. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today.
In a few minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Don’t
forget me.” Jenna lifted her gaze to capture Carter’s and held tight as his
face swam before her. “It’s going to be hard enough not seeing you every day. I
couldn’t bear not talking to you, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I
won’t ever forget you, Jenna. We’ll see each other again. I promise.” His eyes
filled too, and his chest heaved as he struggled with his emotions. “I’ll wait
for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Write
to me.” She swiped tears from her cheeks. “Every day.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“And
twice on Sunday.” He cupped her elbows and leaned in close. Sunlight cocooned
them as a gentle breeze ruffled Jenna’s hair. His T-shirt held the scent of
summer mingled with citrus from the dryer sheets his mom used. “Every Sunday.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Carter
dipped his head, his gaze suddenly softening. His fingers trembled along the
nape of her neck as his breath skimmed her cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna’s
pulse galloped as the universe shifted. Carter was going to kiss her. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They’d
never kissed, never even really held hands except for the slow dance a few
weeks ago. Or when he helped her navigate slick rocks to cross a shallow
section of the river.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And
there was the time they rode the Screaming Banshee together. Then he’d laced
his fingers with hers and held tight. In that moment Jenna felt as if she could
conquer the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She
wanted to kiss Carter…had wanted to for the longest time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She
sensed he wanted to kiss her as much. He shifted slightly and his lips settled
ever-so-lightly along her cheek, grazing the spot where his thumb had wandered
only moments ago. His touch was so gentle and tender, that no words were needed
to communicate all he felt…mirroring all she wished for.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A
moment or two passed as Jenna held her breath. She tilted her chin and his lips
skimmed lower to find hers. As his mouth melded to hers, the softest gasp
billowed up from deep inside her. Her heart paused and then quickly
recalibrated, turning everything bright and new as the sun burst into a million
points of light. As he held her close she inhaled the blend of summer sunshine
and fresh-mown grass on Carter’s skin. She bottled the scents that would
forever brand him into her memory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Carter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She
would experience only a single first kiss in her lifetime, and now that kiss
belonged to Carter. No length of time or distance could ever take it away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Forever sealed. Forever
ours…together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her
parents’ voices, drawing closer now, carried on the breeze to shatter the
tender moment. She turned and spied them heading back around the corner. Reluctantly,
she pressed a hand to Carter’s chest. As he stepped back, putting distance
between them, an arctic blast sliced through Jenna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Jenna,
it’s time to go,” her mother called. “Say your final goodbyes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
shivered as another chill swept in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Final…this is final.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“No,
it’s not.” Carter had developed a knack over the years for sensing what she was
thinking. Being next-door neighbors since birth did have its advantages. “This
isn’t final. I’ll find you, Jenna, no matter how far away your parents take
you. I promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I’ll
find you, too.” She nodded stiffly. “I will.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“That
should be easy, since I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’ll be right here.”
Carter delved a hand into his pocket to retrieve something. He pressed the
small, cool object into the palm of her hand. “Take this. Keep it close and
I’ll always be with you. Always, Jenna.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
closed her fingers over his gift as a wave of sadness chased away all of the
light. She couldn’t bear to look at what he’d given her. She turned away, sobs
suddenly taking over as Carter held open the car door for her and she slipped
into the backseat. A moment later the door closed and the engine roared to
life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As
Dad steered the car away from the curb Jenna turned and knelt in the seat.
Through the rear window, she kept her gaze glued to Carter. She’d never forget
the vision of him standing alone at the edge of the sidewalk haloed by
sunlight. He’d jammed his hands into his pockets and tried his best to smile,
but looked as miserable and lost as she felt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jenna
folded her arms and rested her chin on them as her chest heaved. She struggled
to breathe through her tears while her mind screamed what she’d failed to form
into words.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> Goodbye,
Carter. I’ll love you forever.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">~~~~~</span></i></span></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>Thanks for visiting. </em></span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy of Picnics and Promises. Winner will be announced Monday, July 17.</em></span></h4>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-28830342156906667422017-07-10T00:00:00.000-05:002017-07-10T00:00:06.015-05:00Week #28: Showered by Love by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKgMsRbMoB3uF9idkMxdhuvILXuGnShvXcMX-5f3q9hcunisLS_-anmvBgKYJvaysKym7z8Xiy3mA-zU2C2Q-dPgJSO_z5ggj-52a5609sVEpl-9hHnUarA_5DtuQD7-IfkhRKR7SPWz_/s1600/Showered+by+Love+%2528%25234%2529+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1058" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKgMsRbMoB3uF9idkMxdhuvILXuGnShvXcMX-5f3q9hcunisLS_-anmvBgKYJvaysKym7z8Xiy3mA-zU2C2Q-dPgJSO_z5ggj-52a5609sVEpl-9hHnUarA_5DtuQD7-IfkhRKR7SPWz_/s320/Showered+by+Love+%2528%25234%2529+LJPG.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Showered-Love-Honeysuckle-Cove-Book-ebook/dp/B06XSPQZTG/ref=pd_sim_351_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=6RKS3XJ9T374QHA7B3MK" target="_blank">Showered by Love</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Jessica Marlin comes to Honeysuckle Cove carrying a
secret–she’s pregnant. Shamed by her indiscretion and the circumstances of a
former way of life, she’s determined to make a home for her child in the quaint
community—even if it means going it alone forever. But when her secret becomes
too big to keep, she fears she’ll be forced to abandon her new role as kitchen
manager at Honeysuckle Cove Inn. Will friendship—and God’s grace—prevail, or
will Jessica be forced to uproot and move on once again?<br />
<br />
Rogan Brooks has convinced both himself and his hometown of Honeysuckle Cove
that he’ll never settle down long enough to embrace marriage, let alone
fatherhood…until he sees the glow of pregnancy, along with the promise of a
future, radiate from Jessica Marlin’s eyes. Can Rogan assure Jessica that his
heart is true and he’s committed to being a daddy—complete with a happily ever
after—for keeps?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">~~~~~</span></div>
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<o:p><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jessica Marlin hummed along to the radio as she
whipped a pair of egg whites into a bowl of angel food cake batter. Now that
she was in charge of food prep for Honeysuckle Cove Inn, she planned to add the
sweet, airy confection to the dinner dessert menu. Topped with a handful of
plump, wild blackberries that grew along the pathway at the inn’s rear garden
as well as a generous dollop of whipped cream, the confection was sure to
please even the most discerning patron.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jessica had arrived in Honeysuckle Cove only
yesterday to claim her position as head chef—which was actually more akin to
chief cook and bottle washer—of quaint and cozy historic Honeysuckle Cove Inn.
The move made her feel alive again, as if she breathed fresh air for the first
time in months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d returned home. For real. For good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d traveled a rough road to circle back ’round
to the cove. Kurt had been gone nearly five months now, but bittersweet
memories remained. She’d been convinced, despite all of the warning signs that
said otherwise, that once they scaled a few hurdles his love for her would
prove genuine and lasting. She’d been so sure of it. But his words at the end,
just before the car accident stole his final breath, had cut through her heart
like a rusty knife. Now all she had to show for the pair of years they’d spent
together was the ridiculously-oversized diamond he’d insisted she wear—one that
had constantly snagged on packages and utensils as she’d tried to prepare
exquisitely garnished meals at the prestigious Chicago restaurant where they’d
worked together. She’d finally, against Kurt’s demands, removed the cumbersome
rock and tucked it into her jewelry box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s
not all you have, Jess. Shake it off…time to look forward, not back.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She swallowed hard and pressed a palm to her
belly, letting it rest there for a moment or two before she turned her
attention back to the mixing bowl. She whisked the batter, letting the action
carry away a thrum of hurt. The past was done. There was no turning back. The
future waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh. My. Goodness.” Maggie O’Connor, owner and
proprietor of the inn along with her husband, Dylan, strode into the kitchen.
Her vibrant strawberry blonde hair bounced in a flurry of curls as she made a
beeline to the cook island. Green eyes widened with delight as she peeked into
the mixing bowl. “Whatever you’re whipping up, I want some. It smells like a
slice of heaven.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m experimenting with a couple of recipes. The
chocolate chip scones are ready. They’re cooling on the counter over there.”
Jessica nodded and pointed with her elbow. “If you like them, I thought we’d
serve a batch for breakfast tomorrow. I also threw together a platter of petit
fours for the afternoon tea. They’re in the fridge. And this here is a batch of
Grandma Sue’s angel food cake recipe that I plan to serve tonight as a special
after-dinner treat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, then I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i>
found heaven. It’s a proven fact that no one baked as well as your Grandma
Sue—until you.” Maggie snatched a scone from the cooling rack and chanced a
nibble. She closed her eyes on a sigh. “Oh, wow. This is definitely a yes for
breakfast…or anytime. Yummy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thanks.” Jessica smiled…the first genuine smile
that had touched her lips in weeks. From the first time she’d stepped into the
inn as a child, when Maggie invited her to a sleepover the summer between sixth
and seventh grades, she had always enjoyed the homey, welcoming feel of the
inn. The two had remained close friends over the years…at least until they’d
both gone their separate ways following high school graduation. The distance
had caused them to lose touch for a few years but thankfully, they’d just
recently reconnected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She and Maggie had decided to serve family-style
evening meals for the inn’s guests instead of cooking ala carte, extending that
feeling to the dining area. It was up to Jess to finalize each day’s menu, and
she was already having fun experimenting with all the hearty options.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wait until you taste the roast and baby potatoes
that I tossed together and slipped into the oven.” She motioned with the whisk.
“The mushroom gravy is a top-secret recipe and definitely to die for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ugh.” Maggie splayed a hand along her midsection.
“I can already feel the waistband of my slacks constricting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The comment brought reality crashing down.
Jessica’s slacks snugged tight as well, but not for the same reasons as Maggie’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ready or
not, you’re going to have a baby, Jess. Motherhood looms. Are you going to be
able to handle all of your responsibilities for the inn </span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> a baby?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The words niggled. When Maggie had called with the
offer of a job, Jessica had had no idea what events the coming days would
bring. As far as she knew, the run-down feeling that dogged her was a direct
result of the aftermath of her blow-up with Kurt and, on the heels of that, his
unexpected death. The pair of events had taken the wind from her sails and
plagued her with flu-like symptoms that she couldn’t seem to shake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So she’d trekked to the doctor in search of
antibiotics, and had instead received the shock of her life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She was pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thankfully, the nausea had passed. But that merely
meant her due date closed in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m so sorry, Maggie.” Jess frowned, remembering
how she’d broken the news to Maggie soon after leaving the doctor’s office. “I
would have told you about my…my situation sooner if I’d known. If you want to
find a replacement chef, I completely understand. I’ll just pack up—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hold it right there.” Maggie turned to face her
with flashing green eyes. “Not another word about replacing you. That’s
nonsense. This job is yours, Jess, and it will remain yours for as long as
you’d like. When the baby comes, we’ll all pitch in and work it out. It’s the
way we do things around here. No one gets left behind. Dylan and I are here for
you, and Cameron’s happy to roll up his sleeves, as well. You’re not alone in
this. The inn is your home now, for as long as you want to stay. End of
discussion…end of story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Or just the beginning, Jess thought. A wonderful,
bright beginning. If nothing messed it up. But something always managed to find
a way. She forced the thought aside. Not here…not now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jessica fought back tears as she continued to work
the whisk. Things felt so perfect here in the cove that it was hard to imagine
she’d ever fought so hard to escape the close-knit town. Maggie and Dylan’s
tireless renovations had renewed the inn to its original beauty and then some.
Jess’s room right off the kitchen welcomed with bright and cheerful décor. She
smiled as she thought of waking that morning to sunshine dancing over a
sprawling bed of wave petunias and whimsical honeysuckle bushes coming into
bloom. The scent had drifted through an open window, bringing a sense of
contentment and a feeling of belonging that she hadn’t felt in months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How fortunate she was to have a friend like
Maggie. Her phone call had bridged the time and distance gaps, reminding Jess
she was someone to be counted on when times were smooth as well as when the
road proved rough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Like now. Jessica splayed her free hand
protectively over her belly. How was it possible to be gripped by doubt while
also feeling such a sense of peace? A gentle warmth coursed through her as she
thought of the life growing inside her. Life might have dealt her a
disheartening blow, but nothing would stand between her and her baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m so happy to be here.” Jess dropped the whisk
and wiped her hands on her apron as she took a step toward Maggie. “Coming home
again was meant to be. It’s simply perfect…a dream come true.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, Jess.” Maggie threw her arms around Jessica
and squeezed hard. “I’m happy, too. I’ve missed you so. Honeysuckle Cove is
where you belong…where you’ve always belonged. It just took you a while to
figure it out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know that now, but I definitely traveled the
long road back. Just call me stubborn and hardheaded.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, if the shoe fits…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They both laughed, because it was true. Jessica’s
stubborn streak was known far and wide throughout the cove. It had ramped up in
the years following her parents’ divorce when her mother took off, causing Jess
and her father to lock horns continually during her high school years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Except now Jessica’s laughter sounded hollow in
her ears. This particular lesson had brought her life full circle. Where would
she go from here and what did it all mean? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Coffee?” Maggie asked, reaching into the cabinet
beside the deep, double-basin sink for a pair of mugs and then for the carafe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Decaf if you have it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course.” Maggie quirked an eyebrow. “Nothing
but the best for your little guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Or girl.” The baby was going to be a girl.
Jessica couldn’t explain the feeling of simply knowing, but she felt so sure.
She’d know for certain in a few weeks, when she went for an ultrasound. She’d
made an appointment with Doc Hutchins, who’d delivered just about every baby
born in the cove over the past three decades.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jessica sipped the coffee Maggie poured as she
peered out the window overlooking the vast expanse of deck and the gardens
beyond. Dylan had been hard at work all morning laying a stone walkway with the
help of his nephew Cameron and another guy. The mystery man’s long limbs were
clad in faded denim, and the shirt pulled taut across a terrain of muscles said
he was no stranger to hard work. Something about the curve of his jaw and the
way he moved with an easy, graceful ease seemed vaguely familiar. But he stood
too far into the distance and shielded by a century-old willow for a clear
view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Who’s that?” Jess strained for a better look, but
a tousle of chocolate-colored hair hid his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie peered over the rim of her coffee mug. “You
don’t recognize him?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“There’s something...” Jessica leaned toward the
window and squinted into the sunshine. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Should I recognize him?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course. We all went through school together.”
Maggie gave her a knowing look. “Third period lunch, Saturday night bonfires on
the hill overlooking Wanderlust Lake, mad scientist moves…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Rogan Brooks…from chemistry class?” Jessica tried
to wrap her brain around the thought. “Rogan, who built a greenhouse from
scratch for his mom for his senior honors project, and then nearly blew up the
high school lab in his quest to concoct a fast-acting recipe for plant food?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep. Uh huh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The same Rogan who earned me a three day
suspension because I had this misfortune of pairing up with him as a lab
partner on the day he pranked Miss Gilliam by letting one of the lab rats run
lose in her desk drawer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
Rogan. And even though Miss Gilliam had it in for him back then, I don’t think
placing the rat in her desk was great idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What clued you in? The fact that she screeched
like a banshee when it burrowed beneath her sleeve and crawled up her arm, or
the wail of an ambulance as it arrived to transport her to the hospital for
x-rays because she cracked her skull on the corner of her desk when she passed
out cold?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, then there’s that. But I suppose the plant
food recipe paid off, despite the damage to the lab. Rogan owns his own
landscaping company now—Rare Earth Designs.” Maggie gestured toward a van
parked at the side drive, emblazoned with the company logo. “And he’s filled
out nicely, hasn’t he?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll say.” Mud-splattered jeans and a mucky—was
it once pale green—T-shirt merely served to enhance his looks. Eyes the color
of rich, dark soil were framed by generous waves of hair. Jess imagined a
spatter of stubble accentuated his jawline. “What happened to those horn-rimmed
glasses he used to wear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, he retired those from everyday use years ago
when he had eye surgery. I think he still dons a pair sometimes when he drives,
though.” Maggie chuckled and then added, “And, despite the best efforts of all
the bachelorettes around the cove, he’s still single.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, no surprise there.” Jessica’s belly gave an
odd little flutter. Was it a touch of nervous anticipation…or the baby kicking?
“He always said he’d never marry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And I said I would never return to Honeysuckle Cove
for anything more than a quick visit, let alone manage this inn. But now I
cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone besides Dylan. I love the idea of
returning the inn to its original beauty as we build our future together here
in the cove.” She pursed her lips on a sigh. “People change, Jess.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“My life has certainly taken its fair share of
unexpected detours.” Jessica’s laugh rang high-pitched and just a bit shaky.
“So I’m not looking for any more surprises—especially if Rogan Brooks is
involved.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sometimes even when you’re not looking, those
surprises have a way of finding you and latching tight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Regardless, I’m not interested in rekindling
anything with Rogan…not that there were any sparks to begin with.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s not what you said when we were in high
school.” Maggie waggled a finger. “You were over the moon for him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And all he ever did was get me into trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“So, he was a little bit rowdy and sort of shy.”
She eyed Jess over the rim of her coffee mug. “I think he’s gotten over both of
those traits.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s a moot point. High school was a long time
ago…another lifetime.” She shook her head, refusing to allow her gaze to drift
toward Rogan again. “And even if I still harbored an interest in him—which I’m
not saying I do—Rogan’s sure to sprint away as if his life depends on it when
he learns I’m expecting another man’s child. I told you, he said he’d never get
married and that he’d only have kids if and when that unmentionable, vast depth
below our feet freezes over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“In that case, I’m feeling a little chill.” Maggie
glanced down at her wedding band with a wistful smile. A soft breeze carried
the fragrant scent of honeysuckle through the open window over the sink. “Never
say never around here, Jess. Take it from me…wonderful, unexpected things have
been known to happen to those who venture along the grounds of Honeysuckle Cove
Inn.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p>~~~~~</o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<em>
Thanks for visiting! I hope you've enjoyed this visit to Honeysuckle Cove. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy of Showered by Love. Winner will be announced Monday, July 17.</em></h3>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-71815068896619637242017-07-03T00:00:00.000-05:002017-07-03T00:00:21.750-05:00Week #27: Honeysuckle Cove Secrets by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip5mO_N4WDipt0gkLx2P1HJncufEAcUxRcLuQgkNpIQRDmTQj5tUZzDdq8WYNBDPdji8sSEBlpNhmO2v0G0t-igUThsN1XKONdn2X3rLh3WY-b8LC8Tat_uxO-WiqrfHE1QgvW4GXCix9c/s1600/Honeysuckle+Cove+Secrets+%2528%25233%2529+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip5mO_N4WDipt0gkLx2P1HJncufEAcUxRcLuQgkNpIQRDmTQj5tUZzDdq8WYNBDPdji8sSEBlpNhmO2v0G0t-igUThsN1XKONdn2X3rLh3WY-b8LC8Tat_uxO-WiqrfHE1QgvW4GXCix9c/s320/Honeysuckle+Cove+Secrets+%2528%25233%2529+LJPG.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Cove-Secrets-Mary-Manners-ebook/dp/B06XBVZZDS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1497907818&sr=8-1&keywords=Honeysuckle+Cove+Secrets" target="_blank">Honeysuckle Cove Secrets</a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Peyton
Foster harbors a secret…from the day he first stepped into her life she’s loved
Luke Maddox. Though she thought they’d developed a lasting friendship, events
surrounding her mother’s death chased him away. It’s all for the best, since
Peyton’s passion as proprietor of A Whisper in Time proves the perfect
complement to her shyness—a much better fit than her former misguided
schoolgirl attraction to Luke. <br />
<br />
Luke Maddox feels a connection with Peyton Foster from the first moment their
paths cross. But when he settles in Honeysuckle Cove, a past riddled by years
traversing the foster care system leaves him longing to fit in, leading him to
take part in a foolish school dare that costs him Peyton’s friendship. Haunted
by the mistake, he searches for a way to mend the past and find a way back to
Peyton’s heart. When a break-in at A Whisper in Time causes their paths to once
again cross, Luke must make a choice—bare his heart and face the consequences, or
allow the only woman he’s ever loved to slip away.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">~~~~~</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">1<sup>st</sup> Chapter:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton Foster nibbled a
fingernail as the tile floor came into focus through a wash of tears. Her shop
lay in ruins. One glimpse of the destruction caused her nerves to vibrate like
the low hum of morning rush hour traffic along the boulevard. A Whisper in Time
was her baby, a livelihood rooted in whimsical dreams that she’d nurtured to
one of the most respected small businesses in Honeysuckle Cove. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Countless hours spent at her
grandmother’s knee drinking in rich, fanciful lore of the cove had encouraged
Peyton’s childhood dreams to take wings and fly. Now the brownstone shop she’d
rescued nearly half-a-decade ago from the jaws of demolition had been horribly
breached during the overnight hours. Treasures she’d tirelessly accumulated lay
scattered and strewn across the floor like Humpty Dumpty after his fall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Is anything missing?” Luke asked
in a tone as soothing as warm chocolate. He eased in beside her and raked a
hand across his jaw, where a shadow of stubble brought out the depth of chiseled
cheekbones. Together, they surveyed the damage. “I know it’s a mess, but can
you tell if anything was taken?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton struggled to focus on the
task at hand as her gaze lifted to Luke’s eyes. Usually wooly-gray as a blanket
of daybreak mist that billowed over Wanderlust Lake, this morning the color
shone glimmering onyx. The subtle change often proved the case when his temper
flared. Today that temper was elicited by an early-morning phone call that had
him sprinting to find her ankle-deep in shattered glass from the shop’s smashed
front door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He hadn’t hesitated to help so
much as a moment. The thought wove a ribbon of tenderness through Peyton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m not sure if anything’s been
taken.” Peyton knew every detail of the shop as if it were an appendage of her
body, but the extent of destruction made it difficult for her to wrap her brain
around the chaos. She’d designed and set up each of the dozen or so displays
for the spring season herself, and her memory served like an accounting
photograph. But right now the mental film was blank, her mind overrun with a
sense that her precious territory had been deeply violated. “The jewelry and
coin displays weren’t even touched, but whoever did this paid special attention
to the collection of music boxes, pawing through them as if searching for
something in particular.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah, I’d have to agree with
that. It’s odd…almost like they weren’t concerned about the monetary value, but
more as if they’d embarked on some kind of scavenger hunt.” Luke edged toward
the corner display table. A variety of music boxes lay like wounded soldiers
across the polished tabletop. One had been abandoned just inside the doorway,
and it lay atop splinters of glass as if it had been dropped there when the
looters fled. He bent to pick it up and, turning it over to check for damage,
found a small engraving along the bottom panel. He read the initials aloud.
“M.M.B…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm…that’s strange.”
Immediately, Peyton’s curiosity piqued. “I hadn’t noticed the engraving until
just now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Do you know what—or whom—the
letters stand for?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“No, I haven’t had time to
adequately research that piece. It’s merely on display for the time being, not
for purchase. I make it a policy not to add anything to the saleable inventory
without first fully investigating its origin.” Peyton had spent a great deal of
time admiring the curved shape with a pattern of delicately inlaid flowers
along the porcelain finish. The piece was the epitome of beauty…a real
treasure. “All I know for sure is that it’s dated pre-nineteen hundred.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s old.” Luke whistled
softly as he ran his callused finger along the mysterious initials. “I wonder
what sort of stories it would tell if it could talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The thought caused Peyton’s pulse
to skitter. If her grandmother were still alive, she’d most likely provide a
depth of insight. Grandma Carlene spent a great deal of time immersed in stacks
of books and news-clippings at the public library, volunteering as Honeysuckle
Cove’s honorary town historian. She’d passed much of her knowledge on to
Peyton, who loved to spend her free time steeped in history, dreaming of the
people who shared leading roles in Gran’s stories. The thought that Luke was
also intrigued by the past made the idea that much more appealing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gran’s memory lived on through the
shop, which had been initially leased following her death with funds she’d
willed to Peyton. Peyton felt a special connection to her within these walls,
as if Gran’s spirit was somehow delicately woven into the collection of pieces
gathered here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I wonder about such stories,
too.” Peyton reached for the porcelain box. Whoever it had originally been
purchased for so many years ago must have been very special. The delicate
trinket resonated romance. She sighed, wishing she’d one day be gifted
something equally lovely and romantic by a special someone who loved her. She
often wondered how she’d be remembered by future generations who chose to make
Honeysuckle Cove their home. With admiration and respect like Grandma Carlene,
or as a tad quirky and eccentric like the cove’s designated cat-lady, Mrs.
Steinweiler. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton turned the box over and
cranked a small brass lever tucked along the underside. When she righted it
once again and lifted the top to expose a delicate velvet compartment, the
light scent of honeysuckle drifted from the fabric to kiss her nose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The gears seem to be working OK
and I don’t see any chips or dings.” Luke peered over her shoulder. “And is
that perfume I smell…sweet and earthy, like a hint of flowers?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So the scent had found its way to
him. It wasn’t her imagination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It smells like honeysuckle.” To
Peyton’s great relief as the crank unwound soft music began to resonate from
the box. The whimsical song coupled with a honeyed floral scent brought back
memories of the mysteriously captivating Honeysuckle Cove Inn lore that Grandma
had shared with her on more than one occasion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Legend had it that Malachi
Brennan, the grand patriarch of the Brennan family as well as Maggie O’Connor’s
paternal great grandfather, had built the inn during the late 1800’s for his
new bride. According to Gran, Malachi disappeared one evening not long after
the newlyweds moved in, as a storm blew through the cove while he fished on the
lake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Gran had insisted his spirit
roamed the shores searching for a way back home. She was also convinced the
spirit of Malachi’s young bride, Mary Margaret, strolled the inn searching for
her beloved husband. The warm, fruity scent of honeysuckle proved her
signature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton pondered a question as she
slid a finger once again over the engraving. M.M.B….Mary Margaret Brennan…could
it be this music box had once belonged to her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s lovely.” She tore her
thoughts from the mystery as she turned back to Luke. “Mrs. Hollister brought
this in a few months ago along with a crate full of other trinkets. She said
she found it when she was cleaning her great aunt’s attic. She’d never seen it
before, as far as she could remember, and she’s not sure how it got there. She
asked me to do a little research to see what I could learn.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Guilt nagged. She’d been so busy
preparing for the Touch of Spring Small Business Expo on the Town Square that
had taken place over the weekend that she hadn’t given Mrs. Hollister’s request
much thought. She would have to rectify that immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Or as soon as police and insurance
reports were filed, the tile floors cleared of shattered glass, inventory
assessed, and the disrupted displays sorted and reassembled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To name just a few of the things
on today’s unexpected to-do list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Though the other trinket boxes
were tossed around, none of them have been knocked from the table.” Luke turned
a slow circle, drinking in the damage. “So, with any luck they should be OK.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I sure hope so.” Peyton set the
delicate music box back on the tabletop, her mind now reeling with questions
that went beyond the break-in. With great difficulty, she shook them off and
took a moment to right a few of the other trinkets before a wave of emotion
suddenly swept through. She choked back a sob and swiped at her eyes as the
full impact of this morning’s events clamped down and held tight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For a few long moments all she
heard was her own ragged breathing. Then glass crunched beneath Luke’s shoes as
he eased closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s going to be OK, Peyton.” He
draped a hand over her shoulder and squeezed lightly. His fingers were warm and
strong while his tone soothed the ache that gripped her heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, I know it will. It’s
just…this is a big setback. One I really don’t need right now. Not one little
bit.” She estimated the break-in wreaked havoc serious enough to close the shop
to customers for the better part of the day—perhaps even into tomorrow. Not
good at all, since heightened advertising and exposure from the business show
coupled with unseasonably warm weather had people strolling the sunny boulevard
and in the mood to shop. “And I was off to a really great month—the best one
yet. Actually operating in the black. So much for getting ahead.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll help you put things back in order and
make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Luke soothed with his eyes, making her feel
as if she was wrapped in a soft, downy blanket. “First things first—you need an
iron-clad security system, and I’m going to take care of that immediately.
Today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She was thankful he didn’t add ‘I
told you so’ since he had done just that on more than one occasion. She’d
failed to heed the warning, and now she was paying for her stubbornness in
spades.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I was hoping…” The words caught
on a sob. Her tears began to fall with a vengeance. She brushed them away
furiously as anger laced through like a thorny weed. She swallowed hard and
found her voice again. “Good grief, this is Honeysuckle Cove. We’ve never had a
crime issue. Maybe this was just some kids—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Regardless of who did this,
there’s no sense taking a chance on it happening again, Pey.” Luke’s hand
slipped down to splay across her lower back. He turned her toward him and drew
her in, offering the warmth of a gentle hug. “Like it or not, times are
changing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I really don’t want to believe
that.” She dipped her head and pressed her cheek against the corded muscles of
his chest, melting into him as he wrapped her up. “Other places might
experience such side effects as a result of community growing pains but not
here…not in the cove.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t fret, Peyton.” He placed a
kiss along the crown of her head. “Whatever may come, I’ve got you. Just hold
on tight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So she did just that. She fisted
her hands along the hem of his shirt and held on. She hadn’t felt this
off-kilter since middle school, when an anonymous note slipped into her locker
on the heels of her mother’s horrific death had her world rocking from the
height of Mt. Everest to the depths of the Mariana Trench. Her heart had been
shattered in much the same manner as the door glass at the shop entryway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Luke had begun his inexplicable
journey of avoidance that day, and after all these years she couldn’t say she
blamed him. She’d been a train wreck back then, a real mess in the weeks and
months after her mother was buried and she’d gone to live with Gran. The ugly
letter, deposited before her emotional wounds had time enough to scab over, had
only served to deepen her somber mood. Its horrid words still mocked on the
occasional sleepless night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You’re
going to end up like her…</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As the center of a spotlight in a
small town like Honeysuckle Cove, she’d felt like a circus side show—with
everyone but Luke. He was there for her as darkness descended, a genuine
comfort until the letter launched a sort of unspoken crevasse between them.
Though they’d begun to build what Peyton initially believed was a lasting friendship,
he’d quickly shunned her for his football buddies and the occasional, impromptu
Saturday night party along the shores of Wanderlust Lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He’d never asked her to join
him…not that she would have, given the chance. Her mother’s death brought unexpected
debts that were only compounded by her father’s subsequent emotional breakdown
and long-term inability to work. She had no savings, so her meticulous studies
and the valedictorian honors they garnered were all the hopes she had of making
it through college with a business degree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She didn’t have time for
frivolity. Instead, she’d do everything in her power to grow a future and a
legacy she could be proud of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I will
not end up like her. I will not…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She had plans to turn Gran’s
stories and her dreams into reality by opening her own antique shop. Nothing
would get in the way of that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Not even Luke Maddox.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton breathed in the scent of
him, a whisper of pine mingled with a hint of soap. He smelled like he’d just
stepped from the shower, and she heard his heart beating steady as the tick of
a clock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This was the Luke she’d grown to
love, even if that love remained well-hidden in her heart. He was a man she
could count on. A man of few words yet deep, unfathomable emotions. He knew how
to laugh…how to make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> laugh. And
she’d seen him cry, as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe she was becoming just a
little more carefree and playful than she used to be, and she had to admit the
change felt good. She’d learned to let go of the rigid routines that had given
her a sense of security in the midst of her chaotic teen years while also
casting her as somewhat of an outsider. Maybe that’s why Luke had turned away
and left her in the dust. Who wanted to hang out with a girl who found calm
reassurance in cataloging the history of her Honeysuckle Cove ancestors?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She thought of the anonymous
letter tucked into a hidden, zippered compartment of her purse. She’d saved it
all these years and took it out from time to time to remember the pain of the
heckling words. It served as a reminder of how far she’d come from the insecure
girl whose mother struggled so deeply with life that she’d finally taken her
own, leaving Peyton with nothing but memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It also proved a gauge of how far
she still had to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She relaxed against Luke and felt
the tension ease down a notch or two. His embrace felt so right, she wanted to
stay cocooned in it forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But she knew he was simply being
nice in rushing to help her this morning…nothing more. She might have felt an
unexplainable attraction to him since he showed up at Honeysuckle Cove Middle
School out of the blue on a mid-November day their eighth grade year, but he
obviously hadn’t returned the sentiment. Oh, she’d been a good enough friend
until the in-crowd scooped him up and welcomed him to their tight-knit circle.
From that point Peyton became yesterday’s news. And that hurt, it really
wounded. Because she could have used a special friend all those years ago, when
the sky crashed in on her world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe a touch of hope remained.
Without explanation, Luke began a few months ago to stop by the shop during his
lunch break and sometimes on his way home from work to make small talk. Often
he brought her favorite eclairs and flavored coffee from Perini’s Bakery down
the street, and they’d share dessert for lunch. Other days he presented her
with bouquets of wildflowers meant to brighten the reception desk. Only a week
ago, just as Peyton was closing up shop for the evening, he’d arrived with a
stack of old postcards he’d found on the shelf of a closet in the house he
rented. He’d asked her to join him for dinner and they’d walked down to
Minter’s Deli, where they’d spent the better part of the evening poring over
the cards’ delightfully scrawled messages.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Their distance across the years
began to melt away as their paths wound together once again. Each time Luke
came around—and it happened with greater and greater frequency—he seemed
genuinely glad to see her. Though she enjoyed the time they spent together,
Peyton couldn’t help but wonder…would it last?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Peyton reminded herself that Luke
wasn’t here today of his own accord. He’d come to the shop that morning because
she’d called him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And she’d called him because he
was the first person—even before the police or Mr. and Mrs. Constantine, who
owned the art gallery next door and treated her like a daughter—she’d thought
of when she’d arrived at A Whisper in Time to find the entrance door ajar, the
glass panes smashed and the showroom miserably ransacked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d dialed Luke because she
knew he would come. And she knew he could—and would—offer the help and comfort
she needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And she’d be fibbing if she
failed to acknowledge she was still secretly in love with him, just as she’d
been all through school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ugh…she’d thought such unrequited
love played out only in sappy romance novels. But in this case truth rang
stranger than fiction. She was certainly living, breathing proof.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Pathetic. It was time to move on.
If Luke had any inkling of returning her romantic feelings, he would have made
it known by now. Confidence was one thing Luke Maddox had quickly mastered as
he’d settled into life in the cove. And as much as she’d like to imagine it,
coffee breaks coupled with bakery sweets didn’t make for enduring love stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Luke shifted feet and Peyton felt
the scrape of fabric where the Maddox Security emblem was embroidered into his
navy polo shirt. She reminded herself again why he’d come. Luke owned a
security company—the most reputable in the greater Honeysuckle Cove region. He
was here to put in a fail-safe security system, one proven to ensure last
night’s break-in would be the first and last.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I guess we’d better get
started.” With tremendous difficulty, Peyton untangled herself from his arms.
Foot traffic along the boulevard had increased to a brisk pace. Soon her
neighbors would get wind of what had happened. There was no sense in adding to
town gossip by being spotted among the window display, swept up in Luke’s arms.
“Chief Burke said he’d stop by to take a report as soon as the morning’s school
traffic clears.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good.” Luke snagged a stray hair
from her tear-stained cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Concern tinted his
eyes. “If you’ll give me the insider’s tour of this place we can figure out
together the best type of system to suit your needs. How does that sound?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Perfect.” Peyton swallowed hard.
“Sounds great.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But it wasn’t great. All at once
she felt like an insecure schoolgirl all over again. Her love life was D.O.A.,
her antique shop rivaled the Wreck of the Hesperus, and the installation of a
security system—by Luke Maddox, of all people—stood at the top of her must-do
list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No, this chapter of her life
wasn’t headed for a love story. Were her life penned for a romance novel it
would never make the bestseller’s list. In fact, the story would be lucky to
land in the slush pile instead of the circular file.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Could things possibly get any worse?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">~~~~~</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>Thanks for visiting! I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into Honeysuckle Cove Secrets. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy. Winner will be announced Monday, July 10.</em></span></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-7174332816306456812017-06-26T00:00:00.000-05:002017-06-26T00:00:25.806-05:00Week #26: Freedom's Price by Christine Johnson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgckYvA5m0-24cWLcsGTwsUjuqauzCDkTdTKOB2uRXrkCYhPTm7pt9YUf8tDa2ilSaj1KNvHD78tEsbtGurOto3CrLIavD4ei7EwXbQlWE0V7qbW9jr4ZiCdKdvFaJfTgV1gdycyYcPO5z/s1600/Johnson_FreedomsPrice_25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgckYvA5m0-24cWLcsGTwsUjuqauzCDkTdTKOB2uRXrkCYhPTm7pt9YUf8tDa2ilSaj1KNvHD78tEsbtGurOto3CrLIavD4ei7EwXbQlWE0V7qbW9jr4ZiCdKdvFaJfTgV1gdycyYcPO5z/s320/Johnson_FreedomsPrice_25.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.christineelizabethjohnson.com/keys-of-promise-.html" target="_blank">Freedom's Price</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When Englishwoman Catherine Haynes loses both her parents and her home in 1856, she decides to cross the Atlantic to find her American mother's family in Louisiana. She enlists the help of Tom Worthington, a dashing Key West man who makes his living salvaging wrecked ships, but whose real goal in life is to bring to justice the man who stole his father's ship and caused his untimely death.<br id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_2768" /><br id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_2769" />When Catherine finally arrives at her family's plantation, she finds it in disarray and her family absent landowners. Torn between returning to Key West with Tom or beginning the hard work of restoring the plantation, Catherine soon finds herself snared in a plot to steal her inheritance. When an incredible secret comes to light, both she and Tom will face a choice. Can they relinquish the dreams that have been holding them captive in order to step forward in faith--even if it costs them everything?</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~</div>
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<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3086" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.5in; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3087" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3088"><span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3089" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Prologue</span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18pt;"></span><span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3093" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Staffordshire, England</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3094">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3095" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3097" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Early June 1856</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3103" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3104" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3105" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Miss Haynes!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3106">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3107" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3108" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3109" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">A rude masculine voice pulled Catherine from that long-ago memory. For months she’d dreamed of the stranger’s return and had romanticized him as a conquering knight. Ten years later, all such fantasies had come to a halt. Dreams were for children. She must deal with reality.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3110">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3111" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3112" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3113" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She set her jaw and returned her cousin’s glare. By very subtly lifting her gaze above his piercing gray eyes and fixing it on the portrait of her mother hanging behind Papa’s desk, she could maintain the illusion of control.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3114">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3115" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3116" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3117" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Well?” Ugly red suffused Mr. Roger Whitmore’s neck. “I am waiting for an answer.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3119" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3120" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3121" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">In the months since he and his family first arrived at Deerford, she had learned one important trait about her cousin. He expected compliance. This time she would not bow. Nor could she find words of refusal.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3122">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3123" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3124" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3125" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">The mantel clock ticked off the seconds.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3127" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3128" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3129" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore braced his hands on the desktop, leaning forward like a snarling lion eager to capture its prey. “Your reply.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3130">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3131" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3132" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3133" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Not a question.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3134">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3135" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3136" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3137" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Catherine drew an imperceptible breath and imitated Maman’s calm. “I cannot.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3139" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3141" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“You cannot?” The sentence exploded with unspoken threat.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3143" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3144" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3145" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">He would force her into this marriage.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3147" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3148" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3149" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Again the ticking of the clock filled the silence.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3150">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3151" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3152" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3153" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">What would Maman do? Faced with similar prospects upon her return from the grand tour all those years ago, Catherine’s mother had abandoned her chaperones in the dead of night and eloped. Catherine had no such escape available.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3155" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3157" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore’s smile menaced. “If you continue in this stubborn refusal, you will lose what is left of your family.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3159" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3160" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3161" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Meaning him. She had no one else. Not here. Maman’s family was in faraway Louisiana, and the decision to elope had cost her all contact with them. No letters. No word of any kind. How the separation must have hurt, for Maman often regaled her with stories of plantation life, of balls and soirees and golden days running between the tall rows of sugarcane. Catherine had begged her mother to take her there, but Maman said it was not possible. Then she’d died.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3163" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3164" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3165" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Only the portrait remained. Maman’s rose-colored gown flowed from her waist like that of an empress. At her throat rested the ruby brooch Catherine had often run her finger across when she was very young. She had not found it with Maman’s jewels. Papa must have buried it with her.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3167" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3168" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3169" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Dear Papa. Catherine tugged at her heavy black sleeves to hide the welling of tears.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3170">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3171" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3172" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3173" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“I suggest a different answer,” Whitmore said.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3174">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3175" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3176" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3177" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Catherine brushed away the past. It could not solve this dilemma. She chose her words with care. “Mr. Kirby does not suit me.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3178">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3179" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3180" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3181" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Does not suit? You act as if you would bring an heiress’s fortune to your marriage. May I remind you that the terms of your father’s estate leave you but five hundred pounds?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3182">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3183" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3184" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3185" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“And fifty pounds per year.” Eight months had not changed that fact. The passing of time had only increased her cousin’s urgency to be rid of her.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3186">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3187" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3188" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3189" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Until you wed.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3191" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3192" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3193" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">That was the crux of it. Once she married, the annual payments would cease.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3194">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3195" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3196" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3197" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore settled into Papa’s chair.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3198">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3199" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3200" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3201" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She clenched her jaw against a wave of revulsion. Whitmore might have gained the estate through settlement, but he did not belong in her father’s place.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3203" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3204" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3205" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“I do not intend to wed. Allow me to manage the estate—”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3206">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3207" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3208" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3209" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">He snorted derisively. “Is that what you call your playing around in the accounts?” He filled a pipe from Papa’s tobacco jar.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3210">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3211" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3212" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3213" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Angry words rose to the tip of her tongue and stopped there. Very few men considered a woman intelligent enough to manage accounts, least of all an estate. Whitmore was not one of them.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3214">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3215" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3216" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3217" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“If you examine my entries—”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3218">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3219" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3220" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3221" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“I have.” He slammed shut the ledger before him. “Some might consider them adequate, considering your gender, but I found them entirely insufficient.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3222">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3223" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3224" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3225" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Insufficient! Compare my skills to any man—”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3226">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3227" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3228" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3229" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Use those skills to benefit your husband.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3231" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3232" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3233" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She choked. “I am in mourning and cannot consider marriage.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3235" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3236" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3237" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“You have worn black long enough. It’s time to move on. I suggest you change into something more cheerful.” His cold gray gaze, fixed above fashionably long sideburns, bored into her. “That would be welcomed by our guests.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3238">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3239" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3240" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3241" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Mr. Kirby and Mrs. Durning, whose husband had just left for Liverpool to provision his ship for the crossing to the West Indies, were expected. Neither cared about her attire, but at least it gave her an excuse to leave this unbearable interview.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3243" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3244" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3245" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“If you will excuse me, then.” She reached for the doorknob.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3246">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3247" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3248" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3249" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Not quite yet.” He drew a breath on the pipe and exhaled a cloud of rich smoke.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3250">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3251" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3252" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3253" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Papa sitting there, his spectacles resting on the tip of his nose, where they would slide after his hours of agonizing over the accounts. Papa had been a kind and generous man, often excusing debts and allowing rents to remain in arrears far too long. Of course, she hadn’t known that until he fell ill and she had to take on the accounts.</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3255" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3256" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3257" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore cleared his throat. “At three and twenty you will soon slip from a marriageable age.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3258">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3259" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3260" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3261" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Apparently not, if Mr. Kirby is still calling.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3262">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3263" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3264" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3265" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore’s jaw tightened. “His long association with the family places him in a rather fortunate position.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3267" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3268" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3269" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Fortunate? That is a matter of perspective, is it not? As you just stated, I bring a pittance into any marriage.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3270">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3271" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3272" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3273" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Precisely. Few would consider a wife who brings only five hundred.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3275" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3276" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3277" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She could not resist poking at his unstated desire. “You might continue the fifty pounds per year. We are cousins, after all.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3278">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3279" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3280" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3281" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Let me spell out what you could never have gleaned from your pitiable scribbling in the ledgers. Your father’s estate is in ruin.”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3283" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3284" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3285" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted a finger to silence her.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3286">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3287" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3288" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3289" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Even if I manage to collect the arrears, which I fully intend to do, it will not offset the losses.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3290">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3291" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3292" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3293" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Catherine would not be set down so easily. “Then how do you intend to pay the dowry?”</span></div>
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<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3295" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3296" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3297" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">His lips twitched, signaling triumph. “I will sell the estate.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3298">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3299" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3300" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3301" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Sell Deerford?” The words barely escaped her constricted throat. “You can’t!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3302">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3303" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3304" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3305" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“As you well know, I can. In fact, a buyer is at hand.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3306">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3307" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3308" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3309" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“A buyer?” She clawed at hope. “Mr. Kirby?” Perhaps she would agree to marry him if it meant saving Deerford.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3310">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3311" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3312" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3313" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">He laughed. “Certainly not.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3314">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3315" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3316" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3317" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Then who? Will he continue the tenants’ leases? Will he keep planting the land as always?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3318">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3319" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3320" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3321" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“This clay soil was never suited to farming, dear Miss Haynes. It will fare much better in the hands of the pottery manufacturer that is buying it.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3322">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3323" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3324" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3325" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“A factory?” Her head spun. “But, the house.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3326">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3327" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3328" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3329" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“It would have been too costly to maintain.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3330">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3331" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3332" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3333" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“What will happen to the tenants? You must take care of them. They have worked Deerford land for generations.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3334">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3335" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3336" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3337" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">He leaned back and blew out a plume of smoke. “They can apply for employment at the factory.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3338">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3339" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3340" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3341" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“But they’re farmers.” Each face flashed through her mind, from old widow Evans to the two-year-old Herring twins. “They don’t know anything else.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3342">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3343" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3344" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3345" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Then they can move elsewhere.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3346">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3347" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3348" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3349" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">His cold statement sent shivers down her spine. She must help them, but how? The few guineas in her possession wouldn’t feed them long. They needed lands to tend.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3350">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3351" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3352" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3353" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“You must find them new homes,” she pleaded.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3354">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3355" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3356" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3357" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Sometimes progress demands change. For them and for you.” He paused. “Deerford is extinct. You have nowhere to go, Miss Haynes. Perhaps a husband—especially one as charitably minded as Mr. Kirby—would find a place for your tenants on his father’s or future patrons’ lands.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3358">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3359" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3360" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3361" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Her throat closed. How carefully he had crafted the snare. If she hoped to help the displaced tenants, she must marry Eustace Kirby.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3362">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3363" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3364" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3365" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore seized his advantage. “I suggest you give full consideration to Mr. Kirby’s suit.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3366">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3367" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3368" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3369" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">She sank into the closest chair. “But he’s a clergyman.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3370">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3371" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3372" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3373" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Whitmore’s brow quirked. “Do you harbor resentment against that noble profession?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3374">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3375" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3376" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3377" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Her cousin would not think so highly of the ministry if he had been forced into it as Mr. Kirby had been.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3378">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3379" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3380" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3381" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“I wouldn’t make a good minister’s wife.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3382">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3383" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3384" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3385" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“Let us hope Mr. Kirby doesn’t see that fault before the blessed event. I shall give him my blessing.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3386">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3387" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3388" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3389" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“But I did not agree to marry him.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3390">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3391" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3392" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3393" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“You would destroy your father’s hopes for you and leave your beloved tenants without a future rather than commit to a life of serving the Lord?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3394">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3395" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3396" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3397" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Put that way, it did sound rather selfish, but she could not marry Mr. Kirby. The mere thought of kissing him made her stomach turn. Having children? Settling into a country parish? Impossible.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3398">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3399" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3400" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span id="aolmail_yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1491420265617_3401" style="font-family: Times New Roman;">“There must be another answer.” Yet she could not see it.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
~~~~~</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
<em>Thanks you for visiting! I hope you've enjoyed this peek into Freedom's Price. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a copy. Winner will be announced Monday, July 3.</em></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-90322065023018066152017-06-19T14:59:00.000-05:002017-06-19T14:59:52.517-05:00Week #25: Hidden Threat by Connie Mann<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibiQbSnkTuGTogzXTeI5H-_dCRPVb7jqeqUERlWyMMbSFT8XQYSw1oVirdnP6_UhJPUiweHuX1Vw-fNgVAP7dE81dJPU8nXT8GSSjeCvwYaYJNp6gVfGx2RnOjXemOIZPDrRZuJvymv10/s1600/Mann-Hidden+Threat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibiQbSnkTuGTogzXTeI5H-_dCRPVb7jqeqUERlWyMMbSFT8XQYSw1oVirdnP6_UhJPUiweHuX1Vw-fNgVAP7dE81dJPU8nXT8GSSjeCvwYaYJNp6gVfGx2RnOjXemOIZPDrRZuJvymv10/s320/Mann-Hidden+Threat.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Threat-Connie-Mann-ebook/dp/B01NANIKWE/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Hidden Threat</a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">HIDDEN THREAT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">She’ll uncover who’s poisoning her
hometown—at any cost.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">An environmental
crisis is the last thing clean-water crusader Eve Jackson expected in her
hometown. She’s used to taking on powerful DC politicians in her fight, but
when a baby in Safe Harbor, Florida, shows mysterious signs of possible
poisoning, the danger hits painfully close to home, stirring memories of her
own mother’s death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Eve’s search leads
her to the Sutton Ranch, now run by her high school crush, Cole. Focused on
keeping the family ranch afloat as a series of deformed calves are born to his herd,
Cole has no time for Eve’s crusade. But as her unwelcome questioning ostracizes
her from locals, Cole’s irritation turns to intrigue—not only about the source
of the poisoned water but also the tenacious, loyal, and passionate woman
determined to help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">As Eve digs deeper
into Cole’s operation, she sees her suspicions in Sutton Ranch may be
misplaced. Yet she can’t shake the feeling that his ranch, and perhaps his
past, hold the answers she seeks. When the sabotage escalates, the two must
work together to uncover the culprit—if they can survive the investigation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">~~~~~</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">
<o:p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">March—Rural Virginia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div class="030BodyTextTopMargin" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Eve Jackson crouched in the mud outside the chain-link fence
and wished she’d worn different shoes. Wet sludge oozed into her new ankle
boots and her fingers were numb, but a niggle of excitement bubbled up just the
same. If her informant’s tip panned out, she’d finally have the proof she
needed to nail this company for contaminating the nearby stream. She’d been
after them for almost a year but had never been able to come up with hard
evidence. If she got it this morning, every shivering minute would be worth it.
Nobody messed with the water supply and made children sick, doggone it. Not if
she was around to stop it.</span></div>
<div class="020BodyText" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">She
lowered the viewfinder on her brand-new digital camera and rubbed her arms in
the predawn light. She’d grabbed her peacoat on the way out the door, but the
heavy wool was no match for a cold, damp stakeout, never mind that it was
already March. She hadn’t expected the sudden downpour as she’d driven to this
sleepy little town in the Virginia countryside, either.</span></div>
<div class="020BodyText" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">She’d
been staked out behind the aging warehouse for almost three hours. Her cramped
muscles were beyond stiff, and she would have traded her left arm for a cup of
coffee and a hot bath. Nothing and no one had moved since she’d arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">She
shifted position and wobbled. She flailed her arms and grabbed the fence just
before she landed backward in the mud. The camera strap yanked her neck as the
camera smacked her chest, but at least it stayed out of the mud. By the time
she steadied herself, she was breathing hard, wondering if this would prove to
be yet another wasted night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Several
minutes later, her head snapped up when she heard the distinctive rumble of a
diesel engine firing up nearby.</span></div>
<div class="020BodyText" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span class="522Ital"><span style="border: currentColor; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="border: currentColor;">Here
we go<span style="border: currentColor;">.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Her
heart rate quickened as she raised her camera and zoomed in on the activity
near the warehouse. Several more trucks rumbled down the dirt road from the
main highway. All of them tankers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span><span class="522Ital"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="border: currentColor;">Oh yeah. We’ve got you now<span style="border: currentColor;">.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="522Ital"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="border: currentColor;"><span style="border: currentColor;">~~~~~</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="522Ital"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="border: currentColor;"><span style="border: currentColor;"><em>Thanks for joining in this peek into Hidden Threat. Please leave a comment to be entered into a drawing for an autographed print copy (inside the US). Winner will be announced on Monday, June 26.</em></span></span></span></span></h3>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-62776140174613686642017-06-12T00:00:00.000-05:002017-06-12T00:00:17.061-05:00Week #24: Amish Brides by Molly Jebber, Jennifer Beckstrand, and Amy Lillard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Amish-Brides-Jennifer-Beckstrand/dp/1496711637/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1483459769&sr=8-3-fkmr0&keywords=Molly+Jebber" target="_blank">Amish Brides</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">THE RELUCTANT GROOM</span></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
<b>Jennifer Beckstrand</b><br />
Spirited Suvie Newswenger has three marriage proposals—but not from the man she
truly loves. No matter how lonely widower Aaron Beachy is, he seems determined
to stay that way forever. Now, with help from his matchmaking
great-grandparents, Suvie will do whatever it takes to rekindle Aaron’s
hope—and spark happiness for a lifetime.<br />
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<b>JOSHUA’S BRIDE</b><br />
<b>Molly Jebber</b><br />
Madeline Lehman fears her fiancé’s family will never accept her because of her
rebellious sister. She’s postponed her wedding to Joshua Stutzman until they
see the truth. But when Maddie adopts her sister’s abandoned baby, can she and
Joshua find a way to unite their families through forgiveness as well as love?<br />
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<b>A SUMMER WEDDING IN PARADISE</b><br />
<b>Amy Lillard</b>Reba Schmucker longs to be a bride. And she knows her
mischievous nieces just wanted to help when they “chose” Abel Weaver for her.
But he’s the last man in the world she’d ever marry. There’s no way her
independence and his stubbornness could ever get along—unless a sudden crisis
somehow leads to understanding . . . and love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><em>Chapter 1 (Joshua's Bride, by Molly Jebber):</em></o:p></span></h3>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1885, Lancaster, Pennsylvania</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Madeline grinned, put a finger to her lips, and pointed to her
daed in his plain coat and snoring on the front porch in his favorite rocking
chair with a blanket half covering him. His straw hat lopsided on his head, and
his brown hair covering his right eye. She pointed to the back door. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Joshua grinned and went outside with her. He clasped her hand.
“Let’s go behind your daed’s shed by the weeping willow trees.” </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She squinted and shielded her eyes shivered. She was tired of cold
weather and anxious for spring to arrive. Anytime she was with Joshua, she was
happy. He had a lilt in his step, smiled most of time, and didn’t let much get
him down. He tackled his problems, and had faith they would work out fine with
God’s help no matter how long it took. He’d been quiet and fidgety today at the
church meal, and he hurried to their shady spot. Something was on his mind, but
what? She stood in the shade. “What is wrong? You’re acting odd.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He held both her hands and stared into her eyes. “Everything is
fine.” He cleared his throat. “Beautiful Madeline, love of my life, will you
marry me?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She clapped her hands and jumped for joy. “Jah! Jah! Jah! I’d love
to marry you!” She’d found the perfect husband, and they would be together
forever. She’d tuck this eighth day of March in her mind as a special day to
remember. “I’m so happy, Joshua.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Joshua picked her up and twirled her around. “I love you, Madeline
Lehman, soon to be Mrs. Stutzman. He set her on her feet. “Your daed granted me
his permission the other night.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Her daed loved Joshua, as if he were his son. He’d said so more
than once. The two men had become fast friends. Her mamm would’ve loved Joshua.
She could envision her mamm and her getting ready for the wedding. They’d have
planned, cooked, and sewed to prepare for the special day together. Her mamm
had been a strong women of faith and brought so much joy to their lives with
her cheerful outlook on life and compassionate heart. She’d been patient with
Catherine’s quick temper and curiosity about the world. Madeline was glad Mamm
hadn’t known about Catherine’s leaving her Amish life behind for good. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She’d never forget the day she found mamm on the floor. She’d
shaken her to rouse her to no avail. Mamm’s body was cool and her eyes blank
and wide open. Her older schweschder, Catherine, had screamed and ran to fetch
their daed. He’d rocked her mamm in his arms, and then carried her body to the
wagon and drove to Dr. Wilson’s office. He came home and said the doctor didn’t
know what took her life. It’d been over five years ago when they lived in
Shipshewana, Indiana. She laid her hands in Joshua’s. “I wish Mamm were here to
share in the most wonderful day of my life.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“From what you’ve told me about her, she sounds like a loving and
wise mamm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sorry I didn’t get to
know her.” Joshua gently squeezed her fingers.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Two cats a few feet away meowing and chasing each other brought a
smile to her lips, as she gathered her thoughts. She tilted her head and stared
at their hands. “Did you tell your parents you were going to ask me to marry
you today?”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I did.” He dropped his eyes from hers.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please tell me what they said.” She frowned and stared at her
hands.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“They asked me not to marry you.” Joshua gently lifted her chin
until her eyes met his. “They’re afraid you’ll leave Lancaster like Catherine.
As time passes, I’m certain my parents will grow to love you.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Joshua, maybe we should wait to wed.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He swiped sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. “You are the
fraa for me, Madeline. I won’t let them ruin this important time in our lives.”
He tapped a finger to his chin and stared at the sky for a moment. He smiled.
“Let’s ask the bishop to schedule a date in June. It’s not too far away, but
we’d have enough time to invite everyone and plan the day.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She sighed. “Joshua, we have to consider your parents request we
not marry.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He kissed her cheek. “As time goes on, mamm and daed will
understand we are committed to each other forever, and they will regret
wrongfully judging you because of Catherine’s decisions. I’m hoping Nathaniel
will fall in love with a sweet Amish woman someday soon and take his mind off
his past with Catherine. Then we can be one happy family.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The love of her life had a positive outlook for problems. She’d be
sad to delay their wedding. She’d throw caution to the wind and have faith
everything would work out well. It was unfortunate Joshua’s bruder, Nathaniel,
had fallen in love with Catherine, and she’d left without a word to him. But
she wasn’t to blame for Catherine’s choices, nor would she do the same to
Joshua. Mr. and Mrs. Stutzman were wrong. She just hoped Joshua was right.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m going to visit the bishop tomorrow. I’d like to get on his
schedule as soon as possible. I’m ready to start building our haus.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Her heart swelled with joy. “You are a good provider. I’m blessed
Daed moved us to Lancaster three years ago. I had prayed moving from
Shipshewana, Indiana and kumming here would be a fresh new start for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m blessed to have met you, and your
friendship with daed has helped him through his grief with Mamm and Catherine’s
departure from us. I thought her meeting Nathaniel had turned her life around.
I’m so sorry she hurt your bruder, Joshua.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s not your fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
confident my bruder will recover. He loved her, and he needs time to get over
her. He’s burly, and because of his large stature, he’s mistaken for a hard
man, but he’s a softie inside.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“His soft voice amazed me the first time he spoke. You two don’t
look anything alike, but your voices are similar. I’m surprised Nathaniel is
two years younger than you. He looks older. Catherine is two years older than I
am, but I always felt like the responsible one.” Joshua had average height and
thin frame. Nathaniel towered over Joshua with his broad shoulders and muscular
arms. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You and Catherine couldn’t be more opposite. You’ve got blonde
hair, and she’s got dark red hair. Your eyes match a dark blue sky, and hers
match a green pasture. She’s always looking for adventure, and you’re calm,
content, and enjoy the simple Amish life. My parents will kumme to realize what
a faithful and loving Amish woman you are once we’re married and show them we
are committed to each other.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m fearful they won’t accept me before the wedding. If they
don’t, we must reconsider. It wouldn’t be proper for us to go against their
wishes.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He hugged her. “We’ll treat them with respect and pray to God to change
their minds. At the same time, we’ll look forward to our wedding day.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She blushed. “I love you, and I’ll be counting the days until my
name changes to Mrs. Madeline Stutzman!”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Daed cleared his throat and came around the corner of the shed. “I
thought I’d find you two here. By the glow on your face, Madeline, I assume
Joshua proposed?” He grinned.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“He did! Oh Daed, I’m so happy!”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m thrilled for both of you. I couldn’t ask for a better man to
marry my dochder.” He slapped Joshua on the arm and kissed Madeline’s cheek. He
chuckled. “Joshua, during the bishop’s message today, you couldn’t sit still. I
had an inkling you were on pins and needles to ask Madeline to marry you this
afternoon.” His eyes twinkled.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She smiled and nodded. “He took several bites of his food at the
after service meal and pushed his plate away. He scrapes and devours every last
bite of food on his plate at meals. I wondered why he didn’t have an appetite.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I waited a bit for my parents to change their minds, but I grew
impatient and chose this afternoon to propose marriage to you. The minutes
dragged by until after the church service and the trip back here to our special
spot. Now we can tell everyone.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You must be hungry, Joshua. You barely touched your sandwich and
beets. Kumme with me. I’ve got ham spread and apple tarts.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Daed rubbed his slightly round stomach. “I wouldn’t mind a
sandwich.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They went inside, and the men sat and talked while she fetched the
food. Setting plates and glasses of water in front of them, she sat at the
round oak table next to Joshua. She loved listening to the two men discuss
farming and life. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Knock. Knock.</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You two sit. I’ll find out who is here.” Madeline went to the
front room across the wooden floor and opened the door. “Nathaniel, kumme in.”
Mrs. Isabelle Stutzman often sent Nathaniel to her haus whenever Joshua was
here. She concocted some excuse for him having to return home. It was a ploy to
keep them apart. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nathaniel avoided looking at her. “I’ll wait on the porch.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><em>~~~~~</em></o:p></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><em>Thank you for joining us. I hope you have enjoyed this peek into Amish Brides...especially Joshua's Bride, by Molly Jebber. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a free copy!</em> </o:p></span></h3>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-15210989518845716362017-06-05T00:00:00.000-05:002017-06-05T00:00:01.952-05:00Week 23: Veiled Gems (Diamond Knot Dreams #1) by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Veiled-Gems-Diamond-Knot-Dreams-ebook/dp/B071YTQB3S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1495479797&sr=1-1&keywords=veiled+gems+manners" target="_blank">Veiled Gems (Diamond Knot Dreams #1)</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Lila Brooks believes in fairytale endings for everyone
but herself. She coaxes her dream of opening a wedding shop into reality when
she commissions Morgan Holt to transform a run-down Victorian house into an
all-inclusive bridal boutique, Diamond Knot Dreams. Clover Cove’s residents
have whispered that the house is filled with spirits, but superstitions have no
place in Lila's life.<br />
<br />
Morgan Holt spent the better part of his youth transplanted from one foster
home to another. Separated from his older brother, Gunnar, at an early age,
they’re reunited shortly after Morgan’s arrival to Clover Cove. But the last
thing Morgan wants is to trust his heart again to a family—or a woman as
beautiful as Lila Brooks. He has plans to finish work on the Victorian and then
ride off into the sunset, a move he’s perfected over the years.<br />
<br />
Soon Lila and Morgan have a chance at their own Happily Ever After, but will
events from the past destroy their future?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>1st Chapter:</em></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
Brooks shielded her eyes with one hand to peer down the boulevard. Sunlight
dappled through graceful branches of weeping cherry trees, turning the pavement
to a shimmer of diamonds. Warm, generous rays teased Lila’s eyes and heated her
skin through a pressed linen skirt and coral blouse. A gentle breeze carried
the musky scent of rich, damp earth and moderated the sultry heat. Hair along
the nape of Lila’s neck danced and tickled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
day was as close to perfection as anyone could wish for. Fresh mown lawns
hinted at spring. Yet, the verdant landscape did little to soften Lila’s
anxious mood as she paced a length of sidewalk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Morgan Haynes, the builder who had
come highly recommended by her friend Avery’s father, was late. Lila frowned.
Long-awaited renovations for her bridal boutique were poised to begin and she
was anxious to get the work underway. She’d spent the better part of a year
researching properties and had finally settled on the quaint East Tennessee
town of Clover Cove. Her initial visit to the area revealed a flux of growth
that would easily support new business, yet the community took pride in
maintaining its hometown, neighborly spirit. Subsequent visits, followed by a
permanent relocation several months ago, merely served to enhance Lila’s
intuition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She’d
planned and labored long months to bring her well-laid designs for the wedding
shop to fruition. Now that the property had been purchased and the construction
loan signed and sealed, she didn’t want any further delays. An overhaul would
transform the majestic three-story Victorian house into a state-of-the-art
bridal showplace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It
had been nearly three months since Lila had staked a placard, now slightly
yellowed and fading a bit from the effects of inclement weather, in the lawn
beside the Victorian’s front stairs. Its message rang simple and to the point:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Coming
Soon…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Diamond
Knot Dreams: Your One-stop Wedding Shop.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Coming
Soon</i> proved the operative phrase. Lila wanted to complete this project with
every attention to detail, but her patience was wearing thin. Excitement took
over. She longed to get the boutique up and running. Surely she could find a
balance to get everything done well and within a timely fashion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It
was going to take a village to coax the business to fruition, and so far she
and Morgan were the only two signed up for the team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And as it stood Morgan was AWOL. No
phone call, no text, no email.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Where
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lila felt as if she’d known Morgan
for a lifetime, yet she had stumbled upon him merely months ago and quite by
accident. After confiding to her former college roommate and lifelong friend,
Avery Lakin, her frustration in finding a builder who was both willing and
qualified to tackle the boutique project, Avery spurred to action. Less than
twenty-four hours later Lila had received a call from Avery’s dad, who supplied
Morgan’s information and personally vouched for him as a top-of-the-line
builder. Additionally, Morgan specialized in transforming older buildings while
maintaining the heart of their original beauty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
snatched the timely lead. A quick phone call to Morgan’s Nashville office set
things into motion. Via the countless emails and phone conversations that
followed, she found Morgan to be forthright and dependable. Even more
importantly, he seemed capable of tackling the project while respecting the
confines of her budget. His sense of humor and the ease she found in their
ability to communicate proved an added bonus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As
the weeks passed, Lila found herself looking forward to Morgan’s calls for more
than the business aspect. His deep, southern accent proved intriguing and Lila
knew from his website photos that he had the looks to match. He’d seemed as
eager as she to finally meet in person and get this project started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Until
today. Where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
gazed down the boulevard once again. A mockingbird in the tree across the way
warbled through its repertoire of calls. The branches of a weeping cherry
quaked as the bird swooped to a lower limb to continue his lonesome serenade.
He seemed to be calling to her—or perhaps calling for Morgan. But his cry did
no good at all. Traffic along the road proved light this time of mid-afternoon.
Not so much as a motorcycle or even a bicycle crossed her path as she waited
there. Lila hoped to enhance the traffic pattern with a clever marketing
campaign. She planned to welcome a healthy flow of vehicles as soon as the
boutique opened its doors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
nibbled a fingernail as she envisioned Morgan snarled in a traffic jam. She’d
learned the hard way that the I-40 corridor between downtown Nashville and
Clover Cove could be daunting as rush-hour approached. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Or
perhaps he’d changed his mind about coming…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She
dismissed the thought as she turned her attention back to the house. The
Victorian, with its drooping sleepy-eyed shutters, languished like a neglected
woman just waiting for her soulmate to come along so they might embark together
on the adventure of a lifetime. A wide, graveled area at the front entrance
would, with some serious TLC, serve as an ample parking lot. The weed-infested
area led to a broad staircase that opened onto a sweeping wrap-around porch
just made for sweet tea and sunshine. The flooring and rails would benefit from
a pressure-washing and fresh coat of paint. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to
imagine a cluster of rocking chairs accented by the colorful spill of potted
wave petunias. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila’s
plan to offer a down-home southern flair, along with impeccable customer
service, was sure to draw clients to the bridal boutique like honey draws
flies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ample,
panoramic windows at the front of the wood-framed structure offered a wash of
natural light along the interior. Original hardwood flooring would be stripped
and polished to a high sheen meant to complement the many displays she planned
to showcase.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila’s
pulse thrummed with anticipation. There were so many things to love about the
building; she found it hard to believe this property had sat vacant for several
years. But the structure’s crowning detail proved to be a pair of stout, regal
turrets. One perched along the east side of the front and a second adorned the
back. Both drew the eye in an enchanting architectural display. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
house proved a beautiful, intriguing poem whose architectural lines pleased
even the most discerning eye. The structure lacked for nothing—except a
thorough overhaul of its inner workings. She and Morgan had agreed that updated
wiring and plumbing would be a good place to start. In addition, Lila had
requested the removal of a few non-weight-bearing walls. The renovation would
open the first floor into a spacious showroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Morgan
had assured Lila during their many phone conferences and emails that the list
of repairs would be easy enough to complete before spring eased to summer. But
Lila still felt more than a bit uneasy when she thought of the copious notes
and details they’d sifted through. There were just so many things to consider. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Elephants
danced a jig through her belly. She splayed a hand to calm the nerves. Had she
thought things out well enough? Had she considered every possible detail? There
were a million things that could go wrong with this project and any delay could
easily cripple her financially. She’d tossed every last penny of her savings
into the mix and had gambled on a small business loan, as well, to chase this dream
to the finish line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even
so, the house’s peeling paint and weather-warped deck boards did nothing to
dispel Lila’s excitement. She saw beyond the Victorian’s dust and fractured
plaster to the beauty locked inside. The house sat like a princess on her throne
and Lila vowed to add a bushel of crowning touches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But the work couldn’t begin until
the tardy Mr. Morgan Haynes showed himself. And if that didn’t happen soon,
Lila would surely lose her mind. She reached into her purse for her cellphone
and checked the screen for a voicemail, a text. At this point she’d even settle
for a flimsy smoke signal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Any
sign of life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead
she found nothing but a blank screen. Lila caught her lower lip between her
teeth and grimaced as she dropped the phone back into her purse. Pacing the
length of the sidewalk did no good to calm the rising tide that turned her
stomach. Worry set in. It was so out of character for Morgan to miss an
appointment time that Lila feared he might be snarled in a ghastly pile-up
along the interstate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
thought tangled her nerves. She feared she might never meet Morgan
face-to-face. The project aside, something more drew her to him…something she
couldn’t begin to explain. Could she possibly have feelings for a man she
hadn’t even met? One she’d merely conversed with? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Often.
Daily. Sometimes several times a day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She
sighed and paused to gather her bearings. The sidewalk swam beneath her feet as
she imagined him in harm’s way. Astonished, she realized her eyes had flooded
with tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
humidity must be getting to her. She drew a deep breath and willed her pulse to
steady. As her senses knitted back together, a thought came—perhaps she’d do
better to pray instead of fretting over something that was beyond her control.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She dipped her head and was about to
close her eyes and surrender herself when a flash of red swooped around the
corner. It took a moment to register the flashy sports car that gleamed like a
ripe habanero pepper as sunlight bounced from the waxed paint. The ragtop
fanned open. Music blared over the muffled, steady rumble of a high-powered
engine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
pressed one hand to her ribcage and drew a huge breath of relief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Morgan—he’s OK. He’s arrived
safely.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She
headed that way as the car approached with the saucy swagger of a confident
driver at the wheel. She lifted her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and
propped them atop her head. Sunlight stung her eyes, causing tears to gather
again. She swiped away the moisture and blinked hard to clear her vision. She
wanted a good look at the man to whom she had entrusted her life savings—and
her future in Clover Cove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His
dark hair danced in the breeze. Though his voice lost its battle with the thrum
of music, his moving lips told her he sang right along with the melody. His
eyes were shielded by reflective wire-frame sunglasses, but the kelly-green
polo shirt showcased sinewy forearms as well as a broad and well-defined
terrain of shoulders. The guy obviously knew his way around heavy equipment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
planted her hands on her hips as the car skidded to a stop alongside the curb.
She waited, tapping polished fingernails along the top of her thighs, for
Morgan to lower the radio’s volume. Unaffected by her piercing gaze, he belted
out the final verse of the song. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now
she heard him. Oh, yes indeed. She narrowed her gaze and made a point to tap
the face of her watch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">No
matter. He actually had the nerve to wink at her as the last note resonated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Really…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Flashing
a magnetic smile as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he switched off the
ignition. The music faded, but he continued the tune with a totally original
verse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are
you finished yet? Are you done belting out your ridiculous rendition of that
song?” Lila felt her blood pressure soar to a dangerous level. “Because, if I
didn’t know better I’d think you hoped to be discovered by a talent scout.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Wow…”
Morgan twirled his key ring on one finger. “So you think I’m ready for the big
stage?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
wouldn’t go that far.” Though her nerves still fired with the thought of
waiting on him, Lila felt the tickle of a smile along the corners of her lips.
She had to admit that although Morgan would probably never win a talent show
for his singing—much less an award for being on time today—he possessed a
healthy dose of charisma that she found endearing. “Saying you’re ready for
crooning in the shower would be a stretch, and that’s only if no one is
listening.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ouch.”
The smile went flat as he opened the driver’s door and unfolded himself from
the seat. His legs were long, lean, and the rest of him followed suit. “You
don’t mince words, do you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not
when it comes to my business…or my money.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ll
file that memo for future reference.” He tapped his left temple. “By the way,
I’m Morgan Haynes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
offered his hand. Huge, warm, callused. The guy was no stranger to physical
labor. Yet she sensed a gentleness as his fingers melded with hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For
a long moment, neither one of them let go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Morgan…I
assumed as much.” With a tinge of regret, Lila drew her hand back. “I recognize
you from the photo posted on your website. I’m pleased to finally meet you.
And, as you’ve most likely suspected, I’m Lila Brooks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lila,
yes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stepped onto the sidewalk as
his gaze drank her in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank
you.” She nodded curtly. “For the record, you’re late.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Actually,
I’m two minutes early.” Morgan smoothed the pad of his thumb over the face of
his wristwatch to prove his point. “Two and a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">half</i> minutes, to be exact.” He ran a hand through his hair, coaxing
the dark, windblown waves back into place. A shadow of stubble grazed his
jawline, connecting at a deep cleft near the center of his chin. When he
removed his sunglasses, smoky-blue eyes tagged hers and held tight. “But if
you’d like me to get back in my car and drive away, then return in a few
minutes so you can be right on the point, I’m more than happy to oblige.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No,
that’s certainly not necessary.” Lila gathered her hair as it danced in the
breeze to veil her eyes and tease her cheeks. She wished she had thought to
secure it with an elastic band, as was her habit, before heading out that
morning. “It’s just that in my universe if you’re not at least ten minutes
early, you’re late.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well,
I obviously don’t reside in your universe, so one of us is going to have to
consider a change of zip code.” Morgan turned back toward the car. “And, since
we’re filing mental notes, just for the record you need to know that I don’t do
well taking orders from high maintenance control-freaks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“High
maintenance…control freaks?” Lila stuttered. “Who’s a control freak?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Take
a look.” Morgan grinned as he tapped the car’s side-view mirror. Lila was
horrified to find her image gazing back. “If the reflection fits…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s
ridiculous. I’m not high maintenance. ” Lila shook her head to reinforce the
fact and pressed a hand to his forearm. It only took a moment for her to regret
the touch as sinewy muscles screamed back at her. The guy had obviously spent
substantial time wielding construction tools. “At least not usually. My current
attitude is merely a reflection of my frazzled nerves, and I suppose I can
concede that’s really not your fault at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’ve
got that right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“OK,
I’m sorry.” Lila broached a weary smile. “This project has me on edge. So, cut
me a little slack.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
can do that.” Morgan’s gaze slid to her hand still resting along his arm. “And
though the jury’s still out on the high maintenance issue, I completely
understand the nerves. This is a huge undertaking.” His gaze shifted to the
Victorian. “But she’s a beauty in the rough, that’s for sure. We’re going to
accomplish great things together…a total transformation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You
think so?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
do, or I wouldn’t be here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Right.
I’m sorry for starting off on the wrong foot and for being so snippity with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Snippity?
Is that a real word?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“It
is now.” Lila removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. “Like I said, I’m
just…a little on edge and anxious to get going.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then,
let’s get to it.” He started toward the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
let’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
fell in step beside him. His stride was long, and she struggled to keep pace.
She hadn’t made it half-a-dozen steps when the heel of her navy pump caught in
a sidewalk crack. She stumbled—right into Morgan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Whoa,
there.” Without missing a beat, he caught her against his chest. For a moment
she found herself in a tilt-a-whirl of sensations. “I’ve got you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A
terrain of muscles…the clean scent of soap…a hint of cotton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She
steadied herself and blew a wisp of bangs from her eyes as she slanted a gaze
upwards to find Morgan staring at her. “Well, that’s just peachy…nothing seems
to be going as planned today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why
don’t you take a breath? We’ll slow the pace a little.” He set her firmly on
her feet and took a step back. “Better?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes.
Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
offered her a hand as his lips curved into a lopsided smile. Again, Lila found
evidence of a strong work ethic along the surface of his palm; calluses lined
his fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t have to go it
alone anymore—I’m here now. You’ve got a load on your plate and that’s a lot to
handle, so let me share the burden. It’s wise to remember that restoring a
century-old house takes a tender, patient touch—not a bulldozer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of
course you’re right. That’s why you’re the expert.” Lila straightened and
smoothed a wrinkle from her pencil skirt. She wished she’d thought to wear more
sensible shoes along with the hairband she’d also forgotten. The breeze caused
her hair to tumble over her shoulders and into her eyes. She brushed it back
with her fingers. “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Haynes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good
grief, call me Morgan. We’re going to be working together from this point on,
elbow to elbow, so let’s just shelve the formalities.” He gave her hand a
gentle squeeze. “I’m glad we’re finally here together. Those phone
conversations and the tedious exchange of emails was getting old fast.” Morgan
scanned the length of her, pausing at the area just below her knees, where the
hem of the skirt skimmed her skin, before rising up to tag her gaze once again.
“You look different than I expected.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“How
so?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Just…”
He shrugged and tucked the sunglasses into the collar of his polo shirt.
“…softer. From your tone during our conversations I expected more of the
drill-sergeant type—short hair, loafers, no nail polish or make-up. The
no-nonsense type.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Loafers?”
Lila chuckled. “Well, despite my more feminine attire and the fact that I
prefer to wear my hair long and my nails groomed, I am certainly no-nonsense
when it comes to business decisions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
that is one footnote that has rung through loud and clear.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
suppose your round-about sort of compliment warrants a thank you, so…thank
you.” Lila tossed her length of hair back over one shoulder and checked the
buttons on her blouse. Morgan regarded her as if he could see right through
her. What had he expected—that she’d sport three heads, each with a cyclops
eye? “Well, I’m ready to get this project started if you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh,
I’m beyond ready. But wait just one more minute. I almost forgot something
important.” He turned and jogged a few steps back toward the car. He leaned
into the open ragtop and lifted a bulky package from the passenger seat. “Here
you go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Flowers…you
brought me flowers?” Lila pressed the generous cluster of wildflower blooms to
her nose and inhaled the sweet promise of spring. “They’re absolutely lovely,
and wildflowers are my favorite.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
figured a girl like you would prefer roses, but I’m glad these will do. I
thought they were pretty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“They
are beautiful. And they’re absolutely perfect. Wildflowers top my list. But why
did you do this? I didn’t expect—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I
know you didn’t. That’s what makes it extra special. And I suppose I should
warn you that I’m full of surprises. This has been a huge project…the dream,
the vision, the plans. I thought you should have something to commemorate the
beginning of the final stage—construction.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank
you, Morgan. That’s so sweet.” Lila gently stroked the blooms. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’re</i> really sweet.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well,
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never sweet. So, you’re
welcome.” He bowed elegantly and then rose again to turn once more toward the
car. He grabbed a ball cap from the seat and tugged it low on his head to
shield his eyes from the sun. “Now, lead the way if you can manage in those
non-loafer shoes. Which, I might add, I find highly appealing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No
worries.” Lila hid a grimace as her toes pinched in the pumps. She warmed at
the thought that he found her appealing, yet chastised herself for her poor
wardrobe choice. What was she thinking this morning to don footwear so
unsuitable for the day’s tasks? Maybe Morgan’s suggestion of loafers wasn’t
such a bad idea after all. Her entire outfit was more appropriate for a day
spent behind a desk—not roaming the grounds of the winding, spacious Victorian.
She adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder and turned once more toward the
narrow walkway that led to the house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The
breeze suddenly kicked up, causing fallen leaves to skitter along the curb. As
Lila gazed skyward through the weathered glass of the Victorian’s front turret,
she was sure a shadow crossed the window. Her pulse shuddered at the thought of
an intruder in the house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did
you see that?” She motioned toward the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What?”
Morgan followed her gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Up
there…in the window.” She squinted and shielded her eyes against the sun for a
better look. “I saw something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Probably
just a shadow, a reflection of a tree limb.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Maybe.”
She strained her gaze, but the scrutiny found no further sign of movement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She
shrugged off the idea of an unwelcome visitor lurking along the property. No
one with the exception of she and the realtor had been in the house during the
past year. Morgan had yet to step inside. His work had all been done through
research using the architectural plans and a computer program. He had yet to
see the guts of the structure firsthand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lila
brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This
sunlight has my eyes playing tricks on me.</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Morgan’s right,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I must have
seen a tree limb dancing in the breeze.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are
you OK?” Morgan eased in beside Lila, notepad in hand, and took her by the
elbow. “Let me help you. This gravel is tricky. It’s definitely on the to-do
list to repave this lot for easier access and parking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m
OK. I just thought…well, I really thought I saw something lurking in the turret
window. It looked like a woman dressed in an old-fashioned gown…you know, with
a high-buttoned collar.” Lila demonstrated by cupping a hand above her
collarbone. “But it couldn’t possibly have been, or you would have seen it too.
I simply saw the reflection of a tree branch or a passing cloud.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“There
are no clouds in the sky today.” Morgan motioned toward the rich expanse of
blue above them. “Look…nothing but an ocean of sunshine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Right.”
Lila hesitated as she gave the window a final curt scan before drawing her
attention back to Morgan. “Then it was a shadow of some sort. There are plenty
of trees along the front yard.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
there are.” Morgan nodded as he rubbed the scruff along his chin. “So, you’re
probably right on that count. But I still have to ask…have you seen them yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Seen
who?” <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The spirits that are said to
be found here. I’ve done a little research of my own on this property and rumor
has it that the house took so long to sell because people are concerned that
something lingers inside…something not of this world.” He motioned toward the
second-floor turret where a pane of glass was fractured by a jagged gash. The
damage was just one of the many reasons Lila had been able to snatch this
building for a song from the realty company. “By all accounts this place
is…well, some would assert that it’s haunted.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s
simply an old wife’s tale.” Lila sniffed and the pollen from a cluster of
Bradford pear trees along the drive made her sneeze. When she’d caught her
breath and thanked Morgan for his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God
bless you</i>, she continued. “This house is nothing of the sort. Talk like
that is just…well, it’s merely superstition. I would prefer to keep such rumors
where they belong—out of the limelight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Whatever
you say, but I’m not the one who’s seeing shadows.” Morgan tucked his car keys
into his pocket. “Anyway, why don’t we shelve the so-called rumors until later
and get this party started?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
and I saw the reflection of a tree limb.” She nodded stiffly to drive the point
home. “You were right; that’s all it was. Nothing more.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet,
now she wasn’t so sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of
course you did.” He tucked the notebook beneath one arm. “Are you ready to head
inside?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh…I’m
more than ready. I think I may have seen a vase for these flowers in an
upstairs room.” The previous owners had left several pieces of furniture and a
flurry of belongings—almost as if they’d left in a hurry. “And the water should
be running—I called the company last week to have it turned back on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“All
systems are go, then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,
they are.” Suddenly, Lila felt a tiny trill of excitement at what lay in store.
Her life-long dream to own her own business was taking flight now—at this very
moment. She’d be her own boss, make the boutique exactly what she wanted it to
be. Her imagination—and her budget—were the only limits. The very thought was
almost surreal. She stepped carefully along the gravel drive, holding her
balance as she crossed to the stairs. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And</i>,
Mr. American Idol wannabe, I can manage in these shoes just fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">“Sure
you can.” Morgan covered his mouth with one hand. Lila was sure his light
snickers were directed at her. He bowed once more as he swept his free hand
across the drive. “After you, princess. Let’s go.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">~~~~~</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>Thanks for joining in the fun. I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into Veiled Gems (Diamond Knot Dreams #1). Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Check back on Monday, June 12, when the winner will be announced and a new book featured.</em></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></h3>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-8575593339394037532017-05-29T00:00:00.000-05:002017-05-29T00:00:01.202-05:00Week #22: Beyond the Storm by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZdYhH6Rkoi1twFbfKDKRmQVfYn9Iz1LvrAlrJVmwkS4ZVI_8qNZqC8c0jweKIKKm-fYaFEXossl9SE1k3p1hVNA1PKJ0H720ZNz20XO0mC09tEvwXWGlABRwqpvk3fCj9K-ToB00ujBt/s1600/Beyond+the+Storm+%2528%25232%2529+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZdYhH6Rkoi1twFbfKDKRmQVfYn9Iz1LvrAlrJVmwkS4ZVI_8qNZqC8c0jweKIKKm-fYaFEXossl9SE1k3p1hVNA1PKJ0H720ZNz20XO0mC09tEvwXWGlABRwqpvk3fCj9K-ToB00ujBt/s320/Beyond+the+Storm+%2528%25232%2529+LJPG.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Storm-Honeysuckle-Cove-Book-ebook/dp/B01N4QKAW3/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1490299441&sr=8-1&keywords=beyond+the+storm+by+mary+manners" target="_blank">Beyond the Storm (Honeysuckle Cove #2)</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Recreational Therapist Ava Kennedy is in charge of
Valentine’s Day festivities for shut-in patients at Honeysuckle Cove Children’s
Hospital. When a winter storm threatens to derail planned events and steal the
children’s joy, Ava calls on longtime friend and firefighter Nick Jones for
rescue. The two have been close, platonic friends since kindergarten, but Ava
soon finds her heart whirling like the drifting snowflakes outside her office
window.<br />
<br />
Nick Jones is skilled at extinguishing fires, so he doesn’t count on kindling a
flame with lifelong friend Ava Kennedy. But he’s got a sweet spot for kids and
women…especially when one particular woman—Ava—possesses a soft heart and
laughter that draws like an electron magnet. Despite Nick’s valiant efforts to
resist, he finds himself caught up in the attraction.<br />
<br />
Will these friends’ new feelings weather the shifting tempest…or is this simply
a passing storm?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em>1st Chapter:</em></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava
Kennedy paced Honeysuckle Cove Children’s Hospital’s fifth floor break room as
she watched Channel 12 News run down the week’s forecast. Snow and more snow
was on its way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She
grimaced. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not now…please.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The
weather’s not looking good, is it?” Tami crossed the room and slipped a dollar
into a drink machine nestled in the corner. The petite pediatric nurse often
recharged her energy with an afternoon caffeinated soda. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“No. Not
at all.” Ava frowned as she used a remote to lower the TV’s volume. “And the
worst of it looks like it’s going to hit on Saturday—same day the Valentine’s
party is scheduled for the kids.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ouch.
That smarts.” Tami snagged her drink from the dispenser, snatched her lunch box
from the community fridge, and slipped into a plastic chair at a round table
near the window. “All the work you’ve done…the months of planning…it’s all in
jeopardy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s not
my work I’m concerned about.” Ava sank into a seat across from Tami and glanced
through an expanse of window glass to study the sky. The temperature that
morning had felt mild and even now the heavens appeared a peaceful, angelic
blue without so much as the slightest hint of clouds. Perhaps the meteorologist
had miscalculated his snow forecast and the storm would skirt right past
Honeysuckle Cove. She sighed as she sent up a silent prayer and returned her
gaze to Tami. “It’s the kids I’m worried about. They’ll be crushed if the party
has to be cancelled. Mr. Aster has already phoned me half-a-dozen times to
remind me that he refuses to drive in heavy rain—let alone through a raging snowstorm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Aster
was a hugely successful sixty-something local business owner with ageless
energy and widely-acknowledged eccentricities. He also proved one of the most
generous benefactors of Honeysuckle Cove Children’s Hospital. He’d lost a
granddaughter in a snowboarding accident several years ago, and had recently
helped to fund a state-of-the-art physical therapy wing in her memory. He had
backed Ava’s suggestion of a holiday party for the shut-in kids on one
condition—he and his wife wanted to play the lead roles of Mr. and Mrs. Cupid,
complete with matching red velvet, heart-shaped sacks of toys filled with gifts
for the children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
costumes had been specially hand-crafted and the Asters had brought them by to
show off to Ava. The matching set now hung in the small closet in her office,
waiting to be worn. Posters had been plastered along the hospital corridors and
on elevator doors, and the entire hospital staff had talked up the party with
the kids who were undergoing long-term treatments. Those children would call
the therapy wing home during the holiday. Even the local newspapers and TV
stations had done their part to spread the word. Ava couldn’t let the kids and
their families down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,
I’ve heard about Mr. Aster’s odd driving quirks.” Tami scooped hummus onto a
cracker and took a nibble. “He’s a bit of a nervous Nellie since he and his
wife got T-boned by that snow plow during last winter’s ice storm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Luckily,
no one was seriously injured. I can’t say I blame him for being a bit
over-cautious. Even so…” Ava pouted. “I suppose it’s a moot point since Mrs.
Aster has the flu. She couldn’t come near the children anyway. During his last
phone call, Mr. Aster finally admitted they wouldn’t make the event. He told me
to find someone to take both their places. But I’m not left with much time.
When it rains, it pours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“More
like when it flurries, it blizzards.” Tami giggled briefly at her own joke,
until she realized from Ava’s daggered stare that she missed the humor in it.
“I’m sorry, Ava.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Me, too.
It’s too late to change our plans. And even if we could switch the event date,
it would defeat the purpose of the party. It’s for the kids. On Valentine’s
Day. While they’re shut in here. Away from family and friends.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Right.
Well, that’s crummy.” Tami frowned. “You know I’d be more than happy to help
with the festivities, but I drew the proverbial short straw this holiday so I’m
pulling a double shift at the nurse’s station that day.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh,
you’re sure to have your hands full doing that, especially with the storm
bearing down.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, but
I’m settling in with double duty for a great cause.” She winked
conspiratorially. “Fiona has a hot date. I think Isaac is going to pop The Big
Question.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava
wasn’t surprised by this tidbit of news. Fiona, a pediatric nurse and Isaac, a
fifth year resident had been dating for more than two years and proved the
picture of love. Most of the hospital staff had been wagering on when the
nuptials might occur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s
exciting.” Ava was happy for them, yet she couldn’t help but feel a little
pinprick of envy. Though she’d weathered her fair share of frogs, she had yet
to find her prince charming. She feared she never would. “I hope their plans
aren’t derailed by the storm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, I
don’t think Old Man Winter himself could keep Isaac from sliding that
engagement ring on Fiona’s finger. He’s been hinting about it for weeks now.
She’s the one who’s been dragging her feet. She thinks he should finish his
residency first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, if
they can manage to carry on through the storm then so can I.” Ava nodded with
stiff determination. “Yes, it’s time to be proactive. I’m going to launch a
backup plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well,
you<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> are</i> the planner extraordinaire so
if anyone can pull it off, you can.” Tami’s laughter danced along the window
glass. “But from the looks of that mess—” She motioned to the TV, where a
snow-ridden 5-day forecast was plastered across the monitor “—you’re going to
need to pull out every trick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Right.
So it’s imperative that I draft someone who has use of a four-wheel vehicle and
exhibits mad driving skills in the snow.” Ava pulled a steno notepad and pen
from her pocket. She flipped open the pad, quickly scrawled a few notes, and
then paused to tap her chin with the pen as she considered further
possibilities. “He’ll have to help me pick up toy donations the morning of the
party—or possibly the evening before if the storm hits early. It would be a
bonus if he’d also roll up his sleeves to help with last-minute decorations and
lead a few of the activities. Mr. and Mrs. Aster had planned to spend the
entire day here and I was really counting on their help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s a
tall order.” Tami polished off the last cracker and snapped shut the lid of the
hummus. “Paul Bunyan sort of tall.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Perhaps…but
not impossible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of
course it’s not. Nothing’s impossible. But what about Cupid and his
heart-shaped sack of toys? Will this Jack of all trades be able to take Mr.
Aster’s place? And will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> take Mrs.
Aster’s place?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I can
certainly fill in as far as Mrs. Aster goes, but Mr. Cupid…hmm, that’s the most
important part.” Ava frowned thoughtfully. “Well, whoever agrees to help will
just have to be a good sport when it comes to wearing the costume and handing
out gifts. The kids have their hearts totally set on the visit, and I’m not
going to let them down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Speaking
of Cupid, is that hunky firefighter friend of yours going to bring you lunch
again today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hunky…firefighter?”
Ava wracked her brain until a light finally dawned. “Oh, you mean Nick?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes…Mr.
Tall, Dark and Blue-eyed. Emphasis on the blue eyes…and the hunky.” Tami popped
the tab on her soda, drew a sip, and then fanned herself with dramatics worthy
of an Oscar. “Yes, definitely hunky. He’s oh-so-easy on the eyes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I hadn’t
noticed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tami
choked on the soda. “Are you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blind</i>?”
She sputtered and reached for a napkin to swipe dribble from her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of
course I’m not blind. Nick and I are just friends, that’s all.” Ava chuckled.
“Since grade school, when he shared his lunch with me on the playground one
afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“She
didn’t have one.” Nick strode into the room as he spoke the words. His rich,
deep voice held a hint of playfulness. “Because her mom was in the hospital and
her dad forgot to pack it. She looked so forlorn huddled there in the shade
beneath the corkscrew slide that my heart melted into a big, sloppy puddle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, be
still my heart.” Tami splayed a hand to her chest and pretended to swoon as she
flopped against the chair back. “That is just the sweetest thing I’ve ever
heard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> sweet.” Maggie remembered the way
Nick had scrambled beneath the slide to join her. Mulch clung to both of them,
and even now the sweet, musky scent of woodchips and damp earth conjured warm
memories of that day. For a few moments, he’d simply gazed at her. Then, as if
he completely understood without her voicing a single word, he drew a sandwich
from its plastic wrapper, divided it, and handed her the larger half. Maggie
imagined she’d never tasted anything quite so delicious. “I was crying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Huge
crocodile tears.” Nick nodded as a he pressed a finger to Ava’s left cheek.
“Like a waterfall.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
stroked her cheek to mime falling tears and the gentle touch wove flickers of
heat up Ava’s spine. She gasped softly and stilled in the seat, suddenly unable
to move even the smallest muscle as her pulse hummed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wow.”
Tami watched with wide, dewy eyes. “I forgot my lunch once and all I got
was…nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Dad had
a lot on his mind.” Ava’s breath returned as Nick broke contact. The room felt
suddenly warm, as if maintenance had adjusted the break room’s thermostat. And
due to budget constraints, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i>
happened, so it had to be some sort of internal combustion. She tugged the
collar of her turtleneck and wished she’d opted that morning for a cotton
blouse instead. “He didn’t mean to leave my lunchbox sitting on the counter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of
course he didn’t.” Nick snagged two bottled waters from the drink machine and
handed one to her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“He was
distracted.” Ava scooted over to make room while he folded himself into a chair
beside her. “Because he was called to a—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Rescue.”
Nick finished as he set a brown paper sack on the table and shifted closer to
her. “Yes, that’s how the story goes. Cat stranded in a tree, of all things.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It was a
kitten,” Ava added, breathing in the familiar, subtle scent of Nick’s
aftershave as he leaned toward her. “A very cute kitten that belonged to our
neighbor down the street.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Princess
Cuddles.” Nick grinned and the dimple at the center of his chin deepened,
adding a playful and slightly mischievous depth to his face. “She was a
princess, all right. That cat had the whole block wrapped around her little
front paw, didn’t she Av?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava
barely heard the question as she drank in Nick’s features while Tami’s earlier
assessment of him swam through her head. Midnight-black hair framed deep blue
eyes while his smile warmed like the soft breeze of a summer day. Stonewashed
jeans and a flannel shirt layered over a snug navy T-shirt accentuated broad
shoulders that tapered to a lean waist and long, muscular legs. Tami’s
appraisal proved spot on. Nick was certainly handsome, no doubt about that. But
Ava had never really considered his looks in the amorous sense of the word.
After all, they were merely good friends…nothing more. It had been that way
forever and nothing would bring about change…right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s
right,” Ava said, not quite sure whether the words were meant as a response to
Nick’s comment or as an answer to her internal question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nick
lifted one hand to form a cup with his palm. “She was a tiny ball of fur that
fit right here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava was
astounded that he remembered such vague details. Even she had forgotten the
part about the kitten’s diminutive size at the time of its rescue. But Nick had
taken a particular liking to the helpless animal, and had even run to the
grocery store for kitten food when their neighbor, Mrs. Steinweiler, took ill
and couldn’t make the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mrs.
Steinweiler was beside herself, thinking the poor little thing was going to
meet with a horrible demise.” Ava did remember that part…the manner in which
the elderly widow had leaned on her cane to painstakingly pace the length of
sidewalk in front of her house while she made feeble attempts to call for help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep.
Your dad had no choice but to grab his extension ladder and rush to the
rescue.” Nick’s soft laughter proved infectious. “So I paid forward the good
deed by rescuing his daughter from hunger pangs with half a ham and cheese on
wheat and a pair of chocolate chip cookies.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“They
were very good cookies.” Ava still tasted the delicious, bittersweet flavor of
dark chocolate, warmed from the sun, which had melted on her tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Homemade—my
mom’s secret recipe.” Nick smacked his lips as he began to pull lunch items
from the brown bag he’d set on the table. A pair of turkey sandwiches, barbecue
flavored chips, a couple of dill pickle spears. “To this day, they’re my
favorites, and I just happen to have a few packed in here, still warm from the
oven.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava never
ceased to be amazed by the way he managed to fit a buffet of sorts into the
sacks. These weekly lunches had become a tradition for them. Ever since that
day in kindergarten, Nick had managed to make Wednesdays their share-a-lunch
days. All through elementary school, into middle and high school, and even
later on, when jobs had taken them their separate ways, Nick had never missed a
Wednesday lunch with her. There were times Ava had been in meetings and she’d
exit to find Nick had left her lunch with the receptionist. If he happened to
get called to an emergency, the lunch would find its way to Ava via his mom or
a co-worker. The calendar could be set by the arrival of Wednesday lunches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As Ava
studied today’s sandwich selection—one of her favorites—she found it impossible
to resist the rich aroma of chocolate that caused her belly to grumble. She
slipped a cookie from its foil wrapper and took a nibble. There was nothing
wrong with having a little dessert before the meal—especially when Loretta
Jones’s cookies were the dessert. The taste conjured affectionate memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You told
your mom what happened,” Ava voiced a conclusion to the missing lunch anecdote.
“And she fretted so much that she made a lunch for me and sent it to school
every day after that—at least until <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i>
mom came home from the hospital.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava
smiled at the thought. She loved Nick’s mom as her own. And since both her
parents had passed—her mom during high school and her dad just last year—she
considered Loretta her family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep. Mom
loves you, Ava.” Nick leaned close and used the pad of his thumb to brush a
crumb from her lips. His breath tickled her cheek. “There, got it. You look
beautiful even with a smudge on your face, Av.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava’s
breath caught at the tender look in Nick’s eyes. Her belly did a weird little
tumble at the shortened version of her name that only he used.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Time out…reality check. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava
shifted in her seat. What was going on here? This was Nick, after all, and it
was just another share-a-lunch Wednesday. They’d eat their sandwiches, exchange
tidbits about their week, and afterward part ways to go on about their
business. Nothing was different…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Or was
it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nick
handed her a bag of chips with a smile that raised the temperature of the room
a few more degrees. Ava pushed up the sleeves of her turtleneck and tugged at
the collar again. She thought she might melt. It was entirely possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tami
grinned and rolled her eyes as she gathered the wrapper from her crackers.
Chair legs scraped over tile when she stood. She drew her gaze from Nick to
slice Ava a sly, knowing look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Um…unless
I’m seriously mistaken, Ava, you just found the answer to your snowstorm dilemma.”
She leaned into the table, a grin of pure mischief on her face. “And from the
looks of things, he comes with an added bonus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ava felt
a flush of heat bloom across her cheeks. “A bonus?” She prayed that Nick was
oblivious to the tremor in her voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Uh huh.”
Tami’s smile widened as she offered a saucy wink. “I’m talking Valentine magic.
Lucky you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Air
rushed out of the room, leaving the vacuum of a black hole in its wake. Ava
felt Nick’s gaze zero in on her, and her pulse danced an odd little tango that
had fingers of heat stroking her belly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You’re
delusional,” was all Ava could think to say. She drew a deep breath and nibbled
her sandwich, though her hunger had suddenly fled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m</i>
delusional?” Tami chortled. “I think you’re just a bit confused, Ava, but
you’ll figure things out soon enough. See you later, Nick. Happy Valentine’s
Day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As Ava
watched Tami go, she imagined her universe spinning out of control, sweeping
her into a tumult. She fought against the current. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She didn’t have time for
this confusing turn of events. After all, she had a list full of much more
important things to tackle—like making sure the Valentine’s Day bash went off
without a hitch.</span></div>
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<strong>~~~~~</strong> </div>
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<em>Thanks for joining in the fun with this sneak peek at Beyond the Storm (Honeysuckle Cove #2). Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a free copy. The winner will be announced on Monday, June 5. Good luck!</em></h3>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-13243649506494238902017-05-22T00:00:00.000-05:002017-05-22T00:00:27.896-05:00Week #21: Flirting with Danger by Wendy Davy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Flirting-Danger-Amore-Romance-Enjoyment-ebook/dp/B01MXWYH1A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489514207&sr=8-1&keywords=flirting+with+danger+wendy+davy" target="_blank">Flirting with Danger</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;">As a repossession specialist, Gavin Sykes has the
means to legally and morally do what he does best–take things that aren't his.
He thrives on repossessing high-end merchandise, hoping to atone for his
shadowy past. But, even with all his experience, he never could have
anticipated the future that awaits him.<br />
<br />
When Sabrina Grady is hired to expedite the repossession process, she finally
has the means to fulfill a promise she made long ago. New to the trade, what
she lacks in experience she more than makes up for with courage, determination,
and sheer willpower. While she expects Gavin to be a fierce competitor, she
never could have anticipated his unwavering resolve or his intense desire to
protect her.<br />
<br />
Caught in a game of cat-and-mouse, Gavin and Sabrina must choose between
seeking the thrill of the chase and seeking each other</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><em>1st Chapter:</em></o:p></span></h3>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Clearwater, Florida <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin Sykes stilled as the low, steady hum of
twin jet engines vibrated the air. He set down his wrench and stepped away from
the Skyhawk. He swiped grease from his palms and allowed a slow smile to spread
across his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Well,
isn’t that something? Your plan might actually work." Rusty smoothed
fingers along his graying moustache, a hint of admiration in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Of course it will." Gavin had been meticulous
in his efforts and had left nothing to chance. He strode across the airplane
hangar to join Rusty in the massive, open doorway. A slight breeze disrupted
the summer’s humid air, cooling his damp forehead as he scanned the cloudless
sky. He caught a glint of silver as the Cessna Citation approached the landing
strip. Gavin appreciated the pilot’s skilled hand as the sleek jet sliced
through the air, steady and unwavering in its descent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Could
be cutting it close landing here," Rusty commented. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"The
Citation has plenty of space to land. It’s the taking off that could be
dicey." Gavin hadn’t flown such a luxurious plane yet, but had enough
experience piloting various aircraft to know the challenges of maneuvering a
private jet around a small airstrip. He’d taken that, among many other factors
into consideration before making arrangements. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I’m
surprised you convinced him to land here at all."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With Gavin’s long list of contacts, finding
the plane’s location had been almost too easy. He’d actually been disappointed
the hunt had ended with a few phone calls—until he’d decided he would take
things a step further, see if he could get the plane to come to him. And, he
had. A sense of satisfaction coursed through his veins. "Given enough
incentive, people will agree to just about anything." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rusty tucked
hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "How much money did
you offer this guy for a chance to fly his plane, anyway?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Didn’t
specify. All I told him was that I could take care of his overdue
payments."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>" That
may be true, but I don’t think he understood exactly how you plan to eradicate
his debt."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"That’s
what I’m counting on."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin had
been careful to remain as honest as possible. He did want to fly the plane. In fact,
he’d spent the better part of a week daydreaming about it. Although he enjoyed
flying his single engine Skyhawk, the sensible four-seater couldn’t compare to
a luxurious ten million dollar jet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You have the repossession orders close
by?" Rusty cast a glance over his shoulder toward the makeshift office
tucked in the hangar’s corner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I know
exactly where the papers are." The desk might look a mess, but he kept
everything in a specific place. "I called the authorities earlier. They’re
fully informed of what’s happening. Even if Malcolm Foster calls 911, they
won’t interfere." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Maybe
the police should be here just in case."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I don’t anticipate any real
threat."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Exactly how do you think Foster will
react when you announce you’re repossessing his jet instead of taking it for a
joy ride over the Everglades?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I’m not
worried."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if the young,
self-made millionaire put up a fight, Gavin had been in enough brawls; he could
hold his own. The jet engine’s roar prevented further conversation as the plane
landed and taxied toward the hangar. The thrill Gavin had been seeking hit him
full on; the adrenaline rush, the satisfaction of righting a wrong. Perhaps if
he repossessed enough expensive machines he could atone for the damage he’d
done in his rebellious youth. Then again, nothing could change the past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin
absently ran calloused fingers over the tattooed flames imprinted on his right
shoulder—what had been an act of defiance had turned into a permanent reminder
of the path he’d once chosen. He shivered in spite of the heat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank You, Father for saving me from what
could’ve been.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rusty gave
one of his knowing glances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin didn’t feel like justifying his actions;
past or present. He waited until the Citation rolled to a stop on the tarmac
and the pilot cut the engines. "I know what you’re going to say, so
don’t." He respected the man, would lay down his life for him, but some
things were best left unsaid. If Rusty wondered why Gavin chose to live life on
the edge, he’d have to keep guessing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Is it that terrible that I want to see
my son live long enough to give me grandchildren?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin let out
a sigh. "Rusty..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"When
are you going to start calling me Dad again? It has been years."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin tensed.
It had been well over a decade. But, he didn’t have time to think on it now;
Malcolm Foster was about to emerge from the plane. "Did I ever tell you
your timing stinks?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rusty chuckled. "About every day."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Lot of good it does." Gavin
grumbled, but in spite of his harsh tone, he enjoyed the bantering. Sparring
with Rusty kept life entertaining. Gavin leaned a shoulder against the hangar’s
concrete wall and crossed his ankles. The Citation’s fifty foot wingspan
stretched nearly as wide as the runway. Crisp red, white and blue streaks decorated
the silver fuselage, giving the plane a patriotic look. The jet in its entirety
was a fine-tuned work of art. Gavin could hardly wait to slide into the
cockpit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The cooling
afternoon breeze stilled, and Rusty took a step back out of the sun’s hot rays.
"You really do love this, don’t you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did. And, he was glad Rusty was there to be
a part of it. The jet’s door opened. A staircase lowered. A man, short on
stature but not lacking in style exited the plane. His suit and tie spoke of
wealth and influence. His arrogant stride overcame his youthful appearance as
he descended the stairs and stepped onto the sweltering tarmac. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Thought
he’d be taller," Rusty observed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin had
imagined the same, but didn’t comment as a flash of movement within the plane
caught his attention. A redhead with long, lean legs stepped out. She wore
rhinestone dotted high heels and an eye-catching dress. Gavin took in the
shapely figure, appreciating every curve. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Did you
know about Foster’s…guest?" Rusty glanced toward Gavin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He hadn’t.
She made her way down the stairs, adjusted designer sunglasses and tucked a
hand into Foster’s awaiting arm. She giggled, and her flirtatious laughter
sprinkled the air. Gavin didn’t know where she’d come from, but he did know
Foster had left Miami without any guests on board. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Must’ve stopped somewhere along the way
and picked her up." Although she appeared harmless, her unexpected
presence could cause some disruption—especially if he kept focusing on her
instead of Foster. Gavin absently rubbed his tattoo, forcing a smile as they
approached. A mixture of expensive cologne and flowery perfume surrounded him
as the couple sauntered into the doorway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Welcome
to Clearwater." <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin shook Malcolm
Foster’s extended hand and nodded toward the woman. "I’m Gavin
Sykes." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rusty stepped
forward and shook Foster’s hand next. "Glad you’ve arrived safely."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Just as planned." Foster looked
around the hangar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin lounged
against the wall. "Quite a beauty you have there."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman’s white-toothed smile widened and
she tossed her wavy hair over her shoulder. She all but purred as she snuggled
beside Foster. "Thank you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin gave her a pointed look. "I meant
the jet."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her smile faltered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Please excuse my son. Sometimes he has a
one track mind." Rusty took up the woman’s hand and held it between his
palms. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Have we met before? You
look familiar."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shrugged. "I get that a lot." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rusty
released her, and Foster draped an arm across her shoulder. "She’s an
actress."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I’ll bet," Gavin muttered under his
breath. In spite of her fair skin, no freckles sprinkled her nose or cheeks—odd
for a redhead. Perhaps she’d had them surgically removed. She cast a
narrow-eyed glance toward him, but kept her sunglasses in place. Gavin looked
past her. The pilot had yet to exit the plane. He didn’t want to confiscate the
aircraft until it was empty. He considered ways to delay. "I bet the
temperature is near one-hundred degrees today. Would either of you care for a
soda?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Do you have diet?" The woman
fiddled with fire-red fingernails. She stifled a yawn as if bored. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Sorry,
sweetheart. We only drink the real stuff."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She tilted
her head and peeked over dark lenses. Her tight smile looked forced. "No
thanks."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin dismissed her, but something niggled at
his conscience and he returned his gaze. She removed her sunglasses. Sea-green
eyes held not only defiance, but something he hadn’t expected—intelligence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You
know, it is rude to stare."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Just appreciating God’s handiwork."
She was an incredibly attractive woman. But of course, she already knew that.
"But, I prefer blondes."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"How unlucky for them."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the answer he expected. Gavin couldn’t
help but smile. It wasn’t often a woman surprised him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I found her first." Foster chimed
in. "I’ve got dibs."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dibs? Either Gavin was getting older, or the
younger generation was getting younger. Malcolm Foster could not have just said
that. The woman rolled her eyes, and in spite of himself, Gavin began to like
her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Better get
back on track, he did have a plane to repossess. Gavin pivoted and headed
toward the office. The sectioned off area held a desk, two chairs, a futon and
file cabinets. The furniture didn’t match, but he didn’t care. The place was
functional. He grabbed three sodas from a small fridge and returned to the
group. He handed a can to Rusty and one to Foster as the two conversed. He
popped the lid on his drink and took a sip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman stepped toward the Skyhawk and
peered at the open engine compartment. He’d been replacing parts for the past
two weeks and tools lay scattered about. She lifted a screwdriver, inspected it
and shook her head. Gavin was proud of his plane, even if it was in pieces. He
ambled toward her, prepared to defend his pride and joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"It’s small, but it does the job."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Uh huh." She gave him a sidelong glance.
"If size doesn’t matter, why do you want to fly Malcolm’s plane? Or, can’t
you get yours in the air?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"My plane flies fine." He patted the
bright yellow fuselage. "It just needs some TLC now and then."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her brows rose. She glanced over his six-foot-two
inch frame as if he wouldn’t know tenderness if it hit him square in the face.
"Well, good luck with that." She turned and lifted her voice. "Malcolm,
darling. I’m melting in this heat. I’m going back to the plane." She took
a step away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin wasn’t
finished with her yet. He did have a gentler side, even if he didn’t show it
very often. "I didn’t catch your name."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pivoted. "You didn’t ask."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I’m asking now."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Does it matter?" A slight smile
lifted her lips as she gestured toward Foster. "He’s already called dibs,
remember?" She sashayed away, hips gliding side to side as if she’d spent
hours practicing. She stopped long enough to give Foster a peck on the cheek.
"Catch you later." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin’s
irritation spiraled. If he had to toss out the redhead and the pilot before
commandeering the plane, so be it. He might even enjoy it. But first, he had to
inform Foster that Summit International Bank had contracted him to take
possession of the jet, and then fly it to New York where it would be placed up
for auction. His commission would be in the mail within days. Then maybe he
could finish the Skyhawk’s repairs. With that thought in mind, he approached
Foster. "I’m afraid I have some bad news for you." He clapped the man
on his shoulder, not feeling one bit sorry for the jet-setter. "When I
take the Citation for a ride, you’re not coming with me."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Foster’s smile faded. "What do you
mean?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Remember those letters and phone calls
you’ve been receiving from Summit International?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young man loosened his tie. "How do
you know about that?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"That
plane"—Gavin pointed toward the jet—"is no longer yours."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Foster paled. "Y-you can’t take my
property." He edged toward the tarmac. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin
straightened to his full height and stepped between Foster and the doorway.
"Rusty. Mind grabbing the orders for me? They’re on the right side of the
desk next to the paperclips."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rusty stepped
away, rifled around. "There’s an unopened envelope from the bank."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin had forgotten about the correspondence
he’d received last week, and had yet to open it. "Not that one. Look under
it." He kept his gaze on Foster. The little guy might be armed. Yeah, it
was a stretch, but he’d been surprised before. The scar on his left bicep
served as a reminder every time he began to feel secure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Got it." Rusty returned and handed
over the papers. Foster glanced at the signatures, and then promptly ripped
apart the contract. "There. Now you don’t have any right to take my
jet."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really? Gavin grasped Foster’s arm. "You
didn’t actually think that was the only copy, did you?‛"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A flush
spread across the man’s face. "I suppose telling you the check’s in the
mail won’t change your mind?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"It’s
gone way beyond that now. Before you decided to destroy my property"—Gavin
glanced at the papers strewn on the concrete floor and tightened his grip on
Foster’s arm— "I might’ve been generous enough to allow you to collect
your personal belongings from the plane. As it stands everything inside is now
fair game." He thought of the woman and imagined the look on her pretty
face when she learned her rich boyfriend was broke—that alone would be worth
all his efforts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"How am
I supposed to get home?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You can catch a commercial flight."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"C-commercial?" Foster’s pale skin
turned ashen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yep. Maybe if you’re nice they’ll give
you a pack of peanuts." Gavin shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but he
was. People who thought themselves above others plucked his nerves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
Citation’s jet engines started and cut off Foster’s reply. Gavin released
Foster’s arm and strode toward the tarmac. The Citation’s stairway had been set
back into place, the doors closed. Inside the cockpit, a flash of red hair
caught his attention. Then, the wheels began to move.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What does she think she’s doing?" Gavin
stilled, dumbfounded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The woman
gave a salute as she rolled past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Uh…Gavin." Rusty appeared beside
him. "Now I remember where I’ve seen her before."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He ground his teeth. "Where?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I taught her how to fly."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You what?" Gavin’s shout echoed
throughout the hangar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What was her name? Oh, yes. Sabrina
Grady. She has a natural talent for flying. Decisive. Fearless."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"And you’re just now remembering
this?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Well, it was a couple of years ago. And,
back then she was blonde."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Foster chuckled and then doubled over with laughter.
Gavin wasn’t amused. "You said she was an actress."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"It’s true." Foster caught his
breath. "She acted like she was my pilot."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"She flew you here?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Uh huh." He got choked up again.
"Looks like we were both blindsided today."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Rusty."
Gavin growled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I’ll
call a cab."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin raked fingers through his hair and then
fisted his hands as the Citation taxied along the airstrip preparing for
takeoff. Rusty had an unmatched reputation as a stellar instructor. Even so,
with the limited runway space, the woman had better know what she was doing or
she’d be crashing into the field in about thirty seconds. Gavin held his
breath. Sure enough, after gaining adequate speed she lifted the plane off with
less than fifty yards to spare. Once at a high enough altitude she banked
right, flying toward the Gulf of Mexico. Gavin stared into the sky long moments
after the jet’s sounds faded. Sabrina Grady had just stolen the plane he’d
intended to repossess. But, why? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He ground his
teeth and swiped an arm across his damp forehead as he strode toward Foster. "Where
is she going?" He grabbed the man by his collar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I don’t
know." All lingering traces of his smile blanked from his expression.
"I never met her before today."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin tugged Foster closer. "You said she
was your pilot."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"My management company sends different
pilots depending upon who’s available at the time. She was available
today."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"She seemed awfully cozy with you, for
just having met her. She called you darling."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What can I say? I have a way with the
ladies."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Then why did she take your plane?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Foster
disengaged himself from Gavin’s grip. "Why don’t you ask her?" He
turned and wasted no time scrambling toward the parking lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You can be sure I will." Gavin
grumbled as he stalked toward his desk. "I’d call the police if I didn’t
want to handcuff her myself."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rusty ambled close. "Maybe we should open
the mail from the bank? Do you mind?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Knock yourself out." Gavin absently
waved a hand as he plopped onto his chair. "Where does she think she’s going
to hide an airplane anyway?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rusty didn’t answer as he tore open the letter
and scanned the words. "Ah...this explains a lot."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin’s patience thinned. "What are you
talking about?" He picked up an ink pen and tapped it on the desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Summit
International is expediting the repossession process. They’ve hired another
specialist."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He stood so
fast his chair tumbled over. "They what?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rusty tossed the letter on the desk. "Read
for yourself." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The first
paragraph explained it all. "You mean to tell me I’m competing with this
redhead for my commissions?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I’m not telling you." Rusty tapped
the paper. "Summit International is telling you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gavin suppressed a curse, smashed the letter
into a tight ball and tossed it toward a miniature basketball hoop positioned
over the trash can. The paper hit the rim, bounced off and landed on the floor.
Great.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Besides," Rusty continued, "she’s
not really a redhead. She’s a blonde."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gavin righted
his chair. "Is that supposed to make a difference?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You mean other than the fact you told
her you prefer blondes?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cringed. Yeah. He had admitted that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Of course, you could be a gentleman. Let
her get away—"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You’re kidding, right?" Gavin
crossed his arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Guess that’s out of the question."
Rusty shrugged. "So what are you going to do?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I’m going to find Sabrina Grady and have
a little chat with her." He paced from one end of the office to the other,
anticipation growing with each step. "After I’m done, she’ll think twice
before crossing me again."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I wouldn’t count on it." Rusty
smoothed fingers along his moustache. "From what I remember about her, and
from what I’ve seen here today, I believe you may have just met your
match."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yeah, well. We’ll just have to see about
that."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>~~~~~</strong></span></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>Thanks for stopping by for this sneak peek of Flirting with Danger. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a free copy. The winner will be announced on Monday, May 29. Good luck!</em></span></h3>
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</div>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-37906021312608663902017-05-15T00:00:00.000-05:002017-05-17T10:53:42.071-05:00Week 20: Embracing Hope by Janell Butler Wojtowicz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Embracing-Hope-Janell-Butler-Wojtowicz/dp/1988422043/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494777695&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=Embracing+Hope+by+Janelle+Butler" target="_blank">Embracing Hope</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Christian college dean Drew McKinley mourns
his dead wife and still wears his wedding ring. He stumbles on a desperate
journey to understand God’s motives for her tragic death. Crossing his perilous
path is Allison, a graduate student and new employee in the dean’s office. Even
as she deals with financial hardships, she recognizes Drew’s unresolved grief
from her own loss. Putting up a roadblock is Chris Whitney, the handsome but
egotistical student senate president. He carries the secret burden of a
dysfunctional family and a below-the-surface temper. The road Drew must
navigate is fraught with career upheaval, a reawakening heart, substance and
domestic abuse, a violent assault, and the struggle for forgiveness and
restoration. Will Drew finish his journey to embrace the hope God offers, the
love Allison shares, and the guidance Chris needs, or will he turn his back on
all three with catastrophic consequences?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<h3>
Chapter 1:</h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Drew
McKinley twisted the gold wedding band around and around his finger then made a
tight fist. He wandered over to his office window and stared at the scurry of activity
on the Riley University quad. The scene brought a spark of eagerness that
almost overshadowed the sadness clinging to him. Yet the low gray clouds and
drizzle wrapped him in a drowsy blanket, and he closed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s a new school year, Lord. I need
patience, strength, and understanding.” He stopped, not knowing what else to
pray for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When he opened his eyes, they rested on
the large, white gazebo in the middle of the green expansive quad. His heart
thumped at the memory of kissing his wife, Kendra, in front of over two
thousand cheering college students when he was introduced as their new dean
last September. Had it only been a year? It felt like a lifetime. At times, a
horrible dream. Would he ever wake up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A car horn jolted Drew, and he gazed at
the disorganized procession of cars, pickups, motorcycles, and bicycles
parading onto the suburban Omaha, Nebraska campus. Within minutes, hundreds of
students, ranging from eighteen-year-old, wide-eyed freshmen to forty-something
seminarians, fanned out among the stately red brick Colonial Revival buildings.
Inside Williams Administration Hall, the robust aroma of hazelnut coffee from
RU Grounded, the coffee shop on the first level, wafted into Drew’s second
floor office. Youthful male and female voices echoed up and down the hallways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sharon Abbott, the assistant dean, hummed
“This is the Day the Lord Hath Made” in the outer office. Drew peered out and
saw her polishing the top of the desk intended for the new communications
specialist. At age fifty-five, Sharon had as much energy as the students.
Today, Drew needed that energy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Allison starts work today, remember?”
Sharon asked as he emerged from his office. “I hoped you’d get to meet her
first, but you were tied up with freshmen orientation. Did you read through her
resume?” Still holding the can of polish and dust cloth, she scrutinized him
with a protectiveness that reminded him of his mother. Despite her
five-foot-two buxom stature, she had proven to be a formidable presence with
the students—and him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew nodded and shrugged on his charcoal
gray suit jacket then tightened his red and white striped tie. When Kendra had
given him the tie that first Christmas they were married, he had joked that it
looked like a candy cane. It was his favorite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“R-U ready?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Startled by the booming voice behind him,
he spun around to the cheery face of campus pastor Mitch Lindstrom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just about.” Drew misbuttoned his jacket
and with an impatient sigh re-buttoned it. The tie didn’t feel right, either,
so he started over. He would never get used to tying it himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are you OK?” Mitch’s smile dimmed and his
eyes behind the glasses registered concern, which irritated Drew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m fine.” He hesitated then returned to
his office and picked up the new Bible from the corner of his cluttered
mahogany desk. <i>Andrew Everett McKinley </i>was embossed in gold script at
the bottom of the black leather cover. It was Kendra’s last Christmas gift to
him. “What’s the student senate’s theme verse this year?” He opened the Bible,
but didn’t have a clue where to look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch’s forehead furrowed. “You’re the one
who chose it: Psalm 16:11.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew paged through the crisp pages, found
the passage, and accepting a yellow Post-It note from Sharon, marked the page
and closed the Bible. Mitch led the way out of the office suite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The two men sauntered down the cavernous
corridor of the three-story edifice and down the mahogany curved staircase.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He sensed Mitch’s scrutiny, so he squared
his shoulders and tried to look motivated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mitch broke the silence. “It’s going to be
a great year.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The inane comment from the articulate
pastor pulled a chuckle from Drew. “Can’t you think of anything better to say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes. You’ve been distracted the last
couple of weeks, and I’m worried about you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I can take care of myself,” he muttered,
glancing at his Rolex watch: seven-forty-five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know you can, but <i>are </i>you?”
Mitch asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew patted his friend on the shoulder as
they stepped outside. The sun burst through the clouds bathing the campus in
golden morning light. People streamed up the sidewalks toward Riley Community
Church greeting the two men with enthusiasm. Drew took a deep cleansing breath
of the rain freshened air and his sadness waned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
***<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Continuing an eighty-nine-year tradition,
Riley University’s two thousand undergraduate students and five hundred
graduate students gathered at eight o’clock Monday through Friday morning for
the required half hour chapel service. The first service of the year was always
a major event. Even the faculty and staff were “invited” to attend. Dr. Jacob
Sullivan, president for twenty years, would open chapel with prayer, a
traditional hymn, and motivational words inspiring enough to spur even the
laziest student to pursue excellence—for at least the first week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Allison Bennett wasn’t one of the lazy
students. As she had for five years, she sat near the front in the left
section, and listened to Dr. Sullivan. A teenage couple lost in their budding
romance cuddled and cooed beside her in the pew. She cleared her throat to get
their attention and cast them a stern look. Embarrassed, they focused on the
president.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>During the hymn, Allison sized up the day
ahead. Two classes, lunch, work, night class, home to study, call her mother, and
hopefully get to bed before midnight. She said a silent prayer once again
thanking God for the scholarship and part-time job that enabled her to enroll
in Riley’s graduate school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“R-U ready? R-U willing? R-U able?” Drew
McKinley bellowed. He punched the air with his fist and propelled his tall, lean
body up the side stairs onto the podium. The students responded with cheers,
followed by rapt attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve got twenty minutes of announcements
so there will be no sermon today.” Drew threw a comical glare at Pastor Lindstrom
seated in the dark blue upholstered deacon’s chair behind him. More cheers.
Drew didn’t stand behind the ornate mahogany pulpit, but strolled back and
forth across the edge of the podium. His rich baritone resonated throughout the
majestic sanctuary. He made five minutes’ worth of obligatory announcements
punctuated by banter about freshmen jitters and the senior countdown to
graduation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Allison observed the exuberance on the
students’ faces, but couldn’t share it. She had much more important things to
focus on than collegiate rah-rah, such as her new job. She still questioned the
purple linen blouse that her roommate Renee talked her into buying, yet the
“Buy One, Get One Half Price” deal had made it worth the investment. It was
dressier than the clothes she usually wore to class, but Renee insisted Allison
dress for the business world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And don’t wear your hair in that juvenile
ponytail,” Renee had whined, tugging on it as Allison walked out the door of
their apartment that morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Allison felt comfortable in the new black
slacks, though, and she had taken time to re-iron the perfectly aligned creases
down the legs. She hoped everything wouldn’t be too wrinkled by the time she
got to work at one o’clock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The senate selected an exceptional theme
this year. It’s <i>Journey Down the Path of Life </i>based on Psalm 16:11. ‘You
have made known to me the path of life. You will fill me with joy in Your
presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand,’” Drew read with fervor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Allison perked up at Drew’s words,
surprised to see him reading from the Bible. She didn’t recall him ever using
it in chapel last year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Consider today the first mile of your
journey. Many more miles lie ahead, some with curves, speed bumps, and detours,
but I guarantee the destination will be worth it when you follow His road map.”
He held up the Bible, a broad smile on his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A handsome face; although maybe a bit
pale. No surprise there. Drew’s gaze swept the auditorium, seeming to connect
with each person, a communication tactic Allison wished she had attained. He
obviously loved being on stage and among youth. Or was this his public façade? What
was he like off the stage? What did he go through when his wife died so
tragically? How did he handle being alone now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew’s eyes connected with hers. They
remained locked for a long second then his fingers swept through his thick wavy
dark brown hair. They exchanged smiles and Allison flushed, a rare sensation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
***<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew returned from lunch in the student
dining hall to an empty office suite. A stack of mail sat on his desk, and he shuffled
through it with disinterest. Seminars, invoices, the Chronicle of Higher
Education. More junk. He dropped into the black high-back leather chair and
reached for the phone to call the next person on his lengthy list, the athletic
director.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excuse me, Mr. McKinley,” a smooth alto
voice said from the doorway. “I’m Allison Bennett, the new communications specialist.
I’m here to see Ms. Abbott, but she’s not in her office.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew stood, motioned her in, and grasped
her hand in welcome before he realized this was the girl—no, the woman— who
caught his attention at chapel. He quickly let go of her hand and spoke with
more enthusiasm than necessary, “Please, call me Drew!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lush chestnut hair cascaded in gentle
waves to just below her shoulders. Wispy bangs brushed dark eyebrows that
framed green eyes. A faint yet warm smile graced her lips. He had seen her
before: in church, the dining hall, and with Sharon briefly last week. But she
was among the dozens of students he had never formally met. Too many students.
Never enough time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It looks like Sharon is literally out to
lunch.” He gestured for her to take a seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She placed her worn blue backpack on the
floor and eased into the guest chair in front of Drew’s desk, posture straight,
chin high, confidence in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We’re happy to have you with us, uh, ….” <i>What’s
her name?</i> <i>Angela? Andrea?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Allison.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, Allison. Sharon has been inundated
since her last assistant left to get married. She’s relieved to have found
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And I’m relieved she hired me,” Allison
replied. “I almost gave up on grad school, but thanks to this job and the Hope Scholarship
I got at the last minute, I’m here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A flutter in his heart at the mention of
the scholarship distracted Drew for a moment, but he refocused on Allison. “The
new one-year full-ride scholarship? Congratulations.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s a God Thing, that’s for sure. My
goal is to get my master’s degree in three semesters, since this is my sixth
year at Riley.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Six years? Then you must have attended
part-time?” Drew asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Allison tucked a lock of hair behind her
left ear displaying a small silver hoop earring. “Yes, I did. It’s hard for
students like me to graduate in four years because we have to get jobs— sometimes
more than one at a time—to avoid overwhelming student loans. Fortunately, I got
a lot of scholarships, supplemented them with jobs, and had a full-time temp
job at the Omaha World Herald this summer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew settled back in his chair and looked
Allison square in the eyes. They were more than just green. They were a
striking emerald reminding him of the necklace he had given Kendra for her
twenty-fifth birthday. He gulped the memory away. Would the flashbacks ever
end?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m not sure how familiar you are with
our student life team,” he began. “In addition to Sharon, Aaron Coffman is director
of residence life. The front office staff manages activities, daily student interaction,
and administrative coordination. We don’t oversee the graduate or seminary programs,
which is a good thing. Another five hundred students would overwhelm us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew’s desk phone jangled and seeing the
caller ID he reached for it. “Just a minute. It’s the president so I need to
get this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As he listened to Dr. Sullivan’s kudos and
observations on the first chapel, Drew noticed Allison’s glittering eyes sweep
the office. He was relieved he had taken his spare suit to the executive gym in
the lower level that morning; otherwise it would be hanging on the coat rack.
No use having a new employee confirm the rumor that had been circulating the campus
for seven months. His office had become his den, sometimes his bedroom, thanks to
the comfortable leather sofa against a wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today, a red and black RU afghan lay
decorously draped across the back. Blue and white University of Connecticut
accent pillows rested on either end. Assorted books and thick black binders sat
on polished floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves on one wall. There were photos
of his parents, casual shots of his brother and two sisters with their
families, and the photo of him and Kendra taken on a Maui beach two summers
before. His favorite artwork, a New England summer landscape painting that
reminded him of home, hung on another wall. A door in a far corner of the room connected
to a hall that led to the gym and the building’s back exit, which came in handy
for quick get-aways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As the call ended, Drew noticed Allison’s
eyes fix on the empty red blown-glass bowl in the middle of the oblong conference
table. Kendra had always kept the bowl filled with peanut M&Ms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The student life division deals with the
social, cultural, community-building, volunteer, and leadership aspects of the undergraduate
students’ time here at Riley,” Drew said increased volume to regain her attention.
“We engage students through organizations, events and activities. Thanks to
some effective committees and a solid student senate, we’ve got an outstanding
program that many colleges emulate. In fact, Riley is thought of as a Christian
Ivy League university.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A dimple popped on the right cheek of
Allison’s face as a broader smile emerged. “That’s on the home page of the website,
the student handbook, and all admissions material.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re observant,” he chuckled. “We’ll
keep busy this year. We have a new student senate president, three clubs have
been chartered, and enrollment is up seven percent. If we’re not careful, we’ll
outgrow the campus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Be thankful for that.” Allison stared him
down. “Many Christian colleges are struggling with declining enrollment. Some
have closed. Others are getting so expensive that students can’t afford to
attend unless they work more hours than they’re in class. Some colleges are becoming
elitist because not even middle-class students can afford them. But I’m sure
you’re aware of all that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her frankness surprised Drew and he slid
his chair up to the desk. “Do you think Riley is elitist, Allison?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not yet, but it might come to that if
tuition keeps rising and the administration loses touch with the students’
needs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i>Whoa! Did she just tell me off? </i>He
rested his forearms on the desktop, weaving his fingers together. As much as he
would like to discuss this with her more, he knew it would end in a juggernaut.
Better move on. “I think I’ve seen you at campus church.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes. We’ve attended since we came here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We?” His glance drifted to Allison’s bare
left hand lying on her lap. A small black-banded watch wrapped around her
wrist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My roommate and me, Renee Landers. She
graduated in May with a business administration degree and is assistant manager
at a boutique in Oak View Mall.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sharon dashed over the threshold into
Drew’s office. “Good, you two are finally getting acquainted. Sorry to be late,
Allison. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” Allison rose, swept up her
backpack, and again extended her hand to Drew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He gave it an extra grasp. “Welcome to the
student life department, Allison.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After they left, Drew sifted through the
files on his desk to locate Allison’s resume. He had scanned it earlier, but
didn’t remember anything beyond the bachelor’s degree in communication. He
pulled up her student records on the network and perused the basics. Born in
Nebraska, father deceased, no siblings. Until her senior year in high school,
she attended Linden School District, in Morris, Nebraska. She graduated valedictorian
from Prairie Ridge Community School in Iowa. She came to Riley a year after
high school graduation<i>.</i> Commuter student. Twenty-five years old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drew continued reading with increased
interest. Allison had received numerous prestigious scholarships, maintained a
3.9 GPA as an undergrad, and had a full class load this semester in the
academically rigorous Business Communications graduate program. <i>Impressive.
But how can she take five courses, including a night</i> <i>class, and work
part-time? She’ll burn out before Halloween.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He recalled Allison’s tone about balancing
work and studies under financial strain and felt as if he had been scolded by
his father<i>.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><em></em></o:p></span> </div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i>I
am not out of touch.</i></span><br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">~~~~~</span></h3>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<em>Thanks for visiting. I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into Embracing Hope. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing and remember to check back next Monday, when the winner will be announced.</em></h4>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-1346897031305909682017-05-08T00:00:00.000-05:002017-05-08T00:00:12.265-05:00Week #19: A Touch of Suspense by Kathryn J. Bain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VtvF1eWDojpdO17s48TN7oGlbpzt2YmH82UwDuWhBIduAWDSlwkuLlqBoKnpwhVgLaQNBjMPlax3RdQB7cmgTK2ykn5fvP133P5lAG4CdgUG2iiYNUyh8P1QrDE9QkCcqCfevB5IA104/s1600/Atouchofsuspense.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VtvF1eWDojpdO17s48TN7oGlbpzt2YmH82UwDuWhBIduAWDSlwkuLlqBoKnpwhVgLaQNBjMPlax3RdQB7cmgTK2ykn5fvP133P5lAG4CdgUG2iiYNUyh8P1QrDE9QkCcqCfevB5IA104/s320/Atouchofsuspense.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Touch-Suspense-Volumes-Morgan-Short-ebook/dp/B01N80NUI8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1488574522&sr=8-1&keywords=Kathryn+J.+Bain" target="_blank">A Touch of Suspense</a></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Visitor</span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(The First in the KT Morgan Series)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“The Tension builds on each page.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">When Christine Westman bumps against a stranger in a Jacksonville supermarket, the killer gives her only one month to live. He moves into Christine’s walk-in closet and watches her nightly preparing for the day of her death. Can Christine survive when midnight hits and The Visitor comes calling?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Small Town Terror</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(The Second in the KT Morgan Series)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Winner of the 2016 Independent Digital Awards for Short Suspense</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“This gripping story didn’t disappoint.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: rgb(253, 253, 253); line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Strangers are a rare commodity in Bisby, a small town fading away in a quiet corner of North Carolina. Liz Corman runs the town’s diner while her husband Billy tends to the auto shop next door. When KT Morgan’s vehicle breaks down, Liz reluctantly offers the intriguing stranger the use of their spare room. The drama that unfolds with KT’s arrival is nothing compared to what awaits Liz and the town folk, as three men head their way with revenge and murder on their agenda.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Reunion</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> (The Third in the KT Morgan Series)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">…</span></i><i><span style="background: white; font-family: "traditional arabic" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">another edge of your seat, hanging by your fingernails, suspenseful offering</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Twelve-year-old Becky Sidleman thinks things might be looking up when she bumps into KT Morgan in the small town of Marshland, Indiana. However, two men on their way will show Becky that</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">sometimes excitement isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></span> </div>
<h3 style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>1st Chapter:</em></span></h3>
<h3 style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em></em></span> </h3>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br />
The Visitor<br />
</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<h3>
</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">March 31<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">11:56 p.m.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">A sliver of the Dallas moonlight sliced across
Suzie’s cheek. Such an image with her dark hair curled around her shoulder. I
flexed my fist with visions of my fingers twisted through that thick mane. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Standing over her. Waiting. Always waiting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Suzie reminded me of my first one. She too wore only
a pair of panties to bed. As I recalled, her underwear read “Bite Me”. So I
did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Why do you smile, Suzie? Are you anticipating me? I
often heard her moan out in her sleep. I pretended it was me she was thinking
about. But deep down, I knew the truth. Maybe she was dreaming of a hero coming
to save her. Then he made love to her with all the fury of a madman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Too bad there’d be no heroes tonight. And the only
fury would be mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I glanced at the clock. It was just a matter of
minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">What could I expect? There would be promises made.
Promises she’d never keep if I didn’t have the advantage. How much pleading
would she do for me to stop? Did she honestly think I’d quit when I was having
so much fun? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">And like most of the stupid girls in the past, Suzie
wouldn’t have the guts to fight back. I’d never be able to continue if she
tried to stop me. With the thin walls between each apartment, it’d be too easy
for the neighbors to hear. But little doubt, she’d never consider it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">That was par for the course with women like her.
Never thinking of other options. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">So many things she had never considered this past
month. Not even the fact that someone could be so close, watching her. Pretty
things just don’t know how to pay attention to anything but themselves. Too
busy worrying about how they look to notice the dust on the floor beneath the
attic access door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">The only thing that had garnered Suzie’s full
attention this past month was the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. She
couldn’t pass by without looking. Fools. All of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">However, I should thank the person who created the
walk-in closet. Such a wonderful room for watching you change your clothes.
There’s nothing I like more than a girl with no tan lines. Each day for a month
now, I had pretended Suzie was putting on a show just for me. Some evenings, it
took all my power not to reach out and touch her skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I jerked my hand back before it reached Suzie’s bare
leg. I was too close to mess up now. Within minutes, she would be mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">What would be my favorite part? Feeling her tremble
beneath me or the muffled cries? Would she whimper like the blond in Phoenix or
lie there like that sweet Georgia peach? No matter. They were all the same with
the tears raining down their cheeks as I stretched the duct tape over their
mouths. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Look at her sleeping, like every night since I’d
arrived. Thinking she was safely tucked away in her bed. Never realizing I
stood over by, wanting her. Then I’d disappear into the closet to prepare
myself with her panties in ways that would make her cringe if she knew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">And how did you enjoy our little game of
hide-and-seek, Suzie dear? She never suspected someone actually had been moving
her things around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Such an idiot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I couldn’t have been more obvious without stepping
out of the shadows. If I opened her skull, would she even have a brain in
there? Laughing and telling all her friends she had a ghost move in. Will you
find me so humorous when you discover the truth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">The toy, sharpened and ready to play, was getting
heavy in my hand. Anticipation chilled my body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Tick. Tick. How irritating time was when it moved so
slowly. But the longer I delayed my fun, the better it always was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">The glowing white numbers on the nightstand clock finally
bounced over to twelve. Play time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I leaned close to Suzie’s face. “Wake up, Sleeping
Beauty.” Her breath caressed my lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm. What?” Her eyes popped open. From dream to
nightmare in seconds. Her gasp turned me on even more. Her bare thigh was silky
beneath my palm. The zipper on my jeans tightened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“Now’s the time.” I stepped back and smiled down on
her. Why hurry? I had all night to enjoy myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Suzie scooted up toward the headboard, causing the
light through the curtain to move to her throat. She was pretty and knew she
could have any man. And she didn’t want me. My grip tightened on the knife. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I swiped my hand over my mouth to keep from
salivating, thinking about what I’d do to her. I walked over and turned on the
light in the closet. A glow now framed her body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">She swallowed hard. Her hand reached over and pulled
the extra pillow across her body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I laughed. Like I hadn’t seen all she had to offer
already. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“You won’t be needing that.” I tore her protection
away and tossed it to the floor. My tongue stroked my lips. I spun the knife in
my hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“Please. Don’t.” She bent her trembling legs up to
her chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">She would definitely do for now. Then in a month or
two, I’d find another idiot to play with. And the police would never find me.
I’d always be one step ahead. Fools. All of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“Who … who are you?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">I knew she wouldn’t remember. She shouldn’t have
turned me down for a dance at the club. Too many others gave her their
attention. But tonight I would get what I wanted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Leaning to her ear, I whispered, “I’m your ghost.” I
paused for effect. “Boo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">Her arm trembled beneath my hand. Her hair smelled
of apple shampoo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 115%;">“What do you want?” Her voice shook. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">I chuckled. Why do
they always ask when they already know?</span><br />
<h3 align="center">
~~~~~</h3>
<h3>
<em>Thanks for joining in the fun with this sneak peek of A Touch of Suspense. Check back on Monday, May 15th when we will announce the winner.</em></h3>
</span><br />
<h4 style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</h4>
<h3>
</h3>
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</h3>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </span></h3>
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</h1>
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</h3>
Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-47385383156259898392017-05-01T00:00:00.000-05:002017-05-01T00:00:19.091-05:00Week #18: Welsh Wildfire by Clare Revell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN36dAnr8JoJQ7THuQt199xY7GSnxzZ9tUVkevrd02MjPgVyou1x59f69fUl6W88763n0DHDavMLzexhGifSWQE86yj0V1gRzOaVxlrtzcG0_3c5PQMWM8J3uRR4tgBh1dbfmHwE7-Bbif/s1600/WelshWildfire_w11990_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN36dAnr8JoJQ7THuQt199xY7GSnxzZ9tUVkevrd02MjPgVyou1x59f69fUl6W88763n0DHDavMLzexhGifSWQE86yj0V1gRzOaVxlrtzcG0_3c5PQMWM8J3uRR4tgBh1dbfmHwE7-Bbif/s1600/WelshWildfire_w11990_300.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Welsh-Wildfire-Passport-Romance-Revell-ebook/dp/B01J4KUM2W/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1490297132&sr=8-1&keywords=Welsh+Wildfire" target="_blank">Welsh Wildfire</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Pastor
Josh Wilson is running from his past and from God. He takes a construction job
and volunteers as a retained firefighter in hopes that the small Welsh town of
Betws-y-Coed will be a refuge and hiding place...but God has other plans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">GP
Jess Thomas fights the instant attraction when an injured construction worker
comes into her surgery. A native Scot with a U.S. passport is a mystery, but
there is something else about the man that keeps drawing her to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">As
summer heats up, and the wildfires draw closer, can Josh overcome the past and
move on? Or will he lose everything before his new life has begun?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Excerpt:</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span> </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Jess
shook her head and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Big strong bloke
like you isn't afraid of a little needle, surely?” she asked, making light of
the situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“Aye,
maybe I am,” he drawled, sounding Scottish again this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“So
close your eyes and think of home,” she told him. “I won't be long. Small
scratch first as I'm going to numb your hand. That's an intriguing accent you
have. You're not from around here, are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“No.
I was born in Scotland, but spent my life all over. Most of it in the States.”
He stared at the ceiling as she stitched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“Sounds
like a fascinating story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“Not
really.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Jess
finished with a bandage. “All done.” She scribbled quickly, grateful the local
pharmacist could read her handwriting. It was a standing joke that all doctor's
handwriting was illegible and hers certainly was. “Here's a prescription for
antibiotics and painkillers. When was your last tetanus shot?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“Five
weeks, three days ago.” The answer came back firmly and swiftly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“That's
very precise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“It
isn't something I'm likely to forget in a hurry.” His gaze swung from the
ceiling back to her face. “They use needles in the States, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“OK.
Go and see Nerys on the desk, and she'll give you the forms to fill in to
register you here. Make an appointment for next week to have the stiches
removed. Either with one of the nurses or with me, depending whom you'd rather
see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“Thanks,
Doc.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“You're
welcome. Take care now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Jess
cleared up for the next patient. Her pulse pounded, her chest tightened, her
stomach was doing somersaults and her head throbbed. Anyone would think she was
in love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Pfft</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">. Jess shook her head. She could give herself several very
good reasons why love was not a good idea. She marked them off on her fingers
as she listed them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">“One–he's
a patient. Two–you've only just met him. Three–he's a patient. Four–he isn't
going to be here long. No one ever stays here long. Five–he's a patient.
Six–love at first sight doesn't exist. And seven and most importantly– He. Is.
A. Patient.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span> </div>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><em>Thanks for joining in the fun with this sneak peek at Welsh Wildfire. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, May 8th.</em></span></h4>
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</div>
<o:p><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-52596167690198545912017-04-24T00:00:00.000-05:002017-04-24T00:00:15.757-05:00Week #17: Enigma of Fire by Marilyn Leach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1ySwdaj33bxL8x-JrpADUnt93F37zf-9lT6m8-YyQfehIidIkILCKgqO3y-KKWRQOLw3Mi8-n88NG2q9m9pnB-fCf8Rq11gxb5AdqhxM7xfpdXGjA-lYCYnc5cWKsdypL5uG5eHHPBGo/s1600/EnigmaOfFire_h12129_680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1ySwdaj33bxL8x-JrpADUnt93F37zf-9lT6m8-YyQfehIidIkILCKgqO3y-KKWRQOLw3Mi8-n88NG2q9m9pnB-fCf8Rq11gxb5AdqhxM7xfpdXGjA-lYCYnc5cWKsdypL5uG5eHHPBGo/s320/EnigmaOfFire_h12129_680.jpg" width="193" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia";"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Marilyn-Leach/e/B005H8KYVK" target="_blank">Enigma of Fire</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As the season of Pentecost approaches, Berdie Elliott's husband, the vicar for the Aidan Kirkwood village prepares for the Whitsun Long Weekend Regatta boat race. But one amongst them is in a van explosion that puts Berdie right in it. The shock of the blast sends her whirling and when the Yard arrives, fingers point to a profiled suspect that ignites village fears. Who would think that business vans, one heroic dog, mistaken identity, an evocative book, and enduring friendships could help solve the crime? Berdie must recapture her investigative brilliance, sift the ashes, and ascertain who is responsible. Will the enigma of fire be laid bare? This mystery sizzles.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<h3>
<em>1st Chapter:</em></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">“Sometimes it feels the sweeping hands of that clock are wrapped round my
toes and squeezing.”<br />
<br />
The kitchen aroma of a well-prepared meal tickled Berdie Elliott’s nose as she
placed decorated picnic ware in the ample food hamper, whilst aching feet
reminded her that she hadn’t had a sit-down since early this morning.<br />
<br />
“I tell you,” she said to her friend, Lillie Foxworth, who added folded linens
to the plates, “sometimes it takes all one possesses to keep up.”<br />
<br />
“True,” Lillie mumbled.<br />
<br />
“When I followed my dear Hugh into the pastorate after his military
retirement”—Berdie took a deep breath—“and I came with the same commitment of
faith and service, mind you, I hadn’t reckoned that I’d be a hostel hostess in
a small English village, racing the clock to feed the five thousand at
Whitsun.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, but remember, Berdie,” Lillie ribbed with a large grin and hazel-green
eyes dancing, “to be hospitable at all times is a grace. You could be
entertaining angels unawares.”<br />
<br />
Berdie waggled a fork toward her friend. “Night wanderings, unwelcomed pets,
demanding diets: if the guests staying here are angels, I should think their
halos have slipped slightly.”<br />
<br />
“Come now, Berdie.” Lillie took the fork from Berdie’s hand. “I’ve not noticed
five thousand, just nine people at last count, and it’s a picnic al fresco at
the lake, not the village fete.”<br />
<br />
“You’re such a stickler about minor details.”<br />
<br />
Lillie put the fork next to the others in the utensil basket and surveyed the
situation. “There’s no room in the hamper for the main dish.”<br />
<br />
“You see? Stickler for details.” Berdie chuckled and Lillie joined her. “Take
out the jar of pickled onions to make room. It’s quite clear, Lillie, where our
nattering gets us.”<br />
<br />
The sound of the vicarage front door chime sang out its plea for attention.<br />
<br />
“Oh bother,” flew from Berdie’s lips.<br />
<br />
“Ah, angels have come knocking. The word’s out all cross the heavens,” Lillie
shouted as Berdie left the kitchen. “There’s a room going spare at the vicarage
and food to be had.”<br />
<br />
Berdie chortled while she hustled through the front hall.<br />
<br />
She arrived at the pub mirror, placed just alongside the door, and glanced at
herself. Middle age had been kind to her, but she hoped her brown eyes didn’t
appear as tired as she felt at the moment. She pushed an errant piece of her
red-brown bobbed hair to its appropriate place, adjusted her tortoiseshell
glasses, wiped her hand cross the ditsy designs of her apron that covered her
more-pudgy-than-lean body, turned with steady mind for whatever may greet her,
and flung the vicarage door open.<br />
<br />
There before her stood Milton Butz, the inevitable dots of maturing adolescence
decorating his fourteen-year-old face, and behind, his tall, ginger-haired
friend, Kevin McDermott. Hardly heavenly beings.<br />
<br />
“Milton, Kevin, hello,” Berdie greeted.<br />
<br />
“That big dog is running all over the village again, Mrs. Elliott.” Milton
released a slight pant.<br />
<br />
“He’s been digging in Mrs. Hall’s herb garden, again.” Kevin’s round eyes held
an element of panic as he took a deep breath. “And he’s scary.”<br />
<br />
Berdie wanted to shout, “That annoying canine escape artist is more trouble
than he’s worth, and seeing as he belongs to retired Leftenant Commander Cedric
Royce, just one of our ‘angelic’ guests, the commander can ruddy well chase
about after it.” But instead, she offered a more refined response that was in
line with her position and wouldn’t shower the boys with her displeasure. “The
dog’s name is Sparks, and he’s quite”—Berdie searched for a constructive
word—“energetic for an animal his size and difficult to contain.”<br />
<br />
“He doesn’t seem very friendly either,” Kevin added.<br />
<br />
“He’s not a lap dog, no.”<br />
<br />
Milton’s barrel chest rose and fell—the boys had obviously rushed. “Do you want
us to collect him?”<br />
<br />
“Milty.” Kevin’s eyes grew wider, and he kicked the back of Milton’s shoe.<br />
<br />
“He’s just a dog.” Milton’s demeanor was fearless.<br />
<br />
“Thanks for the offer, lads, but I believe Leftenant Commander Royce is at the
Upland Arms enjoying a swift half. Perhaps you could fetch him and let him deal
with the beast.”<br />
<br />
“Beast?” Kevin’s cheeks flushed under the freckles.<br />
<br />
Milton looked slightly disappointed. “Are you sure you don’t want us to try to
collect Sparks?”<br />
<br />
Kevin’s eyebrows knit into a deep frown.</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<h3 align="center">
~~~~~</h3>
<h3 align="left">
<em>Thanks for joining in the fun with this sneak peak at Enigma of Fire. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. The winner will be announced on Monday, May 1.</em></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1909057713321701587.post-55655044030068170472017-04-17T00:00:00.000-05:002017-04-17T00:00:07.341-05:00Week #16: Sunrise at Honeysuckle Cove by Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw8UWNrIR-4a3Q8L__MFIMZPlL4_okVzRncRcyUWNKvKfiSoPFqv_uDW2DmXYWKh_CrU2zvRCNCzL0I0debkToTLMvu4shhNNGrhFoRz7GZIcYucpjwHngHDvTXT27Xyh4_-9mvLPbQxN/s1600/Sunrise+at+Honeysuckle+Cove+%2528%25231%2529+LJPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw8UWNrIR-4a3Q8L__MFIMZPlL4_okVzRncRcyUWNKvKfiSoPFqv_uDW2DmXYWKh_CrU2zvRCNCzL0I0debkToTLMvu4shhNNGrhFoRz7GZIcYucpjwHngHDvTXT27Xyh4_-9mvLPbQxN/s320/Sunrise+at+Honeysuckle+Cove+%2528%25231%2529+LJPG.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sunrise-Honeysuckle-Cove-Mary-Manners-ebook/dp/B01N5LA1L0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1490297881&sr=8-1&keywords=sunrise+at+honeysuckle+cove" target="_blank">Sunrise at Honeysuckle Cove (Honeysuckle Cove #1)</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Honeysuckle
Cove Inn has been in the Brennan family for three generations. When Maggie
Brennan’s parents retire, they call her home to Honeysuckle Cove and hand over
the reins of the historical inn. If Maggie successfully maintains the business
over the course of a year, the inn is hers forever. Maggie considers the timing
perfect, with one exception—she finds her path entangled once again with that
of Dylan O’Connor.</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Dylan
has made a name for himself as the go-to guy when it comes to renovations and
repairs in Honeysuckle Cove, and he’s waited nearly a decade for high school
sweetheart Maggie Brennan to return home. But his handyman skills will be put
to the test when it comes to rebuilding the bridge between Maggie’s heart and
his, and designing a future…together.</span></h4>
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<em>1st Chapter:</em></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie Brennan tossed her
overnight bag across one shoulder and slammed the door of her SUV. Her belly
skipped with excitement and a jumble of nerves as she turned toward Honeysuckle
Cove Inn. Her breath caught at the Victorian structure perched along an
undulating knoll, its sweeping wrap around porch and turn-of-the-century style
back-dropped by sun-dappled breakers of Wanderlust Lake. Whitewashed wood
encased panels of glass that shimmered beneath late afternoon light, while a
regal spire soared three stories to kiss the winter sky. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The rooms inside were filled with
countless legends and stories that had grown throughout the years. Maggie
wondered how many more tales might be woven over the coming months. The thought
sent her pulse into a barrel roll.</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Easy
there, Maggie…pull it together. You can do this.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A light breeze ruffled her hair
and whispered beneath the collar of her cotton shirt as she made her way up the
winding walk. She shivered and gathered the overnight bag to her chest like a
shield, wishing she’d thought to grab a sweater from one of the many suitcases
and boxes piled in the SUV’s trunk and stacked across the backseat. She’d
forgotten how cool January afternoons could be in East Tennessee. Not hard to
do, since it had been several winters since she’d come home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But an unexpected phone call from
her mother had changed everything. </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Dad and
I are heading south to the coast for the foreseeable future, Maggie. Surely the
warm weather will soothe relentless aches that have worsened in your father’s
battle with arthritis. The inn is yours. It’s too much for us to manage now,
and it pains me to say we’ve really let things slide over the past year or so.
Coaxing it back to life won’t be easy, but we know you have never shied away
from a challenge…”</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie drew in a breath. With her
sister Candice gone, the task of rescuing the family’s inn fell solely upon her
shoulders. Her parents were right—she rarely shied from a challenge. But there
had been one situation she’d run away from many moons ago. It remained the
reason she hadn’t returned to the cove for more than a handful of days here and
there since she’d graduated college and moved west. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And on those occasions she’d
popped in for a visit, she’d done her best to stay put along the grounds of the
inn, enjoying time with her parents and the beauty of the landscape while
avoiding any chance of running into the one person she wanted least to
see—Dylan O’Connor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But the lure of the inn with all its
intrigue and history…the many fond childhood memories that danced through her
dreams when she lay her head against a pillow at night…made it impossible to
stay gone any longer. Despite the fact that living twenty-four/seven in a small
town like Honeysuckle Cove would make it much harder to avoid Dylan, she
considered her parents’ offer to rejuvenate and manage the inn a blessing in
disguise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Who was she kidding? Considering
recent disasters in both her work and personal life, their offer proved an
answer to her prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Except for Dylan…and the
still-raw memories of her sister Candice, as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie forced the thoughts from
her mind before they had time to bloom. There was work to be done, and no time
to waste energy on recent failures or regrets from the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The scent of honeysuckle drifted,
drawing Maggie’s attention to a tangle of flowerbeds surrounding the inn and
gardens. Broken pavers lined what once served as a walkway to the rear patio
and lakeshore beyond, while unseasonably heavy rains had washed away layers of
mulch, leaving trenches of dirt in their wake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie shook her head and heaved
a sigh. Mom hadn’t been kidding when she said she and Dad had let things go. It
would take a small army to put things to right. Not very promising, since she
proved a lone soldier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Refusing to be deterred, she made
a mental note to launch an attack on the mess as soon as she had her bearings.
She’d have to get moving if she planned to stick to the rigid schedule she’d
outlined. Her parents hadn’t booked a guest room in more than six months and
the inn’s business account now straddled the fence between operating in the
black and plunging into red. But Maggie planned to start taking reservations
just as soon as she had things in order again. She’d revitalize one room at a
time, and also open the dining area to local dinner patrons as soon as the
revamped website and a workable menu—as well as adequate staff—were up and
running. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Which circled ’round to the fact
that she’d need to hire a chef…and a landscaper…and possibly even a carpenter
or handyman to help with simple—and not so simple—repairs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Again she considered Dylan. He
was the best carpenter she knew. Too bad she couldn’t call on him now. It would
make things so much easier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And so much more difficult.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie’s belly blanched. So many
things to consider. The enormity of the tasks that faced her threatened to wash
over her like a tsunami, taking her prisoner if she allowed them to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So she would keep her chin up and
stand tall. She’d focus on first things first. The once-beautiful gardens
tumbled with a graveyard of untended plants and tangled weeds. It wouldn’t do
well to have visitors arrive to such unkempt grounds. And pulling weeds was a
task she could manage on her own. She’d found digging in the dirt to be
cathartic…at least when she was eight years old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Clean-up would take some elbow
grease, but all was not lost. As she neared the porch, a closer look at the
flowerbeds proved that buried beneath the weeds a flurry of honeysuckle bushes
lay dormant, their sleepy buds curled against the cold, waiting patiently for
spring. Maggie imagined after so many countless seasons drenched in blooms, the
inn itself had taken on the sweet scent that seemed to linger like a spirit,
drawing its warm, fruity bouquet into the inn’s wood and fabric. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Even now, the inn sighed and
whispered, welcoming Maggie home. The thought made her smile as she reached the
front steps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly a deafening screech
ripped the air. Maggie tripped and stumbled. She clutched the stair rail and
waited a beat for her heart to jig back into rhythm. What on earth…?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The earsplitting whine died and
then wailed…died and wailed in a rhythmic assault to her eardrums. It took a
moment for the realization to dawn that the brain-numbing sound came from inside
the inn. She tilted her head and peered up toward the third floor of the spire.
A shadow crossed the window and she zeroed in, studying the rangy figure that
moved with an unmistakable, languid swagger. Her brain struggled to process
information. It couldn’t be…it wasn’t…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dylan?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No way. The inn was supposed to
be empty—especially from the likes of Dylan O’Connor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie’s spine turned to steel as
she climbed the porch steps and paused at the front door. She toed a worn
welcome mat and found the keys her mother had tucked there waiting beneath. She
bent, clutched them in her fist, and quickly realized there was no need for
them as the door stood unlocked and more than slightly ajar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was just like Dylan to waste
good money letting a steady stream of frigid winter air into the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She gave the door a shove, then
dropped her bag in the hallway. Familiar scents of warm cedar,
cinnamon-hazelnut coffee, and oak logs piled beside the fireplace conjured
memories, while force of habit had her padding through the living room and past
the library to a winding staircase that led to the third floor. She attacked
the staircase, her heart thrumming with each footstep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When the stairway opened to the
third floor landing, she couldn’t believe her eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There he stood—Dylan
O’Connor—leaned over a pair of sawhorses with his back to her as he waged
battle with a circular saw against a length of two-by-four.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The day had just become much,
much more difficult.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>~~~~~</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>Thanks for stopping by for a sneak peek at Sunrise at Honeysuckle Cove. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing for a free copy. The winner will be announced on Monday, Aril 24. Good Luck!</em></span></h4>
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Mary Mannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14418309166521363586noreply@blogger.com3