tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62333802275244163772024-02-21T01:59:15.350-07:00I Must Be Dreaming...Clean romance with adventure and humor...and lots of twists!
~~EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED~~Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.comBlogger282125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-45878056546718152052022-01-17T15:42:00.005-07:002022-01-17T15:42:31.674-07:00BOOK 100!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<p> I can't believe I have written and published 100 books. What a milestone for me. I never thought in 2010 when I first started this publishing journey that I would make it this far. But I've had do much fun writing stories. I pray the Lord will keep me alive long enough to write and publish even more stories and further my writing career.</p><p><br /></p><p>So, to let you see what book #100 looks like, here is the first chapter of Rubies and Rivers.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHOPVel1mt5rdCxtVVVd5j3_QOvh73PsjqhVPNRh1LDCKTzYV0Benhtp7kEzd2o2ZuPcK_2E1HzN0f3rfc8jzK9iJoIT2tPZchOqfDk3s7T0YA3h0S0Tz_XfS6-jclcr-sKnMukr9hSVaze45ABIM9mNwQmlM0Gkn76sTkneSCO0ap0oZ58gp6SzmEMQ=s2250" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHOPVel1mt5rdCxtVVVd5j3_QOvh73PsjqhVPNRh1LDCKTzYV0Benhtp7kEzd2o2ZuPcK_2E1HzN0f3rfc8jzK9iJoIT2tPZchOqfDk3s7T0YA3h0S0Tz_XfS6-jclcr-sKnMukr9hSVaze45ABIM9mNwQmlM0Gkn76sTkneSCO0ap0oZ58gp6SzmEMQ=s320" width="201" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Blub:</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
Brooks compares herself to Robin Hood. She steals from the rich to give to the
poor. But she only takes money from bad people. However, after she is crippled
in a carriage accident, she must change her ways. Now, she is righting the
wrongs in her life, and she ends up in Fort Benton, Montana. When she
recognizes a man from her past, she fears U.S. Marshal Jake Sterling might just
arrest her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Although
Jake Sterling is not a hero, he takes his job seriously and follows an outlaw
to Fort Benton. Jake has a gut feeling that the outlaw will steal the rubies
coming on one of the steamboats. But the more he gets to know the woman who is
lovelier than a desert rose, the more he believes she is a thief and working
side-by-side with the outlaw. How can he tell his heart that Whitney isn’t the
woman for him when her passionate kisses tell him differently?<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Chapter One:</p><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Standing
still, like the dead, was her only option.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Footsteps
shook the floor and entered the study. Panic filled Whitney Brooks as she
closed her eyes, hoping the intruder wouldn’t notice she was hiding behind the
heavy drapes covering the only window in the room. Her heartbeat quickened, and
she took slow breaths to keep calm. Yet, under the circumstances, how could she
remain composed when she feared they’d find her? Being locked away in jail – or
even hung – was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>an option!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
person in the room stopped. Whitney held her breath. It was Mr. Crowley
himself. His scent gave him away without having to peek around the drape and
look at him. The man’s overbearing cologne wafted thickly through the air,
making her want to gag. He smelled like a horse… like the animal’s droppings
inside the stalls, no less. How could anyone stand to be around him when his
scent was this horrid?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Inwardly,
she groaned. She was going to be sick all over his floor unless he left
quickly. If he didn’t discover where her hiding place was now, he’d definitely
know she was here when she regurgitated. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Slowly,
she lifted a hand to cover her nose. Whitney couldn’t blow her cover now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Because
of the thick, blue velvet drape blocking her view, she couldn’t see Mr. Crowley
or why he had left his wife’s birthday party to venture into his study. His
grumbles vibrated through the room. Whatever he was doing, he wasn’t having
much success. She knew the feeling well. If he didn’t leave soon, she wouldn’t
have much success stealing from him, either.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
hadn’t originally started out to be a thief. On the contrary, but when her best
friend’s father gambled away their money, leaving Constance destitute, Whitney
knew she had to help. Constance needed money for the stagecoach to Utah, where
her older sister and husband lived and would take care of her. Constance’s
grandfather, Mr. Crowley, was a greedy old man and wouldn’t lift a finger to
help his granddaughter. He hadn’t even invited Constance or her father to this
party tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And
so, Whitney would nudge the greedy old man into assisting dear Constance, even
if he didn’t realize it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mr.
Crowley grumbled. He was too close. Whitney could even smell his breath. He’d
been eating fish. Her heart sank, and her stomach lurched. Had he found her?
Yet, as she waited for him to whip back the drape and catch her, the moment
never arrived. A few times, she caught herself holding her breath too long, and
so she had to slowly exhale and draw in another breath as silently as she
could. So then, who was he talking to just now? Himself?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
low rumble came from the man as he chuckled. Whatever he was doing, he was at
his desk, and she specifically heard the rustle of papers. She was tempted to
move the drape just a bit to watch him, but she resisted. If he didn’t know she
was here, she certainly didn’t want to make him aware of her presence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
drawer closed, and more papers rustled before his heavy footsteps moved out of
the room. Once the door clicked shut, she released a heavy breath. Her limbs
shook as she relaxed against the window. However, she couldn’t hesitate for
very long. She had money to find and to get herself back downstairs before
someone noticed she was missing from the party.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On
soft feet, she moved away from the window and resumed her search through the
study. Constance mentioned that her grandfather kept some of his money in his
favorite room. Because he was always in this particular room, Constance assumed
it was his favorite. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t know exactly where the
old man hid it. Whitney figured he wouldn’t miss fifty dollars. And, after all,
it was going toward a good cause.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Being
as quiet as a mouse, she pulled out each drawer of his desk, moving papers
aside as she searched for the wad of money. Nothing. From there, she wandered
to each scenery painting hanging on the wall and peeked behind them. Still
nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
grumbled and shook her head. Where could it be?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Against
the far wall stood two ebonized bookcases filled with volumes. The lower fourth
of the shelf was a locked cupboard. Immediately, she recalled seeing a skeleton
key when she’d searched through the desk. She hurried and retrieved the key and
then knelt to see if it fit inside the keyhole.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
hand shook, making it a little difficult to slide the key into the hole, but
finally she accomplished that feat. Moisture beaded her forehead, and she
grumbled under her breath. Perhaps she should have found an easier way to get
money from Mr. Crowley. Yet, she knew the man's stubbornness, especially toward
Constance’s family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
the lock clicked open, Whitney nearly squealed with delight. Excitement pumped
through her as she peered inside. Stacks of money rested in this secret safe. There
was no way Mr. Crowley would miss fifty dollars. She nibbled on her bottom lip.
Perhaps she should take one hundred dollars, just in case Constance needed
more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After
pulling out the money, she carefully closed the safe and placed the key back in
the drawer. She shoved the money in her wrist purse and hurried to the door.
Slowly, she opened it and peeked into the hallway. Music drifted from the
ballroom on the first floor, but thankfully, she couldn’t detect any voices.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Smoothing
her palms down her baby blue silk gown, she took a deep breath and straightened
her shoulders. It was now time to put on a performance of her own – entering
the party as if she were the most innocent woman here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
entered, taking calculated steps as she glided into the room. A colorful
whirlwind of silk and satin gowns filled the old man’s ballroom. Available men
stood around the single ladies, doing their best to charm them. Whitney didn’t
have to worry about being considered one of these women. Being a widow, most
men didn’t consider her marriage material, even though she was only
twenty-four. They were all searching for a wealthier widow. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
scanned the large room, searching for her friend, Emily. James and Emily
Randolph had been good friends of Whitney’s deceased husband. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Since
Alan’s death almost a year ago, Whitney’s friends had slowly disappeared. No
longer could she consider herself close with anyone. They remained
acquaintances instead of friends. She knew it was because Alan had been almost
broke when he died. Thankfully, his debts were paid before he left this world.
She barely had enough to survive, but she’d make it work, even if she had to
gradually start selling off the many artifacts Alan had collected over the
years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
the months passed by, she felt she should find another husband. Being married
to Alan was no picnic, but how else would she be able to support herself? She’d
never felt so free until after his death, and she hesitated in entering another
loveless marriage. It was either that or find a way to make money so that she
could continue to live.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and wide white columns circled the
room. The papered walls were beautifully decorated, as were the shelves and end
tables where vases of flowers were placed. Mrs. Crowley enjoyed flaunting her
wealth, which made Whitney sick. Why have so much money if they wouldn’t share
it with their children and grandchildren?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
walked along the wall, still searching for Emily. When she passed a gilded
mirror, she glanced at her reflection. Her cheeks were redder than she’d
wanted, probably because she felt as though people would be able to read her
mind, to know what she’d been doing only moments ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
blonde ringlets were still in place, thankfully. And her face didn’t hold any
of the perspiration she’d suffered with while in Mr. Crowley’s study. Guilt
still filled her mind and made her green eyes darker. At least that’s why she
thought they appeared darker. Either that or it was the lighting in the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh,
there you are, Whitney,” Emily said, coming up behind her and touching her
shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
spun around to face her friend. The slightly older woman – by ten years –
looked lovely in her peach gown. Whitney always thought Emily’s natural beauty
was her greatest asset. That, and of course, her cheery disposition. Then
again, Emily was in love with her husband, and they had a happy marriage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh,
forgive me, my friend,” Whitney frowned. “I had to step out for a moment. I was
feeling very stuffy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
other woman nodded. “That’s completely understandable.” She took a deep breath
and then turned to the gentleman standing behind her. “Whitney Brooks, may I
present Mr. Jake Sterling, a friend of mine. He is the U.S. Marshal in our
area. And Mr. Sterling, this is my very good friend Mrs. Whitney Brooks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
held out her hand, and Mr. Sterling took it gently in his for a small shake. He
was quite handsome if she must admit. Tall, with broad shoulders, and dark
brown hair, he was a man who could make women swoon. “What a pleasure to meet
you, Marshal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
it’s always a pleasure to meet Mrs. Randolph’s friends.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It
was hard to look away from his handsome face. His gray eyes sparkled when he
grinned, and a cute little dimple dented his left cheek. She enjoyed the way
his hair waved back on his head as if he had a touch of natural curl. But what
captured her attention was the dark shadow of a mustache and beard. She
wondered if he had just suddenly been invited to the party and didn’t have time
to shave. Although she enjoyed a clean-shaven man, she was certain by ten
o’clock at night, his shadow would be fascinating. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
man was dressed in a black tailcoat with matching trousers, a gold vest, white
shirt, and a black string tie. By the expensive cut of the material, she knew
he was a man of means. The gold color of his vest gave his face a darker hue to
his skin and brought out his gray eyes a little more. Whatever it was about him
that made him so blindly handsome, she could stare at him for hours without
getting bored.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“When
I saw you earlier,” Mr. Sterling said, “I knew I had to beg an introduction
from Mrs. Randolph.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney
hitched a breath, and at the same time, tried not to look too worried. When did
he see her? She hoped he hadn’t witnessed her going into Mr. Crowley’s study –
or leaving it. Because of Mr. Sterling’s profession, this was a man she didn’t
want to make suspicious. “How kind of you, Marshal.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are
you still feeling stuffy, Mrs. Brooks?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
heart flipped. Heavens, she enjoyed the deepness of his voice. “Uh, yes, Marshal
Sterling. At times, the heat is nearly suffocating.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
must agree. I fear there are too many people for this size of ballroom.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
know,” Emily added, “I was thinking that very thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Mrs.
Brooks, if you don’t mind, may I request the pleasure of this next dance?
Unless, of course, you are not feeling well enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
heart hammered. Although she should turn him down, she needed to make him her
friend. She couldn’t have him knowing about the money she’d stolen. “Actually,
I’m not, but—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Suddenly,
Mr. Crowley’s panicked voice boomed through the room. “I’ve been robbed!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Fear
gripped Whitney’s throat, and she froze. Marshal Sterling muttered his
apologies and rushed toward Mr. Crowley. The crowd crept toward the rich man,
as well. Suddenly, the room closed in around her, and she couldn’t breathe.
Voices were lifted in shock and panic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Emily
left Whitney’s side as well, and moved toward the hosts. She needed to get out
of here. Now! What if they started searching their guests? They would find the
money in her wrist purse, for sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Slowly,
she backed away. As the guests pushed forward, she withdrew toward the door.
When she made it, she darted outside. Breathing in the fresh night air, she
concentrated on hurrying to her buggy before anyone noticed her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
climbed in and whipped the reins, urging the horse into a fast trot. Once she
passed the estate gates, she pushed the animal faster. The turn in the road
came upon her too quickly, and she couldn’t slow the horse down. The vehicle
bounced on the uneven road a few times before tipping.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
released the reins and gripped onto the seat. She was going down with the
buggy, and most assuredly, it would be painful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
vehicle hit the ground. The motion jerked her loose, tossing her out of the
buggy as if she was a rag doll. She rolled a few times on the ground, only
stopping when she knocked into a boulder. The buggy tumbled toward her. She
scrambled to get out of its way, but it was too late. The vehicle rested on top
of her, pinning her legs underneath.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Ripping
pain shot through her limbs, and she screamed. She couldn’t move the vehicle.
It was too heavy. As tears streamed down her face, she struggled to release her
legs, but they wouldn’t budge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This
time, a burning sting spread through her, and her legs turned numb. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No!</i> This couldn’t be happening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Someone
help me. Please!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
chest ached with guilt. If she hadn’t taken the money, she would still be at
Crowley’s party. Instead, she lay on the ground, unable to move. Nobody would
hear her cries, and yet if someone didn’t come soon to rescue her, she feared
she’d lose the use of her legs. In agony, she relaxed on the ground and cried
out her anguish.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">From
this moment on, her life would never be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><p>This book is available on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and in paperback.</p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Rubies-Rivers-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09K4JQRHW">https://www.amazon.com/Rubies-Rivers-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09K4JQRHW</a></p>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-18931981844063207552021-12-07T16:21:00.003-07:002021-12-07T16:21:35.644-07:00Nicholas' Bride - Chapter One<p> I'm so excited to have another Runaway Bride story out. Dec. 13th isn't coming fast enough to celebrate. So, I thought I'd tease you with letting you read Chapter One. :) </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOvykhO3fofhEwclgjmz6QJHrOiL_aFhoK2S9HP5graVithMHpkp7ON_4iauiq5DYqqdtRpPCUVa7-NZzCdL9t4yD4M30axNPnxLFk6nW6es981Zald5KtSk5bYRQM_x4g8Enz29vpjRuIEnrZAW5t22iKm2RgKwIs2OtLGheLA7B8wcgLULNqmEG9mA=s500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOvykhO3fofhEwclgjmz6QJHrOiL_aFhoK2S9HP5graVithMHpkp7ON_4iauiq5DYqqdtRpPCUVa7-NZzCdL9t4yD4M30axNPnxLFk6nW6es981Zald5KtSk5bYRQM_x4g8Enz29vpjRuIEnrZAW5t22iKm2RgKwIs2OtLGheLA7B8wcgLULNqmEG9mA=s320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: .5in;"><a name="_Hlk67781282">Nicholas
Drake narrowed his gaze on the outlaw not more than ten feet in front of him.
Both men had their hands hovering over their holstered pistols, waiting for the
right moment to draw. The sun hadn’t started its rise on the horizon yet, and
shadows were playing tricks on Nick’s eyes, which meant he had to be that much
more cautious.<o:p></o:p></a></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">It hadn’t taken Nick very long to track down Jakeson – which was
the only name the outlaw used – and now that he had the filthy man, he wasn’t
about to let him go. The Pinkerton Agency wanted Jakeson because of the many
trains he had robbed in the last seven years. Thankfully, none of the
passengers on the train had been killed. However, many had been injured. As a
Pinkerton agent, Nick would make sure Jakeson didn’t harm another person ever
again.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">It surprised Nick that the outlaw dressed so grubby and smelled
as though he’d been rolling with the pigs, especially for a man who had stolen
money and women’s expensive jewels. Wouldn’t the outlaw want to dress better or
at least <i>smell </i>better? Now Nick wondered what the stolen money had been
used on.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Don’t be a fool, Jakeson,” Nick warned. “I’m a quick-draw, and
I’ll shoot you before your hand even touches the butt of the gun.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">The outlaw who appeared to be in his late forties gave Nick a
darker scowl, and the man’s expression was very self-assured. Once again, Nick
would have to prove the man wrong because he would not let the outlaw win.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I’m not afraid of ya.” Jakeson shook his head. “I’ve slipped
away from other Pinkerton agents, and I’ll get away from ya just as fast.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Indeed, the man was a fool. “If you come along with me without
putting up a fight, I assure you, the judge will be more lenient with your
sentence.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Don’t try usin’ yer big words on me. I’m never gonna let ya take
me.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nick shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll just shoot you now instead of
trying to talk some sense into your tiny brain.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">In a flash, Nick took hold of his gun and pointed it at the
outlaw. Just as he had warned the other man, there was no way the outlaw was
faster. Jakeson’s eyes widened, and Nick was privileged to see the panic on the
man’s face.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Hold up your hands where I can see them,” Nick demanded. “And
walk slowly toward me so that I can slap these cuffs on your wrists. The other
agents may have let you slip through their fingers, but I promise you, I’ll not
make the same mistake.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Jakeson’s scowl deepened the obvious wrinkles already lining his
leathery face. His salt and pepper-toned hair that matched the color of his
bushy beard gave away his age. “Don’t get too cocky, Agent Drake.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I’m not cocky.” Nick arched an eyebrow. “I’m confident.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Jakeson chuckled and lifted his hands as Nick requested. “No, yer
cocky, just like the other agents. Ya see, that’s how I can get away so easily.
Y'all are so sure of yerself, ya don’t think I’m smart enough to make a plan,
but I am.” He nodded. “I’m smarter than ya realize.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Sounds to me, Jakeson, that you are the cocky one.” Nick
motioned with his pistol. “Now, slowly, start walking toward me and keep your hands
up where I can see them, or my itchy trigger finger might just slip.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Jakeson’s lip curled as he took slow steps toward Nick. This
outlaw could not be trusted, and Nick wouldn’t believe a word the man said,
even if he was choking to death and begged for help.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">A small amount of light peeked on the horizon as the sun began to
rise. There were still many shadows, but at least it wasn’t as many as a few
minutes ago. Still, Nick was cautious as he kept his eye on the outlaw. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">The man took his time coming toward Nick, and his finger rested
on the trigger just in case the fool tried something. The train robber’s
straggly long hair hung in his face, and from what Nick could tell, pockmarks
and scars were very prominent no matter how long his hair was.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nick carefully withdrew the handcuffs from his belt, not taking
his attention from the outlaw. After turning Jakeson into the sheriff, Nick
thought about asking his supervisor for another case. Keeping his mind busy was
exactly what he needed at this time in his life. Hopefully, working hard on a
tough case would take him out of Montana and far away from <i>her</i>.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">About a month ago, he’d made a tremendous mistake while trying to
comfort a woman. He should have known better. Pretty ladies with watery eyes
had always been his biggest downfall.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Suddenly, Jakeson tripped and fell to the ground, landing
facedown. Nick steadied his hand, pointing the gun toward the outlaw.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Get up,” Nick snapped, prepared for anything now.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">He waited for the man to move, but the outlaw lay still. Taking
careful steps, Nick moved closer. A large rock was very near to the man’s head.
Nick grimaced. Had Jakeson struck his head on the hard object and been knocked
unconscious? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Get up, man.” Nick kicked his boot into the outlaw’s leg. Still,
the man lay still.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Grumbling under his breath, Nick shook his head. He didn’t
necessarily want to drag the man to his horse and throw him over the animal by
himself. But at least he could handcuff him and wait for him to regain
consciousness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nick sighed and rolled his eyes. At least he wouldn’t have to
shoot him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">He stepped closer and bent to take hold of one of Jakeson’s
hands. Suddenly, the outlaw rolled over and kicked Nick’s shins. Before he
could gain his balance, the outlaw threw dirt into Nick’s face.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">His eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly. His vision was unclear,
but he still tried to aim his gun at the man. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Seconds later, Jakeson barreled into Nick, knocking him over. As
he fell on his back, his breath whooshed out of his mouth painfully. His gun
fell from his hand.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nick struggled to retain control, but his eyes still stung with
the dirt, and his ribs cried out in pain. Before Nick could see it coming,
Jakeson’s fist plowed into his face. Then another punch followed. And another
one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Dizziness assailed Nick while he tried to ward off the blows. For
a moment, the dreaded realization hit him… Maybe he wasn’t in control after
all.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Good things were going to happen today. Lydia Swanson just knew
it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Already, the sun was shining in the morning sky, and birds were
singing. When Lydia entered the milliner shop an hour ago, the other two ladies
she worked with were busily making hats and chatting about the town's latest
scandals. Thankfully, nothing was said about the Swanson sisters this time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">As Lydia prepared her work for the day, she recognized that guilt
wasn’t weighing her down any longer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">It had been a whole month since she’d blamed her older sister,
Victoria, for consorting with the man Lydia was supposed to marry, when lo and
behold, what had Lydia done with the man helping her find her lost sister? She
fell in love with him!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">For Lydia, that day had turned from bad to worse. After catching
her sister kissing Mr. Cartwright, Lydia had run off wanting to get far away
and never see her sister again. The man who’d been helping her, Pinkerton agent
Nicholas Drake, had chased after her and when he’d found her…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">A shiver ran through Lydia, and she shook her head. No! She could
not – <i>would not </i>– think of what had
happened that day. But at least she had stopped feeling guilty about it. She’d
forgiven her sister, and they were best friends again. In fact, Lydia had had the
privilege of helping Victoria get ready for her wedding to Alan Cartwright.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia sighed and smiled. It had been a wonderful wedding. Many
people in Stumptown had come to see their friend, Alan, marry the woman who had
rescued him. Well, that was the story Toria and Alan were telling everyone,
anyway. Only a few of them knew what really happened.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Lydia? How is your sister Rachael?” Penny asked, swinging a shawl
over her shoulders as she walked closer to Lydia.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Snapping out of her thoughts, she realized it was time to drive into
Libby, the town where they picked up supplies for the shop once a month. One of
the three women always stayed behind while the other two took the long drive.
Today was Lydia’s turn to take the drive.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">She quickly set her sewing down and hurried to the wall to
collect her bonnet and shawl. “Rachael is doing fine.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Is she still interested in becoming a milliner?” Penny asked.
“Because business is picking up. We may want to hire another sewer.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia shrugged as she placed the bonnet on her head. “Rachael
hasn’t decided yet. She wants to be either a milliner or a seamstress.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny walked to the door and peeked over her shoulder at Sara.
“We’ll be back later this evening.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Have a pleasant journey.” Sara smiled.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny nodded. “I’ll be taking my trusty rifle, just in case.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia was relieved that Penny and Sara knew how to shoot because
she had never used a gun in her life. Those things scared her.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">As they left the shop, Lydia waved to the other lady. Sara was
the oldest out of the three, and at times, Lydia looked up to her friend as a
mother figure, especially since she couldn’t ever remember her own mother being
a caregiver. Ma was always sick, which Lydia blamed on her drunken father, who
was never home and eventually ran off for good. Ma had been sad about her life,
which ultimately made her so sick she died.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">The three women at the milliner shop had so much in common, but
the most important thing was that they were all orphans. Although Lydia’s
father was still alive somewhere – probably living in a saloon or the gutter –
he’d never been around enough to act as a father should. For most of her life,
she’d been telling people that her parents were deceased.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny and Lydia griped about the many women in town but very few
men as they drove out of town. Being unmarried, both women didn’t think they
would ever find a husband. Of course, this was the very reason Lydia had tried
to become a mail-order bride in the first place. But her older sister stole the
groom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Now that we’re away from Sara,” Penny began, “I suppose I can
tell you that I’m thinking of moving to Libby.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Surprised, Lydia gasped. “But why? Didn’t you mention earlier
that business was booming?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I did, but the truth is, I don’t want to be an old maid.” Penny
sighed heavily. “Besides, I’m sure there are many milliner shops in Libby that
will hire me.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia understood her friend perfectly. “I suppose we could both
sign up to be mail-order brides.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny’s brown eyes widened. “Didn’t you try to do that already?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes, but this time I won’t tell my sisters about it.” She
chuckled softly, playing with her necklace. This was something she found
herself doing quite a bit lately, especially when talking or discussing things
that made her uncomfortable. “I think that’s the only way I’m going to get
married.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny shrugged and turned her gaze back to the road. She shifted
the horse’s reins in her hands. “I suppose that could be my last option. I
really want to fall in love, though.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia’s heart wrenched. “Don’t we all?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Immediately, her thoughts turned to Nicholas Drake. And just as
quickly, Lydia pushed them aside. That was a man she could never love. He was
rude and definitely <i>not </i>a gentleman.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Suddenly, Penny sat up straighter in the wagon’s seat and slowed
the horse. Curious, Lydia tried to see what her friend’s gaze was fixed on.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Do you see that?” Penny asked.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia searched the hillside, but all she could see were
different-sized rocks. “See what?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“It looks like… a man.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Finally, the large boulder on the side of the road took a
different shape. Lydia blinked several times, not believing her vision. That
couldn’t possibly be a man lying in a ball on the ground and wearing only his
long johns. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny gasped and pulled the wagon to a complete stop. “It <i>is </i>a
man.” She grabbed her rifle and jumped down. Slowly, she stepped toward the
unconscious man.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Out of morbid curiosity, Lydia climbed down and hurried behind
her friend. From what Lydia could guess, this man must have been in a fight.
His scratched-up face held bruises, and one eye was swollen. His lips were cut
and had been bleeding. The only stitch of clothing he wore was his men’s long
underwear. Handcuffs were on his wrists as his arms were fastened behind him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Is he dead?” Lydia whispered, grasping Penny’s shawl as they
crept closer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I don’t know.” Penny’s voice was low.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">As Lydia stared at the man, an odd feeling came over her – almost
like she recognized him from somewhere. But with his bloody and bruised face,
how could she know?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Suddenly, he moaned, and his head rolled to the side. Both Lydia
and Penny shrieked and jumped back. Penny aimed the rifle at him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">The man’s eyes blinked open. He squinted at first, and then he
glanced at his surroundings before trying to move his arms. A grumble sprang
from his throat. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Finally, the man’s gaze stopped on Lydia and Penny. Lydia wasn’t
sure how her friend felt at this moment, but she was scared out of her wits.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Are you going to just stare at me, or will you help me?” he said
in a hoarse voice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Penny kept her rifle aimed at the man. “Depends.” She cleared her
throat. “Are you an outlaw? Is that why you are in handcuffs?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“No, I’m not an outlaw!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">His voice was loud, but it must have hurt his head because he
grimaced and closed his eyes. The stranger took several deep breaths before
opening his eyes again. This time, his attention rested on Lydia. Then, his
gaze narrowed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Lydia Swanson? Is that you?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Her heartbeat hammered wildly. Her first instinct had been right
after all. But she still didn’t recognize him. “Yes, but… who are you?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I’m the Pinkerton agent you dislike so much.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">A loud gasp vibrated through Lydia before she could stop it.
“Nicholas Drake?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes.” He sighed. “Now, will you please help me get out of these
handcuffs?” He glanced down at his underwear. “And help me find my clothes?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">Lydia’s gut churned. This was the one man she had never wanted to
see again. And yet, now she was his salvation.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Perhaps she’d been wrong after all. Good things were </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">not </i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">going to
happen to her today.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; 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;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; 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;">PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B09LH59562" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B09LH59562 </a></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-65815766021976039082021-11-01T19:20:00.000-06:002021-11-01T19:20:24.932-06:00FALL GIVEAWAY<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlrkTSNTY1l18Nle-ij8FkNjeUA2_JMS46Eb2wq6mmWBWo10BvJCtPF-yo4epD35iTKew1jgoxu3gT8uZQVgJIvG-0rU7-eWXiaVwRXShRzful68WgMRz5bQqkFJESWDZ5w987Wf83NO3/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="404" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlrkTSNTY1l18Nle-ij8FkNjeUA2_JMS46Eb2wq6mmWBWo10BvJCtPF-yo4epD35iTKew1jgoxu3gT8uZQVgJIvG-0rU7-eWXiaVwRXShRzful68WgMRz5bQqkFJESWDZ5w987Wf83NO3/" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;">WELCOME
READERS!!! THESE 11 AUTHORS HAVE JOINED TOGETHER TO PROVIDE YOU A WONDERFUL
FALL ROMANCE AND COZY MYSTERY #NEWRELEASE GIVEAWAY!!!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">GRAND
PRIZE:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> One lucky reader will win an Amazon gift card worth $120 for
all the books you could want this Holiday season! <b><i><u>AND</u></i></b> a
free ecopy of each of the 12 #NewRelease Books highlighted below!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">RUNNER-UP:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> One
lucky reader will win a free ecopy of each of the 12 #NewRelease Books below!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Click
on this Rafflecopter link to Enter!<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://bit.ly/3Ey06Xt"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://bit.ly/3Ey06Xt</span></i></b></a><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> .<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Contest
runs from November 1-7, 2021!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Open
internationally. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hosted
by </span></b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/ChickLitShop"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">@ChickLitShop
(IG)</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> & </span></b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/MarySmithBlogger"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary Smith – Book
Blogger (FB)</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(FB
and IG are not responsible for this giveaway.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our
Giveaway Authors!!!<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Andie Low <o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="background: white; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A fun witch cozy mystery with a dash of
romance, and the ninth and final in the Marina Witches Mysteries.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwhBsgie7e77vkaGlQ7KNZ4sqxhSP48kL5JuWNLTpEXdSG0wgmKSMmDvc-5Nuj4xMTMgBDzIkKohc_-C98ylOeFhVtppl_6Iyp22sqJ9HvZoWCGG_iBWSqESlwNZxqHS6Gwvkpatn_fM7/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="154" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwhBsgie7e77vkaGlQ7KNZ4sqxhSP48kL5JuWNLTpEXdSG0wgmKSMmDvc-5Nuj4xMTMgBDzIkKohc_-C98ylOeFhVtppl_6Iyp22sqJ9HvZoWCGG_iBWSqESlwNZxqHS6Gwvkpatn_fM7/" width="154" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://books2read.com/HouseofHoodoo"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">House
of Hoodoo</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Homework,
detention, and even her wedding are on hold. First Frankie Bonny has to find
the man who murdered her mom, oh and say yes to a dress.<br />
<br />
Luckily, she’s got some serious magical muscle backing her up on this quest,
and even a vampire, or two!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://books2read.com/HouseofHoodoo"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://books2read.com/HouseofHoodoo</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://www.andrenelowauthor.com/thelowdown"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.andrenelowauthor.com/thelowdown</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clodagh Murphy<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A funny, feel-good romcom about old friends and new beginnings.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux78DxuX-XVPj9KD0h3iPByUJFQs41DA4eoOnRl3xbZSAj98PQ2WupHuktbNRYauxso9FgM39mZkR9W-uvlf0LJSxKoGN4_3066NKWJroU8pzTADoh9rHs81rgFl0s5Sr8nRrSrfXbx_u/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="151" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux78DxuX-XVPj9KD0h3iPByUJFQs41DA4eoOnRl3xbZSAj98PQ2WupHuktbNRYauxso9FgM39mZkR9W-uvlf0LJSxKoGN4_3066NKWJroU8pzTADoh9rHs81rgFl0s5Sr8nRrSrfXbx_u/" width="151" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/47OXpg"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
Reboot</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Former
school friends Ella and Roly have suffered some major setbacks since they last
met. Now they’re both ready to start over, and they rekindle their friendship
as they each try to get back what they lost. But Ella’s never told Roly what
really happened the night his life fell apart ... <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://books2read.com/u/47OXpg"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://books2read.com/u/47OXpg</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">BookBub: </span><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/clodagh-murphy"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/clodagh-murphy</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stella Bixby<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Light-hearted humorous mysteries set in the Colorado
Rockies. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJoBrxw3_cs5qfpyKPXf6_Jp29IQRG7u8XszfyVB0u61fo3-kpm01t5zRoOF8BBmCOTqq2LRZChShBpFro-1wExYnodGNvSBn16tZRAjV1_NTK1ABQXUMybqtDT4MK1VG2Rfroi69Bgg8/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="151" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJoBrxw3_cs5qfpyKPXf6_Jp29IQRG7u8XszfyVB0u61fo3-kpm01t5zRoOF8BBmCOTqq2LRZChShBpFro-1wExYnodGNvSBn16tZRAjV1_NTK1ABQXUMybqtDT4MK1VG2Rfroi69Bgg8/" width="147" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZNRV3TF"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Snowed</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
last thing Rylie needs is a dead body ruining her big day. Or a jealous ex. Or
a massive snowstorm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZNRV3TF"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZNRV3TF</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://view.flodesk.com/pages/6163ab4cc71e8685f183c7f0"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://view.flodesk.com/pages/6163ab4cc71e8685f183c7f0</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Marika Ray<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A sweet RomCom about second chance love and the power of
well-placed mistletoe.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztgOoL6u0OVn2iAI0OFIo4tvYIO1D0uZIw7X8rTdmtxblnvVL0ID1n4ZFUeMnXzCmR9yn5v6ZXXQzAWk4RdLRkYcqvAIpq5mGbngwg73OCOyDb6jzwjbjfC6y5fyl3MweA5Bg_W-hdTEJ/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="151" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztgOoL6u0OVn2iAI0OFIo4tvYIO1D0uZIw7X8rTdmtxblnvVL0ID1n4ZFUeMnXzCmR9yn5v6ZXXQzAWk4RdLRkYcqvAIpq5mGbngwg73OCOyDb6jzwjbjfC6y5fyl3MweA5Bg_W-hdTEJ/" width="161" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Text-Before-Christmas-Digital-Dating-ebook/dp/B09J4B1ZPH/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Text
Before Christmas</span></a><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pamela
Cunningham is really getting into the holiday spirit, and she’s finding herself
thinking about things she hasn’t considered since her husband died. All thanks
to the debonair winemaker she hired from France. Will the text he receives
sending him back home to France spoil their holiday together?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Text-Before-Christmas-Digital-Dating-ebook/dp/B09J4B1ZPH/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/Text-Before-Christmas-Digital-Dating-ebook/dp/B09J4B1ZPH/</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">BookBub: </span><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/marika-ray"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/marika-ray</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
</span><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Heather
Huffman<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cozy Mysteries set in St. Augustine, Florida!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBBbFiPssoGy2r4XebEcm97XZj9fyu_viuOR10YaaYxCZUA9b2oQtjXwi-I8CSpE31M0kzedY8Hc_S6Rohem7RFyWB_LOfOWTmrAIHFa3LK9ifzgT4wraUA9Cqe5YfRClviFAzMQLcMd7/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="150" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBBbFiPssoGy2r4XebEcm97XZj9fyu_viuOR10YaaYxCZUA9b2oQtjXwi-I8CSpE31M0kzedY8Hc_S6Rohem7RFyWB_LOfOWTmrAIHFa3LK9ifzgT4wraUA9Cqe5YfRClviFAzMQLcMd7/" width="150" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FZT31FF"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Trouble
in the Treasure</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When
a treasure map is discovered among her uncle’s things, Nora Jones learns the
hard way about the old adage treasure is trouble. <i>Trouble in the Treasure</i> is
the second installment in the lighthearted Nora Jones Mysteries series, full of
endearing characters, intriguing mysteries, and a dash of romance.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FZT31FF"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FZT31FF</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">BookBub: </span><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/heather-huffman"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.bookbub.com/profile/heather-huffman</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kirsty McManus <o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A sweet resort rom-com set near the Great Barrier Reef, Australia.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKTRIqIyMPXNsi0zv46UkpWt-pU4qHZn0bIZfS_EzYD-phBoRhhYJ62fbjqPDD0VmRJRY1T8ngPycdXyPbqAnR9mimJ5i-dxXQxCSxY1A8wsKxpXRqJ8kMYXa7Gb8hHpuIY20wA0nS6Wu/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="151" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKTRIqIyMPXNsi0zv46UkpWt-pU4qHZn0bIZfS_EzYD-phBoRhhYJ62fbjqPDD0VmRJRY1T8ngPycdXyPbqAnR9mimJ5i-dxXQxCSxY1A8wsKxpXRqJ8kMYXa7Gb8hHpuIY20wA0nS6Wu/" width="151" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://mybook.to/LoveAtCocoBay"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Love at Coco Bay</span></a><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With a recent promotion from receptionist to co-assistant
manager—not to mention the ongoing opportunity to live and work with her best
friends—everything is perfect for Sasha. Well, except for one tiny thing. Sasha
has never had much luck in the boyfriend department, and the only guy she’s
ever been interested in is event planner Dash, a Channing Tatum lookalike who
is oblivious to her affections. But when a resort guest insists that Sasha work
with Dash on an upcoming wedding, they are suddenly thrust into a
three-month-long high-pressure environment. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Can Sasha survive the chaos, make the wedding a
success, and end up with her dream guy?</span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a name="_Hlk86416883"></a><a href="https://mybook.to/LoveAtCocoBay"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86416883;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://mybook.to/LoveAtCocoBay</span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86416883;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86416883;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://www.kirstymcmanus.com.au/get-free-stuff/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.kirstymcmanus.com.au/get-free-stuff/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Margaret Amatt<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p style="line-height: 27.0pt; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A heart-warming and sparkly
Christmas romance.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 27.0pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL51mnlDzu8Gl7pLXIlemeVWK9V3YvvL7HKij3HPbDQo5TvwAS7J0Eb6Nval7rZw4KANrjeHP8Gf25yld2ufCt4LfzSxGzADdDObYkyQCP1m2mpoP5gjO2MSA16a7qx3SfAgx_6XjYcxDt/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="159" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL51mnlDzu8Gl7pLXIlemeVWK9V3YvvL7HKij3HPbDQo5TvwAS7J0Eb6Nval7rZw4KANrjeHP8Gf25yld2ufCt4LfzSxGzADdDObYkyQCP1m2mpoP5gjO2MSA16a7qx3SfAgx_6XjYcxDt/" width="159" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 27.0pt; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B6BDTLJ"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;">A Christmas Bluff</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><b><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">She’s about to trespass all
over his Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy-go-lucky Georgia has a festive problem and to solve it,
she’s going to hijack a castle on a Scottish island from grumpy landowner, Archie.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a name="_Hlk86417416"></a><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B6BDTLJ"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86417416;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B6BDTLJ</span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86417416;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86417416;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://www.margaretamatt.com/subscribe"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.margaretamatt.com/subscribe</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Marie Higgins <o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A Historical Romance Cozy Mystery!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nSyyS7CQn7dfB1SWR2yqLs9xYzGCGfOrqF3TWHCs6lczH53aFEsxWkdy-1m3aGA87yjxhs_w6fiQ83uTqPvuG8AofudtCKKie9W21ltes0UwFegx-HzIfKFqTa22WkQnVMHp11Ubg6AV/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="150" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nSyyS7CQn7dfB1SWR2yqLs9xYzGCGfOrqF3TWHCs6lczH53aFEsxWkdy-1m3aGA87yjxhs_w6fiQ83uTqPvuG8AofudtCKKie9W21ltes0UwFegx-HzIfKFqTa22WkQnVMHp11Ubg6AV/" width="160" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Diamonds-Dust-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09D68XXRC/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Diamonds and Dust</span></a><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pinkerton
agent, Dusty Sloan, isn’t just another cowboy who enjoys charming the ladies.
He is dedicated to his job, especially when stolen diamonds and a stubborn
woman are involved. Can he protect her and find the mystery of the stolen gems,
or will his heart get involved?</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's
the journey that makes the romance interesting... Expect the unexpected!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Diamonds-Dust-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09D68XXRC/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/Diamonds-Dust-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09D68XXRC/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://www.authormariehiggins.com/newsletter"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.authormariehiggins.com/newsletter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Phillipa Nefri Clark <o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cozy mystery series set in Australia.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4jnoIbMAwsNAQMUG_4T8df513wbFuRyl2to1WeJpMJ6dfRW9fNlBDuKbKyXz7m5qM3OWgf8RrgPyUkQYpfRvlezwyHgfDg3eDWK9rut6JYFuI6LzKiO2qvbuYFBuy214oMK3qikX_tZW/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="150" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4jnoIbMAwsNAQMUG_4T8df513wbFuRyl2to1WeJpMJ6dfRW9fNlBDuKbKyXz7m5qM3OWgf8RrgPyUkQYpfRvlezwyHgfDg3eDWK9rut6JYFuI6LzKiO2qvbuYFBuy214oMK3qikX_tZW/" width="160" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://geni.us/Shadowebook"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
Shadow of Daph</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Daphne
Jones loves nothing more than travelling with her husband, John, in Bluebell,
their cute restored caravan. Instead of retiring, she started a new career as a
celebrant, officiating at weddings, funerals, and all manner of ceremonies. And
even a spot of sleuthing...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://geni.us/Shadowebook"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://geni.us/Shadowebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/dgvlijnwfk"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://dl.bookfunnel.com/dgvlijnwfk</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jess Mastorakos <o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fans of modern-day royal romances will love this fish out of
water adventure!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXogbSADz2clVFUdAHcZoRoQafkiiZltlF8MCd047dcmk5vXCv9UcBO6SB0Fd5Tnjq4xfJlIy8ESciiYlRia9fLcJxi4SrMxDxuhyphenhyphen8j80IaRO3wJCph1mqDlQBdSO4clqLR-w7RSMUm7Q/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="159" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXogbSADz2clVFUdAHcZoRoQafkiiZltlF8MCd047dcmk5vXCv9UcBO6SB0Fd5Tnjq4xfJlIy8ESciiYlRia9fLcJxi4SrMxDxuhyphenhyphen8j80IaRO3wJCph1mqDlQBdSO4clqLR-w7RSMUm7Q/" width="159" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09JJKH6RV"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A
Princess for the Marine</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Zara is a runaway princess, desperate to make her dreams come
true. When she begs Huck to lend a hand, he can’t help but oblige. But Zara is
looking for something he can’t provide, and Huck hates that he's falling for
her after what happened the last time he gave his heart away. Can this princess
and her protector figure it out before she rides off into the sunset alone?</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09JJKH6RV" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09JJKH6RV</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/2dmzkfoy1i" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">https://dl.bookfunnel.com/2dmzkfoy1i</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whitney Dineen<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A laugh out loud royal romcom full of heart!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rC4in25g_Ifte-aQ5fMEOeNjCgG-nqRXIGWLMCbdDmmhPhrytUBYi-CuoPri5yfE_Zd0hlJyyFCsZW2ur6xiImQRAqZG9N5S1xWLW-dxS7UAHRLhi9k0KWQlmJsNIFz-XVoSxCFGnS5j/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="150" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rC4in25g_Ifte-aQ5fMEOeNjCgG-nqRXIGWLMCbdDmmhPhrytUBYi-CuoPri5yfE_Zd0hlJyyFCsZW2ur6xiImQRAqZG9N5S1xWLW-dxS7UAHRLhi9k0KWQlmJsNIFz-XVoSxCFGnS5j/" width="160" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Youre-So-Vain-Romance-Mothers-ebook/dp/B08XTMM1RG"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You’re So Vain</span></a><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Family
drama is something Lutéce Choate struggles to avoid. With a mother who's an
award-winning country western song writer, an aunt who's a Country Music Hall
of Famer, and a brother who's a rock star, it hasn't exactly been a low-key
kind of life, and she's ready for a break.<br />
<br />
Then Lu's younger sister, Claire, goes off and gets engaged to a prince from
Malquar, bringing the dreaded spotlight back to shine on their family once
again. Lu wants to go to the engagement party about as much as she wants to
yodel the Star Spangled Banner at the Grand Ole Opry with her crazy relatives.
Alas, not going, doesn't appear to be an option.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Youre-So-Vain-Romance-Mothers-ebook/dp/B08XTMM1RG"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/Youre-So-Vain-Romance-Mothers-ebook/dp/B08XTMM1RG</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Newsletter: </span><a href="https://whitneydineen.com/newsletter"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://whitneydineen.com/newsletter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whitney Dineen<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A
billionaire romance with a Hallmark happy ending!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZJgCtr-LwofhN3JzsW625ek8Eua80eztVdU052wQYzyOkhMDWL5BHil4vJQIQG1xHQkE8tzE9ylRbCALDv9WtBBXGS_6Q2ZYbOUiKIVcSCVirdtp9wczXiBKJkivhcEdB9rw0sd3fwDU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZJgCtr-LwofhN3JzsW625ek8Eua80eztVdU052wQYzyOkhMDWL5BHil4vJQIQG1xHQkE8tzE9ylRbCALDv9WtBBXGS_6Q2ZYbOUiKIVcSCVirdtp9wczXiBKJkivhcEdB9rw0sd3fwDU/" width="160" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mistle-Text-Before-Christmas-Accidentally-ebook/dp/B095T3699K/">Mistle
Text:<o:p></o:p></a></span></u></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mistle-Text-Before-Christmas-Accidentally-ebook/dp/B095T3699K/">‘Twas
the Text Before Christmas…</a></span></span><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Holly
Snow not only needs a job, she needs a miracle. So when her best friend Toni
finds her a personal shopper gig for her billionaire boss, Holly jumps at the
opportunity. But then Archibald Harrington offers her a much better
paying job as his pretend girlfriend over the Christmas holidays, and that's
when things get sticky...</span><u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Book Link: </span><a name="_Hlk86419269"></a><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mistle-Text-Before-Christmas-Accidentally-ebook/dp/B095T3699K/"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86419269;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.amazon.com/Mistle-Text-Before-Christmas-Accidentally-ebook/dp/B095T3699K/</span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86419269;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk86419269;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">IG: </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/whitneydineenauthor"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.instagram.com/whitneydineenauthor</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">~ ~ ~
~ ~<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Enjoy
these fun Fall Romance and Cozy Mystery #NewRelease Books!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Again,
Enter the Contest at: </span></i></b><a href="https://bit.ly/3Ey06Xt"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://bit.ly/3Ey06Xt</span></i></b></a><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> !<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hosted
by<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS79kxQrcSdS3O4_rSy0b1DQxj0b46XNbqgElvZZfVxi4VUzkjRXpvTa5YQgOIokcFbRQoN9LAg0zbolPMSXJ0DQ9ERcV4T2JiDLk1ZRZQxJ9fL2pGwIkpfe2hU_G6CdoI2cL0QLJWeFm/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="155" data-original-width="292" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS79kxQrcSdS3O4_rSy0b1DQxj0b46XNbqgElvZZfVxi4VUzkjRXpvTa5YQgOIokcFbRQoN9LAg0zbolPMSXJ0DQ9ERcV4T2JiDLk1ZRZQxJ9fL2pGwIkpfe2hU_G6CdoI2cL0QLJWeFm/" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/ChickLitShop"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">@Chick Lit Shop (IG)</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> &
</span></b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/MarySmithBlogger"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary
Smith - Book Blogger (FB)</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-16064271427416365152020-11-01T14:59:00.003-07:002020-11-01T14:59:52.454-07:00New Series!!<p> I'm so excited about my new series "Runaway Brides". I'm centering all of the books in this series around one Montana town - Stumptown. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbs4_PSX7wHxJocHqcXr94Bu4WqC6MPstNB-tqP9f8vfcB2egIG8MtEpFvPEofuV2qSMcaDYPEHYzW8C3r6jqNmemabF_GQzrK40K4VrtUrUoaZKgl6UhYhQRXYtm3J2qkKZH9SGqecQwb/s940/Add+a+little+bit+of+body+text+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbs4_PSX7wHxJocHqcXr94Bu4WqC6MPstNB-tqP9f8vfcB2egIG8MtEpFvPEofuV2qSMcaDYPEHYzW8C3r6jqNmemabF_GQzrK40K4VrtUrUoaZKgl6UhYhQRXYtm3J2qkKZH9SGqecQwb/w400-h335/Add+a+little+bit+of+body+text+%25281%2529.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Book One - Denton's Bride:</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Courtney Mills is </span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">no</span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">t a murderer.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Of course, convincing her fiancé’s family that
she had nothing to do with his death is a different matter. They are bound to
put a noose around her neck</span></span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">,</span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> and she can’t defend herself. There is only
one thing to do. Run far away and stay hidden. She needs a plan… Become a
mail-order bride.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Denton Reed catches criminals for a living, and
when a wealthy family hires him to find the number one suspect in their
father’s murder, Denton jumps into action. But, it appears the only way to
catch her is to convince her that he's part of her plan to become a mail-order
bride. There’s no harm in pretending… or is there?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> EXCERPT:</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><h1>ONE<o:p></o:p></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Montana, 1877<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Never in Courtney Mills’
life did she think she would be planning a wedding only to see her intended,
lying on the floor, dead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Arranged marriages to old
men needed to be outlawed!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Courtney Mills twisted
her handkerchief against her middle as she stared at the lifeless body of
Albert Greenwood – the man ten years older than her father – lying on the floor
of his study. Blood stained the beige rug under his head as his lay face down. Next
to his head was a marbled bust of George Washington. In Albert’s study was his
collection of history, and from the looks of it, George Washington was the very
thing that probably ended Albert’s life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her stomach lurched, and
she turned away, lifting her handkerchief to her mouth and inhaling the scented
cloth slowly. Although she detested her parents <i>selling </i>her to Albert
Greenwood to keep the money flowing between the two wealthy families, she
didn’t want the old man dead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After the initial shock
of walking into the room and seeing him on the floor murdered, Courtney’s body
shook violently. Her mind clouded with confusion and mixed emotions. Part of
her wanted to be relieved that she wasn’t going to get married today, and yet,
from what she could tell, someone had wanted him out of their lives, too. <i>They’ll
blame me!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her throat constricted as
panic welled within her. Albert’s family – three sons, and two daughters, who
were all older than Courtney – hadn’t wanted their father to marry her. It
didn’t matter that she agreed with them, she had to obey her parents and marry
the older man. His children hated her, no matter how nice she tried to be with
them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The rhythm of her
heartbeat accelerated, and her head throbbed with indecision. She should alert
one of Albert’s servants about his demise, and yet, she hesitated. Since she
was the first to find him, she’d be their main suspect. She’d read mystery
novels before. She knew how the law worked. She also knew that they would
consider her guilty until she proved herself innocent. At this moment, she
didn’t know how that would ever happen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On unsteady legs, she
slowly moved toward the door. She must leave. Now! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She opened the door and
stepped into the hallway. The butler was the only person to see her this
morning since he had let her inside the house. Her parents hadn’t arrived yet,
and she must leave before anyone else noticed her presence. The fewer people
who could testify that she was here, the better her chances were of not being
hanged for a crime she hadn’t committed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Instead of heading out
the front door, she turned the other way and hurried toward one of the side
doors down a back hallway. Voices were heard from somewhere in the house, but
she couldn’t tell who it was or where they were. Dizziness assailed her, and
she bumped her shoulder against the wall. A picture that had been hanging fell
to the floor. The wooden frame broke into several pieces. She couldn’t stop.
Freedom was what she needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her head filled with fog,
and it seemed the door that would lead to her escape was so far ahead as if she
were entering a tunnel. Courtney continued, placing one foot in front of the
other. <i>I can do this… I must do this!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Finally, she reached the
door and turned the knob. Two steps later, she was outside. Inhaling deeply,
she tried to clear her head. She needed to be alert to get away. But where
would she go? Returning home to Butte was out of the question. That would be
the first place the sheriff looked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Courtney took cautious
steps around the house, staying as close to the red-brick as she possibly
could. As she passed behind tall bushes, the twigs pulled strands of hair out
of the coil her maid had wrapped the bulk of her hair into. Courtney didn’t
care. Her main focus was to leave without being spotted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The stables, just down
the slope, had some servants moving around inside. She stopped and held her
breath. From her viewpoint, she didn’t know if they noticed her or not. She
couldn’t let them see her at all. Moving slower now, she kept an eye on the
stables, wondering if anyone would come out to see to her needs. She prayed
they didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As she reached the front
of the house, she realized her buggy was still out front with her luggage tied
to the back, and she expelled a relieved sigh. Everything she owned was in
those three trunks. She could leave Helena and never return. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tears stung her eyes as
Courtney made the decision. She’d leave her family, her friends, and all those
things she held dear to her heart. Then again, she would have had to do that
after she married Albert, anyway. However, this time, there was no other choice
but to follow the road and let it take her far away from here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She glanced around the
yard, making sure nobody saw her, and darted toward her buggy. Just before
reaching the vehicle, a terrified scream ripped through the air, coming from
inside the mansion. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Inwardly, Courtney
groaned. One of the servants had found Albert. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She wouldn’t find a
better time than now to make a run for it. The servants would be rushing inside
the house to see where the scream had come from. Courtney couldn’t wait a
moment longer. She dashed toward her buggy and climbed inside. The hem of her
dress caught on the step and ripped. A ruined dress didn’t matter to her at the
moment, and she grabbed the reins and whipped them in the air, urging her horse
forward. Instead of taking the main road, she went off the trail and into the
woods, following other paths. She couldn’t go as fast as she wanted, but she
tried to get out of this area as quickly as she could. People would be looking
for her very soon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The image of Albert’s
wrinkled, palish-gray face popped into her mind again. Her stomach lurched just
like before. The old codger didn’t deserve to die. Even though the idea of
marriage to him made her physically ill, he still had a good ten or twenty
years left to live.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Several hours passed, and
thankfully, nobody followed her. As she took in her surroundings, she couldn’t
place where she was. Her hands ached from gripping the reins so tightly, but
her heart wrenched in agony. Fear was still the underlying emotion in her gut,
but it also was the very thing that kept her moving.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Up ahead, she noticed a
town. She would have to find something to eat before continuing on her journey.
That would be the only way for her to keep going forward. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As soon as she saw people
moving in the street, she slowed down her horse and straightened her shoulders.
She mustn’t look like she was running away. Instead, she must appear that
driving her buggy was normal and that she was going to visit a friend.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A few people glanced her
way, but thankfully, nobody knew her, nor did they question her motivation. As
she approached the town hall, she noticed a little wagon out front with a
canopy over a table that sat on the side. Written across a thick board were the
words – <i>Mail-order Brides.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Courtney had read ads in
the newspaper about ranchers looking for brides. She felt sorry for the woman
who had to sink to such pitiful circumstances. It was difficult to imagine what
a woman would have to suffer through in order to decide to marry someone they’d
never met before.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The man standing by the
table, dressed as a preacher in his long black robes as he held a Bible, looked
up at her. His gaze swept over her once before he smiled widely. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Pardon me, miss.” He
moved in front of the horse, stopping her progress. “Do you believe in guardian
angels?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Irritation grew over her.
This wasn’t the time to talk about Heaven. “Yes, but please, sir, I need you to
move.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As he stepped closer, he
petted the horse. “Because I believe your guardian angel has led you to me.” He
pointed to his wagon. “You appear to be down on your luck, so let me tell you
how to find your future.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I appreciate your
concern, but I’m fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“But you’re not fine.” He
moved closer as his gaze shifted to her messy hair, and then down to the bottom
of her ripped gown that was still hooked on the step. “You look like a woman
who needs help.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I don’t,” she snapped.
“Please, just move aside so that I can pass.” She didn’t want to cause a
commotion here in the road, only because if the sheriff came looking for her,
he’d ask the people in this town, and she didn’t want anyone to remember her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Miss, please consider
being a mail-order bride. I have a list of men looking for someone to manage
their homes and be mothers to their children. These men <i>need </i>good,
upstanding, women like yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Although she didn’t want
to give in, this might be the only way to make this man leave her alone. Of
course, signing up didn’t mean she actually had to go through with it. “Fine,
what do I need to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The middle-aged preacher
grinned and motioned toward his tent. “If you could come over here, I’ll show
you what needs to be done.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He helped guide the horse
closer to his wagon and then assisted her as she climbed down. The preacher
even removed the ripped hem of her dress from the step. Courtney pulled her arm
away from him once she could stand on her own, and she walked to the table with
him. A ledger was unfolded in front of her with many names and locations. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“All of these men are
looking for a bride?” she questioned.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Indeed, miss. They are
praying for kind women like yourself to help them in their time of need.” He
pointed to one of the lines. “Just write your name next to the man you want,
and then you send him a telegraph to let him know you are interested in being
his bride.” The preacher shrugged. “It’s really that easy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She took a pencil and
wrote <i>Courtney</i> before realizing she shouldn’t reveal her true name. She
quickly wrote <i>Parker </i>as her surname, since that was her mother’s maiden
name, and the only one she could think of right away. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Splendid,” the preacher
said as he wrote on another piece of paper the name and location of the man who
was looking for a bride. “Now, take this and send him a telegraph.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She took the paper from
him, hating that she had to do this. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I must say, Mr. Timothy
Graham is a very lucky man.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Courtney nodded and
turned back to her buggy. As she climbed back up to the seat, the preacher
said, <i>God bless you</i>, and drew a cross in the air. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her heart clenched. Was
God really blessing her, or was he disappointed in her for not staying and
trying to make Albert Greenwood’s family and servants believe that she was
innocent?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She gripped the reins and
urged the horse away from the wagon. Her weary mind spun with alternative
plans. She was on the run, and yet, wasn’t the best place to hide being married
as a mail-order bride? Surely, the sheriff wouldn’t think to look there. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But no. Courtney wouldn’t
sink to marrying a stranger. It was almost as bad as marrying an older man that
was closer to her grandfather’s age than her father’s. There must be other ways
to be on the run and start a new life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Making a hasty decision
right now would ruin her life completely. She must take a few days and think
about the consequences first… and pray that the Lord would lead her in the
right direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p>Amazon link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dentons-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B08CQ4TJ6X">https://www.amazon.com/Dentons-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B08CQ4TJ6X</a></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Series link - <a href="https://www.authormariehiggins.com/runaway-brides-series">https://www.authormariehiggins.com/runaway-brides-series</a></span></p><p></p>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-65437192048214465872020-09-01T12:17:00.001-06:002020-09-01T12:17:10.294-06:00NEW RELEASE - Hannah's Hardship<p>I'm very excited for this story. Those of you who know my style of writing, know that I like to bend boundaries - stretch the limits of my imagination. Well, in Hannah's Hardship, it's a mail-order bride romance, but I've pushed the line with this plot. I hope you enjoy reading it!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5QakrRV9DJRS-2TRmEhgz0-mVkb4hhvXQdv-jKM0fTwVeUU4ACq7xT23b_HKdoDjMEjTwvrFcjaBfDmmMlcwmw2L2FqW3I3ziJ8rJIAa-6LjvlKkn5ER39tFCQyNLgU-EPESrInZgXGLR/s2048/Hannah%2527s+Hardship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5QakrRV9DJRS-2TRmEhgz0-mVkb4hhvXQdv-jKM0fTwVeUU4ACq7xT23b_HKdoDjMEjTwvrFcjaBfDmmMlcwmw2L2FqW3I3ziJ8rJIAa-6LjvlKkn5ER39tFCQyNLgU-EPESrInZgXGLR/s640/Hannah%2527s+Hardship.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div dir="ltr"><div><p><i>Montana, 1889</i></p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Hannah Ross had finally hit rock bottom. There was only one way to go from here. Up. And she was determined not to let life drop her again.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She stepped off the stagecoach and took in her new surroundings. Stumptown appeared to be a friendly small town. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Hopefully, she’d left behind her ruined reputation in Colorado, never to see anyone from that area again. Her mother understood and gave her blessing.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Here’s your trunk, ma’am.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Hannah glanced at the stagecoach driver, who unloaded the passenger’s trunks. She moved to hers and grasped the handle, and then collected her satchel. Since she had traveled quite often over the past five years, she knew how to pack light.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Taking a deep breath for courage, she moved out of the street and to the boardwalk. From the conversations in the stagecoach as the four passengers neared the logging town, there weren’t many women who took up residence in Stumptown. If Hannah had known that, she might not have answered the newspaper ad for a mail-order bride.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Since she was sixteen years of age, men had been attracted to her. At first, Hannah had been innocent to their charm and lies, but it wasn’t until she had turned twenty-five before she learned a hard lesson. She placed her hand on her belly and frowned. She would soon have a child because she had believed that a man actually loved and wanted to take care of her.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Of course, it had all been a lie.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When she discovered she was pregnant, she confronted the man who had once professed his undying love to her. The next day, he skipped town. Two days later, rumors were already circling through the social-mills, and people were gossiping behind her back. Hannah couldn’t walk down the street without people throwing her glares. Some mothers even turned their children away from Hannah when she greeted them with a smile.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Hannah blinked back the tears. She wasn’t a terrible person, so why did everyone judge her so harshly?</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">That’s when she decided to get out of Colorado. Being a mail-order bride was the only way she knew how to survive. However, she needed to consummate the marriage quickly in order for her soon-to-be husband to think the child was his.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Hannah glanced up and down the street and at the handful of lumberjacks who had come into town. So far, she only saw one woman, and the lady looked old enough to be Hannah’s grandmother.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Perhaps she should not have answered the first newspaper ad she read. Or, she should have asked around about the odd little place of Stumptown, before agreeing to this mail-order marriage. Being in close spaces with so many men made her nervous.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She sighed impatiently and looked up the street again. Perhaps her groom wasn’t going to meet her, after all. Hannah might have to ask around to see who knew Mr. Easton. She’d come this far, and she was determined to find a husband today.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Pardon me, miss.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She turned and rested her gaze on the middle-aged man behind her. He squinted through his spectacles at her as if not seeing her very well. The man was overly plump and didn’t have a lot of hair on the top of his head. Instead, the hair covered the sides and hung low, nearly to his shoulders.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes?” she replied.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Are you lost?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She nearly spit out a laugh. Thankfully, she was in control and held it in. “Actually, sir, I’m not lost, but I am looking for someone.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Eh?” He leaned closer, turning his left ear toward her.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Apparently, this man had both sight <i>and </i>hearing problems. “I’m looking for Mr. Easton.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Which one? There are three Easton brothers.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><i>Oh, dear. </i>Three brothers? “Um, I’m not sure.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“The brothers are Maverick, Bryan, and Joel.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She tried to remember if during her brief correspondence via telegram with Mr. Easton if he had ever used his first name. Sadly, she couldn’t recall. But none of those names were familiar. </p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“She’s with me, Cooper.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When another man came up behind her from out of nowhere, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Why couldn’t men just greet her naturally? Did it make them feel powerful to scare her?</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The rugged cowboy grinned as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. His hat rode low on his forehead, shadowing his eyes. The whiskers on his face appeared that he and razors were not very good friends. However, it was the stench of alcohol that made her blood turn cold with fear. She knew firsthand how drunkards acted around her, and she wanted to get far away from this one.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Please, sir,” she said in a steady voice that didn’t match her quaky nerves, “leave me alone.” When he didn’t do as she asked, she turned her pleading gaze to the older man. “Please, help me?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The cowboy laughed. “Cooper ain’t gonna help anyone. He can’t even help himself.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The older man frowned, and his gaze dropped to the ground, obviously bothered by the cowboy’s rude comment. She shot a glare at the drunk. “You will release me, sir, or I will scream for someone else to assist me.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Come now, my beauty. Ya know we were meant to be t’gether.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Disgust twisted her stomach. “I’m waiting for—”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Take your hands off her. Now!”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She hadn’t realized another man was standing by her until she heard his strong voice. The man with broad shoulders, who appeared to be around her age – give or take a few years – threw the drunkard a glare. When the cowboy looked at the other man, his body stiffened, but he slowly dropped his arms from around her.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. Then again, the last few years of her life have been nothing but problems.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“No need gettin’ upset, Mav,” the cowboy said, “I was just teasin’ her.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The look on <i>Mav’s </i>face clearly let her know that he wouldn’t tolerate the cowboy’s playfulness. Although Mav was younger than the cowboy by a few years, his tall length and strength were evident. Hannah was certain many men feared him.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He grasped the cowboy's arm, pulling him away from her. “Fred, go home and sleep it off before I summon the sheriff.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes, sir.” The cowboy stumbled away, tossing a few scowls at the man with broad shoulders.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Mav ran his gaze up and down Hannah’s attire. She’d worn one of her nicer traveling suits, one that she had specifically made for her trip to see her mother in Ft. Collins. Her mother worked for the wealthy Colorado rancher, Wayne Lindon. At the time, she’d worn the outfit to impress Wayne. Now, because of the dusty journey, she felt like a dust rag.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When the tall man’s gaze finally met hers, he nodded. “Can I assume you are Hannah Ross?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Her heart lifted in relief. “Indeed, I am. And are you Mr. Easton?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He nodded. “Yes, I’m Maverick. Forgive me for being late.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She tried to smile through her jittery nerves. She hadn’t expected Mr. Easton to be such a handsome man. His sandy-brown hair was shorter than most of the men she’d seen so far on this trip, but it made him appear more educated and refined. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen – like gazing into a beautiful summer sky on a clear day. She couldn’t help wonder why a man like this would want to find a mail-order bride. Then again, her mother’s boss, handsome Wayne Lindon, had done that very thing, too.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t believe you are late,” she told him. “I think the stagecoach was just early.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Maverick gave her half a smile. At least that was better than the scowl he’d given the drunkard. The one he threw at the cowboy was fierce. How many men cowered to Mr. Easton’s command when he looked that way? Hopefully, she wasn’t marrying a man who easily lost his temper.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Is this your trunk?” He pointed to the luggage beside her.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes. Just one trunk and my satchel.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He lifted her trunk with ease, setting it on his shoulder as he headed away from the boardwalk. She nodded to the older man with the spectacles who continued to watch her and Mr. Easton with a dropped jaw and hurried after her soon-to-be husband. He stopped at a wagon that was the cleanest one she’d seen in a long time and placed the trunk in the back. She handed the satchel to him, and he placed it next to the trunk.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">As he assisted her up to the seat of the wagon, she realized how big his hands were – and calloused. At least that meant he was a hard worker. That bit of information was good to know.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Maverick climbed in next to her before taking the reins and urging the two-horse team forward.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Every few seconds, he glanced her way before returning his attention back to the road. Uncomfortable, she shifted on the seat, wringing her hands in her lap. Should she start the conversation? If so, what could she possibly talk about with a stranger?</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Miss Ross,” he said, breaking the awkwardness between them. “I must say, I’m surprised that you’re so lovely.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She hitched a quick breath. Was that his way of complimenting her? He definitely needed to work on his charm. “Well… thank you.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He chuckled. “I thought the only women who signed up to be mail-order brides were… well, plain-looking.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Do you know anyone who married a mail-order bride?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Not personally, no, but I have acquaintances who know men who have.” He paused briefly. “So, why did you want to be a mail-order bride?” His gaze moved over her dress again. “I mean, you don’t appear to be down on your luck, and I’d think that you attract men easily.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She gritted her teeth. If he only knew. But no, she wouldn’t tell him the real reason. However, she could confess what led up to her pregnancy.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“A few years ago, I had decided to join a traveling group of stage performers against my widowed mother’s warnings. I didn’t realize how that life-altering decision would ruin my life. People spread false rumors about me, and I was no longer considered a <i>lady</i>. Men didn’t look at me as wife material any longer.” Hannah inhaled deeply, trying not to allow her past to upset her. “Soon, I realized that if I didn’t find a husband, I would be considered an old maid, and yet, I couldn’t find a man who wanted me as a wife.” She shrugged. “That’s why I answered your ad in the newspaper.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She waited for him to say something, or to realize he didn’t want her. But he continued guiding the team of horses away from the center of town. It was too early to sigh with relief, though. Not until the ring was on her finger, and their marriage was consummated.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">A gust of wind seemed to come out of nowhere, and her hair blew around her face. Perhaps she should have worn a bonnet, after all. This was another thing her mother had tried to instill in Hannah, but her rebellious side wanted to be free from restrictions of all kinds.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She grasped the bulk of her hair and tried to hold it still. He glanced at her again and grinned.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You’ll need to get used to Montana’s weather, and especially the wind.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She nodded. “I shall try to adapt quickly.” There was a lengthy pause between them as the wind seemed to pick up speed. “What about you, Mr. Easton? You are a handsome man, so why did you decide to seek a mail-order bride?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Chuckling, he removed his hat as it threatened to fly with the wind a few times. “You were in town a few minutes ago, Miss Ross. Did you see all of the single young women I had to choose from?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She tried not to grin. “True. I didn’t see many women at all. However, you could have gone to another town to find a wife.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I could have, I suppose, but I didn’t want to.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Maverick’s attention stayed on the road. As she studied his profile, she could see there was something else – something he wasn’t telling her. “Go on,” she encouraged. “Why don’t you want to find a wife elsewhere?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“The truth is…” He sighed heavily and pulled the wagon over on the road before bringing the horses to a stop. He faced Hannah, looking deep into her eyes. “I really don’t want to get married.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m ready for a wife and children, yet. However, my grandfather feels differently.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">At first, her gut twisted. He didn’t <i>want </i>to get married. He <i>had </i>to, instead. Would she have time to find another man who would accept her as his wife, and especially, the illegitimate child growing inside her?</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Why…” She cleared her throat. “Why is your grandfather involved in this particular decision?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You see, Miss Ross, my grandfather still owns the lumber yard, along with the sawmills. He has grandsons who do the actual running of each place, but we still have no financial backing except for him. Just recently, he has decided that his grandsons need to find wives. He wants us all wed within six months, or we’ll forfeit our inheritance.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She gasped audibly, not expecting to hear <i>that </i>explanation. “Why that’s… barbaric. That is absolutely medieval. I didn’t think wealthy people still blackmailed their families in such a way anymore.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Chuckling, he rolled his eyes. “Grandfather is a very backward thinker, so for him to give us that stipulation doesn’t surprise me.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Are your two other brothers going to look for mail-order brides, too?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He shrugged. “I’m not certain how they plan on finding their brides, but for me, the only way to get this completed quickly was to find a mail-order bride.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She breathed slightly easier. At least he wasn’t sending her on her way. And yet, she either needed to charm him enough to consummate the marriage, or she needed to confess. However, he admitted to not being ready for a wife and children.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Oh, decisions, decisions…</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Another gust of wind blew from behind her, and she fell against Maverick. His arms circled around her, keeping her from falling off the seat. She pressed her hands against his chest and looked up at his face. His forehead wrinkled with worried lines as his gaze looked up at the sky.</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I fear, Miss Ross, that the winds from the canyons are too strong to continue our journey.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What shall we do?”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He glanced down at her and shrugged. “Find someplace to hide the wagon and horses before they blow away.” He nodded. “And, if we were wise, we’d hide with them.”</p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Buy link - https://www.amazon.com/Hannahs-Hardship-Westward-Hearts-Mail-Order-ebook/dp/B085DS7TZF</p></div><br /></div><div><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman", "new york", times, serif; font-size: 16px;" /></div><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-11403715382143610312020-08-05T20:36:00.000-06:002020-08-05T20:36:16.797-06:00Mail-Order Adelaine I'm so excited about my mail-order bride books. I hope you'll check them all out. But for now, let me tease you with a chapter from my new release, "Mail-Order Adelaine".<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_OXP-y6eH_P7v4-vqwKXQGZwnCYhWgP6lwtR_mi7EwaShCGnYBKTtN7oL65zax8K9usjCeaSeAOUN_H-ozzpmbTKizbOq1K0y8wRZnnr8QeOWpZlpWWfyCZfICiSwMLsaYJHcvQ69BtE/s2048/Mail+Order+Adeline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_OXP-y6eH_P7v4-vqwKXQGZwnCYhWgP6lwtR_mi7EwaShCGnYBKTtN7oL65zax8K9usjCeaSeAOUN_H-ozzpmbTKizbOq1K0y8wRZnnr8QeOWpZlpWWfyCZfICiSwMLsaYJHcvQ69BtE/s640/Mail+Order+Adeline.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal">Montana, 1877 <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine Campbell’s future appeared
cloudy, but she would make the best of it. She had to since there was no place
else to go.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">As she stood at Missoula, Montana’s
depot, Adelaine searched the platform, looking for the people who had promised
to pick her up. She was a stranger to Montana, being born and raised in Wyoming,
but already she loved the green, lush hillsides, and for being in a historic
town, the buildings were well-kept in their original condition.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Missoula was where she’d make her
new home, even if it was under dire circumstances.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nervously, she shifted from one
foot to the other as she moved her gaze to everyone in the crowd, wondering if
they would be the person to pick her up and take her to Blue Creek Ranch. They
all passed her by, not even giving her a second glance. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Impatiently, she sighed. The
correspondence she’d had with Mrs. Turner instructed Adelaine to meet her at the
train depot at precisely one o’clock. As if on cue, the courthouse’s clock
tower from across the street struck one, announcing the hour. Still, Mrs.
Turner hadn’t arrived.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine’s gut twisted. Had she
made a mistake in coming here? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">There were many things in her life
that she regretted or wished she’d done better, but she couldn’t focus on them.
Instead, she must look at what she’d accomplished. She’d taken care of her
mother and younger sister for the last eighteen months, being their sole supporter,
but working at the Walton’s Mercantile didn’t give her much of a social life.
However, it taught her how to help people, and most importantly… to have
patience. Even though she still struggled with that trait from time to time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">She would always cherish the
moments she spent taking care of her mother as she lay in bed, dying of
Tuberculosis. Her mother had always been a cheerful, positive, and uplifting
woman, even during her last moments on earth. Adelaine had an excellent example
to live her own life after.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where
is Mrs. Turner?</i> Adelaine grumbled impatiently. What was taking the woman so
long? Or… had Dallas Remington found another mail-order bride that he wanted
instead?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Frowning, Adelaine sighed. What
probably happened was that Mrs. Turner noticed Adelaine and her two-year-old
sister, Charity, and decided that Adelaine wasn’t the right woman to wed the
rancher. After all, the newspaper article for a mail-order bride that Adelaine
had first responded to had mentioned <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no
children</i>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine cursed her wayward father
for the millionth time. This was all his fault! When Ma realized she was dying,
she’d written to Mavin Campbell and asked him to come and collect Charity, his
illegitimate daughter, that he’d left on Ma’s front porch right after the girl
was born. Ma, being the kind and loving woman she was, couldn’t turn the girl
away. Although Adelaine loved her sister, she couldn’t raise her. Especially,
not when her soon-to-be husband wouldn’t allow her to have children of her own.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">What else was Adelaine to do when
her father never came for Charity? Adelaine glanced at Charity, sitting on the
wooden bench, holding her rag doll, swinging her legs back and forth. The poor
girl had nowhere to go since both her biological parents didn’t want her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Releasing a gush of air between her
teeth, Adelaine squared her shoulders. From her correspondence with Dallas
Remington, she knew that he was dedicated to his cattle ranch and his children.
That was enough for Adelaine to know he would be a good husband. She also prayed
that he would understand why she had to bring her younger sister along.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Pardon me, Miss?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine swung toward the voice of the
woman. Not far from her, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair stuffed under her
bonnet and a thin face, peered questionably at Adelaine. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes?” She took a step closer to
the woman.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I’m looking for Miss Adelaine
Campbell. Is that you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I’m Adelaine Campbell,” she
answered with almost too much enthusiasm. “Are you Mrs. Turner?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Indeed, I am.” She shook
Adelaine’s hand. “I’m Blue Creek Ranch’s foreman’s wife.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“It’s nice to meet you
face-to-face, finally.” Adelaine smiled. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“I agree.” The woman’s gaze skimmed
over Adelaine briefly before hopping to Charity. “Are you, um…” She looked back
at Adelaine. “Ready to go?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes.” Her heartbeat whacked
crazily against her ribs. It was now confession time. “However, there is a
slight change of plans that I didn’t foresee.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Mrs. Turner arched a thin eyebrow.
“There is?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine swallowed hard, hoping her
voice wouldn’t squeak while trying to explain. “I had to bring my sister
along.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sister</i>?” The woman gasped, looking back at Charity. “But… she is so
young.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes, well… Charity and I have
different mothers.” Adelaine didn’t want to go into details. “But after my
mother died, Charity’s mother wouldn’t take and raise her.” She shrugged. “The
poor girl has nowhere else to go.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Mrs. Turner’s expression grew dim,
and she wrung her hands against her middle. The woman’s thinning lips told
Adelaine that there might not be a wedding after all. Her mind spun with ideas
of how to convince the other woman that Charity needed her big sister.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Mrs. Turner,” Adelaine said in a
rush. “Do you have children? If so, you must understand how difficult it is to
have a family ripped apart. I’m all the girl has left since her parents don’t
want her.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The woman’s sigh and sag of her
shoulders gave Adelaine hope that the woman might change her mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Mr. Remington won’t be pleased
about this.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Why?” Adelaine hated to be nosy,
but she just had to know. “After all, doesn’t he have two children of his own?
The newspaper ad mentioned he had a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes, Tobias and Susan.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine took a hesitant step
toward the other woman. “Then why can’t I bring Charity along? If Mr. Remington
is worried about feeding her, she doesn’t eat much, and I can share my plate
with her.” Gingerly she touched Mrs. Turner’s forearm. “Please. My mother would
be turning over in her grave if she knew I couldn’t care for my sister.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Mrs. Turner studied Adelaine carefully
before moving her gaze to Charity and looking at her for the next uncomfortable
moments. Adelaine silently prayed that the woman’s heart would be touched.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Well…” Mrs. Turner licked her
lips. “I suppose it isn’t right to separate you two since you are her only
family.” She grew quiet as she stared at Adelaine. “However, to convince Mr.
Remington that the girl needs to stay, we cannot let him know she’s your
sister.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Why not?” Adelaine blinked rapidly
as her mind tried to find a reason for what the other woman was saying. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“We must let Mr. Remington think
that Charity is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your </i>child.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine sucked in a quick breath.
“My child? Oh, no. That will not do. I’ve never been married, and Mr.
Remington… well, he’d figure that out, wouldn’t he?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Mrs. Turner flipped her hand. “He is
only marrying you to gain a mother for his children. That’s all. He’ll never
know unless you tell him, and this secret will be ours. I won’t even tell my
husband.” She stepped closer to Charity and smiled. “Hello. Would you like to
come with me to a big ranch with horses?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Wasee?” Charity’s eyes widened.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Mrs. Turner glanced up at Adelaine,
confused.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Wasee is her name for horsey.”
Adelaine chuckled softly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Nodding, the older woman returned
her gaze to Charity and put forth her hand. “Come on. Let’s go see the wasees.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Charity jumped off the bench and
grasped the woman’s hand. The cute little blonde girl looked up at Adelaine
with big, blue eyes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“You comin’?” Charity said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Of course, sweetie.” Adelaine
reached down and picked up the trunk that held all of hers and Charity’s
belongings. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">They walked toward a wagon. A man
with shaggy red hair sat in the driver’s seat, whistling. When he saw Mrs.
Turner, he jumped down and hurried toward them, but as his gaze moved to
Charity, his footsteps faltered.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Who is this?” He motioned toward
the little girl.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Her name is Charity. And this,”
the woman nodded to Adelaine, “is her mother, Adelaine Campbell.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mother…</i>
Adelaine groaned. Could she really pull off this deception? Then again, did she
have a choice?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The man doffed his hat and nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Campbell.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Adelaine? This is my husband,
Clark Turner.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">She smiled politely. “It’s a
pleasure, sir.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Here, let me take that from you,
Miss Campbell.” He hauled her trunk to the back of the wagon before assisting
both her and Charity up onto the buckboard. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine pulled her sister closer
to her as the wagon began to move. With her heart in her throat, Adelaine
worried over the outcome of her soon-to-be marriage. Starting it off with a lie
wasn’t a good thing at all. Yet, Mrs. Turner mentioned the marriage would be in
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">name only</i>, so would it even matter?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Her heart clenched in sadness. Why
had she expected something more? She’d been a fool to think she would marry a
man who would love her and be with her forever. It had hurt to watch her mom
raise Adelaine without a father around, and she hadn’t wanted that type of
marriage. However, Dallas Remington had two children of his own, so at least he
was a better father than Adelaine’s.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Charity?” Adelaine said in a soft
voice, looking down at her sister.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Yes, Addie?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Smiling, she laughed softly. “You
mustn’t call me that any longer. You must call me Mommy.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The girl shrugged and rested her
head on Adelaine’s lap. She stroked Charity’s hair as they made their way
toward the ranch, hoping that Mr. Remington would have a kind heart and not
turn them away. After Ma’s death, a few people in town gave them some money
that would help them get by until the wedding, but if Mr. Remington was going
to turn them away… How would she and Charity live?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">She wasn’t certain how much time
slipped by, but soon, they were entering a ranch. Several heads of cattle were
grazing in the fields. She shook Charity awake and pointed to the animals. The
girl gasped and sat up, rubbing her eyes and taking in the sights. Adelaine
watched with interest as she noticed two stables, and at least ten small cabins
lined nearby. Several men, who were in the yard or walked out of the cabins,
stopped and looked at her with wide, curious eyes. She nodded politely.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Once the wagon continued up a
knoll, away from these buildings, she was able to get her first glimpse of the
house. Her jaw dropped in awe. Dallas Remington must be very wealthy to have
such a grand home – or should she label it an estate? Never in her life had she
seen a house with so many windows. The three-story manse also had a wooden
wrap-around porch that was painted white. The yard was well taken care of, as
was the simple flower garden off to the side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Adelaine’s heart calmed. Not even
in her dreams had she imagined such a cheerful place, and she prayed the
occupants inside were just as pleasant.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The wagon came to a stop out in
front of the porch, and Mr. Turner hopped down before helping his wife off. He
then turned and reached a hand to assist Adelaine and Charity. The little girl
blinked with excitement as she gazed at the looming house in front of them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Home?” she asked, turning her
focus to Adelaine.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Although her smile was shaky, she
didn’t know how to answer her sister’s question. Home? She could only pray that
Mr. Remington would let them stay.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Suddenly, the front door opened,
and a man limped out slowly, leaning heavily on a cane. His narrowed gaze moved
over her, from the top of her un-bonneted head, over her beige blouse and
calico skirt, all the way down to her dusty booted heels. He looked to be in
his early thirties, not older than thirty-five, she surmised. His full head of
hair was black with a few streaks of lighter hair. He sported a beard, but it
was much shorter than some of the men she’d seen already on the ranch. The
man’s broad shoulders and slim waist made him look superior, but when he used
his cane to limp forward on the porch and looked at Charity, his expression
turned harsh.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">He raised a steady finger, pointing
at the little girl. “Who is she and what is she doing here?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">His booming voice made Adelaine’s
insides shake. Charity gasped and pressed her face against Adelaine’s side.
They were doomed!<o:p></o:p></p><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Buy link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B085DF9QS4">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B085DF9QS4</a></div><div><br /></div><div>FIND OTHER MAIL-ORDER BRIDE STORIES HERE - <a href="https://www.authormariehiggins.com/mail-order-brides">https://www.authormariehiggins.com/mail-order-brides</a></div><div><br /></div>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-73495759374963439442020-07-21T20:29:00.003-06:002020-07-21T20:29:55.479-06:00Taming the Carefree BillionaireIt's finally here! This story really should have been written and released in January, but then life got in the way. But, I'm very happy to announce the third book that I've written with my sister is available! <br />
<br />
Here is the first chapter for your enjoyment.<br />
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<br />
Carefree billionaire, Thomas Powers, is slacking in his duties. He’s living a wild lifestyle and letting the family winery business slip away from his priorities. It’s not until he meets a headstrong photographer when he realizes this is the first woman who doesn’t melt whenever she looks at him. It’s a challenge, but he’s determined to change her mind. He’s also determined to get rid of a problem in his life – the pesky imaginary man who proclaims to be Thomas’ guardian angel.<br /><br />Morgan Foster is a photographer for a tabloid paper, and when she suspects there’s more to the story on one of her assignments, she’s determined to find out what is really happening. Unfortunately, that means she must work with the arrogant man who enjoys playing with women’s hearts. Being nice to him is difficult, only because she doesn’t want him to eventually capture her heart.<br />
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<h1>
ONE<o:p></o:p></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Come on baby… Daddy needs a new
jet.” Thomas Powers shook the red dice in his hand as he stared down the craps
table. He’d been playing for an hour now and winning. He’d never considered
himself a professional gambler, but he did like to play once in a while. And
today… he was literally on a roll.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His good friend, Cole Langston,
whose brother owned the casino, put this evening’s events together. Since it
was Cole’s turn to find the entertainment for Thomas and their billionaire <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">groupies, </i>this was the perfect spot. Angie
Birmingham was one of these groupies. Thomas had known her since grade school
and only considered her a friend, even though he knew she wanted more. But
today she was his good luck charm, so… if the stars were aligned correctly, she
just might get her wish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Angie stood by him so closely that
she could have been the one wearing his clothes and rolling the dice. He held
out his hand in front of her face. “Blow some good luck on me, Ang.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her eyes danced with excitement as she
blew on his hand. From the smell of her breath, she’d been drinking much more
than he’d realized. Hopefully, her intoxicated breath would put some kind of
spell over the dice so that he could continue his winning streak. Already his
total was up to fifteen thousand dollars. He’d already decided that when he
reached twenty thousand dollars, he’d stop and call it a night. He could already
hear his pillow calling him since he’d been up for forty-eight hours straight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay, here we go,” he said loudly
to the crowd surrounding the table. “I’m going to roll a ten again.” Thomas
didn’t know half of the people at the table – or even at the casino – but since
he was a likable man, when he made friends, he usually kept them for years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Holding his breath, he threw the
dice. The room grew silent, and only the rolling dice was heard knocking
against the gaming table. One of them stopped on the number six, and the other
stopped on… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">four</i>!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The crowd cheered. He whooped with
excitement and grabbed Angie around the waist, swinging her around. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth. The kiss was okay,
but he’d had better – and less alcohol-based.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When Angie tried to deepen the
kiss, he pulled away from her and set her back on her feet. His friends who
stood nearby clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him. Thomas bent and
gathered the winning chips. It was time to end the night, especially before he
lost everything he’d won.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, a flash from the end of
the table drew his attention. A woman in a silky, black figure-hugging dress
with spaghetti-straps stood out from the crowd. It wasn’t that the dark-haired
woman was breathtakingly gorgeous that captured his attention, but it was the
camera she held as she snapped pictures of him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His first reaction was to yell at
her and have someone escort her out of the casino. Thomas had had his share of
nosey tabloid photographers. However, this woman was different somehow. Maybe
it was that she was prettier, but it could have been the look of interest in
her eyes when she lowered the camera and met his gaze.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, don’t stop now, Tommy.”
Angie’s finger toyed with the wavy hair on his nape. “You’re on a roll. I mean,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we </i>are on a roll.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She rested her head against his arm
and peered up at him with glassy eyes, putting on her pouty face. He really
didn’t like pouty faced women. He also didn’t like the smudged dark makeup
under her eyes. Her auburn hair had lost its luster, too. Right now, she looked
like one of those women who hung out in bars and only left when they were
seeing double. He also didn’t like her calling him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tommy </i>– a name he was teased with as a kid in grade school.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He switched his gaze back to the
woman holding the camera. Her eyebrow arched in a judgmental fashion. He could
read her thoughts perfectly without her even saying a word. Obviously, she
wondered why he visually flirted with her when Angie hung all over him like a
shroud. Perhaps after this last roll, he’d shake off his irritating shadow and
meet the new woman he couldn’t stop looking at.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Just one more roll… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please</i>,” Angie purred forcefully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Gradually, the crowd began to
chant. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One more.</i> It didn’t take long
before the whole room echoed the encouraging sentiment. The woman his stare had
been glued on wasn’t part of the chant. She shrugged and lifted the camera back
to her eye and clicked a few more pictures.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Laughing, he joined the group again
and focused back on the game. One more roll wouldn’t hurt… not since he was on
a winning streak. Right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He placed the chips back on the
number ten square and picked up the dice again. The crowd cheered once again,
making him feel that much more important.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Glancing at Angie, he could tell
she was ready to blow on his hand, but he really didn’t want her to this time.
There was no way he wanted her to think he’d be taking her home with him tonight,
especially when his interest had turned to the gorgeous woman in the silky black
dress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay, let’s do this again.” His
voice lifted above the cheering. He shook the dice, trying to ignore Angie who
kept tugging on his sleeve because she wanted to blow on the dice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When he let the dice fly, the room
became quiet once again. One dice landed on five, and the other…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Two hours later, Thomas’ driver
dropped him off at his mansion. Maybe he should have let Angie blow on his hand
again. Good grief! He’d lost twenty thousand dollars with one roll of the dice.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m such an idiot!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
However, what made him more of an
idiot was when he’d confronted the gorgeous lady taking pictures. It had seemed
that his failure was something she’d wanted to cherish. When he’d realized that
she continued to take pictures, he stormed over to her, yanked the camera out
of her hands, and threw it to the floor. The lens had broken off the expensive
camera. At the moment he hadn’t cared. Now he felt guilty. Seeing the flash of
anger in her pretty eyes and hearing the words exiting her mouth, would remain
in his memory for a long time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He didn’t know what had come over
him. Was he embarrassed for acting like a sore loser in front of an attractive
woman? Or was it the insult that he’d lost twenty <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thousand </i>dollars on one roll of the dice? Either way, the night had
ended poorly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marching into his home, he grumbled
under his breath. He’d never forget the way everyone at the table at looked at
him after he’d rolled that last hand. The dice were rigged. That was the only
explanation. One minute he was winning like a king – and the next minute he was
leaving the casino without a dime of his winnings. At least he hadn’t taken any
more money out of his bank account.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He reached the stairs and stopped,
gritting his teeth. He’d learned two very important lessons tonight. Gambling
with his money was not a good idea. The game was addicting… or at least winning
had become addicting. But no more. Next time it was Cole’s turn to pick a party
spot, Thomas would let his friend know they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>going to the casino.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The second lesson was… never let
his anger get so out of control that he chased off women. If he hadn’t broken
her camera, maybe she would have given him her phone number.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He scrubbed his hands through his
hair and yawned. It was definitely time for bed. He’d been up for forty-eight
hours straight. Well, the last time he checked, it had been that long. Now his
bed was really calling him. He’d be surprised if he made it to the mattress
before his eyes closed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Excuse me, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The unfamiliar voice snapped Thomas
around on the step so fast he lost his balance. He quickly grasped the wooden
railing to keep from falling onto the black and white checkered tiles on the
floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Blinking, he tried to focus his
vision on the short, middle-aged man standing in the corridor. The light from
the hall shone on his thinning head of hair, emphasizing a bald spot on top of
his head. The man wore the oddest clothes. The shirt was baggy and entirely too
ruffled around the wrists and neck, but it was the man’s strange shorts that had
Thomas nearly chuckling out loud. They were snug fitting and reached below his
knee… and were fastened with buttons. Not only that, but he wore stockings, and
shoes with large buckles on them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas rubbed his eyes. He was
definitely seeing things. Had he been watching a historical movie sometime
during the forty-eight hours of partying? And really, why would he? He didn’t
like watching historical shows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When he focused back on the
stranger, the bizarre man was still wearing those different clothes. This must
be a joke. “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” He glanced around
him, wondering if one of his other household staff was nearby. But the few that
worked for him usually didn’t stay up waiting for him to come home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Pardon me sir, but my name is
Percy Mills.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Why are you here?” Thomas snapped.
“Are you filling in for one of my workers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Uh, no sir.” He twisted his chubby
hands against his thick waist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Then why are you here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You see, Mr. Powers,” he stepped
closer, “I was sent from…” pausing, he glanced upwards, “a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">higher </i>elevation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas arched an eyebrow. “Alaska?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Uh, no… not quite. You see, sir, I
was sent from… Heaven.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas sure wasn’t hearing
correctly – due to lack of sleep, he guessed. Closing his eyes, he shook his
head, trying to clear the fog out of his tired thoughts. “Yes, because that
makes so much more sense than coming from Alaska.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The man grinned, displaying two crooked
bottom teeth. “Indeed. That does have more logic.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Who sent you?” Thomas snapped,
wishing the man would just tell him so he could go to his room and sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, you see,” Percy stepped
closer, “the man who actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sent </i>me
is named Luke – you know, like the apostle in the Bible?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I
know the Bible. I’ve read it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Percy’s eyes widened. “You have? I
would have never guessed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas fisted his hands. Who was
this man to judge, anyway? And why was he still here?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Anyway,” Percy continued, “Luke is
considered the head of the department. He sent me here to help you get back on
the right road.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road?</i>
Thomas glanced around him. He was inside his house, so why did this man think
Thomas was on the wrong road? Unless… <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Inwardly, he groaned. He was
dreaming. That was it. That would explain the historic-looking man and his
strange language and the odd things he was telling Thomas.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He held up a hand, stopping the
small man. “Right now, the only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">road </i>I
want to be on is the one leading to my bedroom, so if you’ll please just go
back to wherever you came from and let me sleep.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas turned and climbed a few
more stairs, but the man’s buckled shoes clicked on the tiles as he hurried
toward the stairs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But Mr. Powers, I cannot go back.
I’ve been sent to help you and I won’t return until I’ve completed my mission.
Then, and only then, will I get my wings.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas rubbed his throbbing head.
“Oh, I see. You’re a pilot. Well, you might as well look elsewhere because I’m
not hiring. I have my own pilot, thank you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The man chuckled. “No, sir. I’m not
a pilot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas looked over his shoulder at
the man and sighed. How was he going to get rid of him? “Then what are you? A
stewardess?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, Mr. Powers. I’m… your guardian
angel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Purchase link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Taming-Carefree-Billionaire-Tycoons-Book-ebook/dp/B08BY3WYHC">https://www.amazon.com/Taming-Carefree-Billionaire-Tycoons-Book-ebook/dp/B08BY3WYHC</a></div>
<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-39103733134132188512020-07-03T15:38:00.000-06:002020-07-03T18:43:02.053-06:0030-second pitchI'm going to submit my screenplay "How to Win a Man's Love" to Netflix. I need your prayers that this might be where my stories will get noticed. Anyway, this particular website where I'll answer questions about my story, requires the authors to send in a 30-second pitch. So... I did one. What do you think? Does it work??<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dywW6PJWxR5MwvpkV8gIwNSQh9a-Nrf81aCdBi6-lHRHempz2zLhTPOYaepyvBVOeGkeSDu7Mis0O5K_polVA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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<br />
This is the novel that I've adapted into a screenplay.<br />
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<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Cynthia Randall’s neighbor is all wrong for her. Rich and handsome, Damien Giovanni’s love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle isn’t a fit for her. Cyndi wants it all—the love, the romance, the white picket fence, and someday children. When the new Channel Nine Anchorman shows up at her station, Cyndi sets her sights on her old high school crush, Maxwell Harrington. Of course, he doesn’t remember her, but thanks to the Internet, Cyndi is armed and ready to make him her boyfriend—an easy no-fail method “Ten Ways to Win a Man”.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Damien knows Max plays fast and loose, and Damien refuses to let Cyndi’s heart be broken again. He offers to help her. He wants to get closer to Cyndi and show her the wonderful woman he knows she is… and yes, he wants to win her heart.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But which man will Cyndi want? It’s easy to lose track of who is wrong or right.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Amazon - </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Her-Own-Fairy-Godmother-Modern-day-ebook/dp/B00TVF12NE">https://www.amazon.com/Her-Own-Fairy-Godmother-Modern-day-ebook/dp/B00TVF12NE</a>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-51073006214683800092020-06-24T21:58:00.001-06:002020-06-24T21:58:52.562-06:00Vexed in Vermont My third book in The Lovelorn series will be here in a few weeks, so to entice you to add this book to your pre-order list, I'm giving away Chapter One for FREE!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Nicolette McFarland will do anything to prove her worth as a Veterinarian, but when a man from her past comes back to interrupt her life, she doesn’t know what to do. Desperate, she sends a letter to a newspaper article for advice. While waiting for The Lovelorn to respond, Nicolette tries her best to show everyone around her how good she really is. Unfortunately, the vexing man from her past, Captain Adrian Robinson, ends up getting shot, and it’s up to her to help him even if she doesn’t want to. All she knows is that The Lovelorn had better hurry and reply to her letter because Nicolette is in grave danger of losing her heart – or having it broken forever.</span><br />
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<h1>
ONE<o:p></o:p></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vermont, 1880<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dear
Lovelorn,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
have just received some unsettling news, and I’m not sure how to handle it.
I’ve lived with my aunt since I was nine years old, and although my aunt and
her husband have treated me well and raised me to be a lady, those first few
years with her family were not pleasant. My aunt’s stepson was a thorn in my
side since before he joined the military several years ago. Now he’s coming
back and he’ll stay at his father’s house until he can start a new life. I have
been enjoying life and the rituals of courtship, but I still haven’t found
anyone to love, so I must continue to live with my aunt. Please, Lovelorn, tell
me how I can handle my aunt’s womanizing stepson who has no morals. I fear he’ll
return to his childhood tactics that made my life intolerable, and I might not
have the patience to put up with him. What if I strangle him… or shoot him? I’m
anxiously awaiting your advice.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sincerely,
Vexed in Vermont<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nicolette McFarland set her writing
pen down and reread her letter to The Lovelorn who wrote a daily column in the
St. Louis Gazette. She’d been following the column for quite a while and
enjoyed reading the responses from The Lovelorn. It was her turn now. She
needed advice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Adrian Robinson, her aunt’s stepson,
would be surprised to see how much Nicolette had changed. No longer was she the
simpering little girl who cowered every time Adrian came near, nor was she the
cry-baby who went bawling to her aunt whenever Adrian hurt her. But Nicolette
had grown to be a strong, self-assertive woman. Nobody stopped her from
accomplishing her goals, not as long as she could use the brain God had given
her. If Adrian dared try to go up against her this time, he would discover
quickly what kind of a monster he’d turned her into. Revenge would be sweet,
indeed!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It didn’t matter that he was seven
years older than her, she’d show him that he couldn’t hurt her anymore.
However, it would be difficult to forget how many times he locked her in the
cellar late at night, telling her that the devil would find her if she cried or
made a noise. Thankfully, she grew to realize that Satan didn’t work like that
– only the evil Adrian Robinson did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And what about those times he had shortened
Nicolette’s dresses or ripped the seams right before her parties? She’d been
humiliated in front of her friends. There were even times he had tied her up in
the backyard behind the tall hedges and singed the edges of her long light-brown
hair. She reached up and stroked her palm down her wavy locks of hair. Luckily,
her hair had grown back long and was now soft and silky like it should be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nicolette quickly slipped the
letter in an envelope and addressed it to the St. Louis Gazette. She held it
tightly in her hand as she tiptoed out of her bedroom and headed downstairs.
Mornings were usually quiet in the Robinson household. Teddy, Adrian’s father,
owned a profiting lumber store in Woodstock, Vermont, where they had been
living since Nicolette first came to stay with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Teddy and his oldest son, Jacob,
were already at the store this early in the morning. Aunt Betty was probably
still sleeping since the middle-aged woman usually stayed up late at night
attending social functions. The few servants the Robinson’s had knew that they
weren’t really needed until Aunt Betty was awake, especially since Nicolette
could dress herself and fix her own meals – and had done that since she was
nine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She moved into the kitchen and
found an apple. This would work just fine for breakfast. Of course, she also
didn’t want to waste another minute eating when it was most imperative that she
get this letter to the Post Office.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The family dog, Bandit, jumped on
her several times in the stable to get her attention, but she ignored the
long-eared, furry animal and moved to a horse. Trying to eat and saddle a horse
at the same time was a little more time-consuming, but soon she was on her
horse and heading quickly to deliver her letter. The roads were quiet this
morning, thankfully, because usually when riding to town, people were out and
about, which meant that someone would want to stop her and chat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thankfully, she made it to the Post
Office and gave them her letter without any interruptions. She mounted her
horse and took off toward home. Another bonus about being an early riser and
going into town without many people around, was that she could wear her
trousers. Riding astride was much easier with pants. Of course, most men hadn’t
understood her need for comfort. Neither had they understood how she enjoyed
going fishing and actually gutting the fish herself. Nicolette figured that
stemmed back to days of yore when her father took her fishing and taught her so
many things that most girls never learned. And speaking of fishing…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She eyed the Ottaquechee River, and
slowly, her mouth turned up into a grin. She hadn’t been fishing for over two
weeks, and suddenly, the prospect of being one with nature – and getting her feet
wet, of course – became too much of a temptation, and she urged her horse a
little faster.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she came almost to the edge of
town, she saw a tall man with wide shoulders, walk out of the bank. Nicely
dressed in his long over-coat, hat, and of course, his fancy boots, was the
mayor’s son, Eugene Dickson. The man with blondish-brown hair was the most recent
gentleman to take an interest in her. He was sweet and not as serious as the
last man to court her, but Eugene was also not exactly her type of man. He
didn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty… and unless a man was all right with
getting his hands slimy from fish guts, she lost interest in him quickly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ducking her head, she urged the
horse with her heels, trying to get the animal to go faster so that Mr. Dickson
wouldn’t see her. He would be absolutely appalled if he saw her wearing
trousers, and she didn’t want to embarrass him in any way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she kept low, she pushed her
horse faster. Soon, she was out of town and in the wooded area, so she pulled
gently on the reins to slow the animal down. At that moment, a jackrabbit
zipped across the road, startling the horse. The horse came to a sudden stop
and reared, lifting his front legs in the air. Not prepared for this sudden
action, the reins slipped out of her hands and she fell back, tumbling to the
hard ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her breath was knocked out of her,
and for a few moments, she couldn’t breathe. Nicolette struggled to a sitting
position, trying not to panic as she tried to force her lungs to start working
again. Finally, her body allowed breath to come into her lungs, but then other
places on her hurt. Her ankle actually throbbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Great…
just great.</i> Nicolette frowned. A sprained ankle was something she didn’t
need.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She pulled her knee up to her
chest, and tried to feel her ankle without taking the boot off. She didn’t dare
do that right now. The swelling would keep the boot from going back on, and if
she had to walk home she needed the boot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She moved her attention around her
and through the trees on both sides of the dirt road, searching for her horse. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dagnabbit! </i>This was not a good place for
her horse to run off, because now she couldn’t see him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she tried to stand, she gritted
her teeth against the pain shooting through her leg coming from her ankle. She
couldn’t allow the pain to halt her goal, and yet, if she couldn’t stand, she
couldn’t walk, and therefore she’d never get home. She applied pressure to her
foot, but the pain had her crumbling back to the ground and crying out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So perhaps crawling back home was her
only option. She’d do whatever she must, but after a couple of crawls in the
direction of home, she realized her knees weren’t made for this kind of rocky
road. Still… she must keep moving, even if she huffed and puffed the whole way.
At least she realized why Uncle Teddy had named the animal Bucky.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The rush of the nearby Ottaquechee
River was louder than normal. Of course, they had gotten a lot of rain lately,
which was probably the reason why there was so much water, but it was difficult
to hear anything else. She grumbled under her breath again, knowing that she
wouldn’t be going fishing anytime soon – not with her sprained ankle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The neigh from the horse followed
by the crushing of footsteps on the rocky road, caught her attention. She
stopped and swung her attention over her shoulder. The sun nearly blinded her,
but a man’s tall, broad-shouldered figure was silhouetted in the gleam as he
pulled his horse behind him holding the reins. He was dressed in a blue
soldier’s uniform. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Pardon me, but do you need
assistance?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His kindness warmed her heart, but
she was sure she looked a fright… and wearing men’s trousers, no less. “Thank
you. I was bucked from my horse and in my fall, I twisted my ankle.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Then allow me to help.” He walked
closer and stopped, bending down and scooping her in his arms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She gasped from the suddenness and
wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tightly for fear of him dropping her.
Immediately, she noticed his masculine – and clean – scent, as if he’d just
taken a bath not long ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once he situated her in his arms,
she glanced at his face. He was too handsome, and being this close to him made
her nervous. His short hair was black as coal, and his eyes were hazel. In
fact, he reminded her a little of…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When recognition hit, she lost her
breath. Realization turned her blood cold and made her stomach churn. She
prayed the fall on the ground had somehow knocked something loose in her head,
because she didn’t want to think of Adrian Robinson being this handsome… or
sweet. He was exactly opposite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He lifted her on top of his horse
to where she sat sideways, and she quickly made the switch, swinging her legs
astride as she tried to get further away from him when he mounted. That’s when
she realized her hands hadn’t been as cold as the blood flowing through her. In
fact, she felt quite flushed, and just thinking about jumping into the river to
cool off became tempting as each second passed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Th-thank you,” she said, almost
having to spit the words out. She’d never had to thank him before. It was hard
to start now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He glanced up at her and smiled a
devilish, wicked smile. “I couldn’t leave a stranded woman helpless, now could
I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was on the tip of her tongue to
tell him that he’d done this very thing several times when they were younger.
Instead, she gritted her teeth, not daring to say anything at all as he situated
himself behind her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His arms reached around her as he
gripped the reins and urged the animal into a trot. As much as she tried to
hold herself still, her body couldn’t stop from bumping against him. The ride
home would be agony.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you going to tell me where to
take you?” he asked in a deep voice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Warm shivers ran over her back.
Even his voice had changed from what she’d remembered. She would just have to
look at his face while talking to him, because then she’d be reminded of how
utterly mean he’d been to her before he’d left the house to join the military.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It bothered her that he didn’t
recognize her. Then again, it had been almost ten years. She’d been a girl in
pigtails the last time he had seen her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I suspect,” she kept her voice
steady, looking over her shoulder, “that I’m going in the same direction as
you, Adrian Robinson.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His gaze dropped to her face.
Confusion filled his expression as he studied her face, slower this time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She waited for him to remember, but
he still showed no signs of knowing her. It appeared as if she would have to
help his memory along.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s been nearly ten years. I’m
surprised you don’t recognize your stepmother’s niece.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His eyes grew wide and his mouth
hung agape. This time when his gaze moved over her, it was faster, and she
could finally see the light of awareness in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Lottie? That can’t be you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Inwardly, she groaned. She really
hated that nickname he always used to use. Not once had he called her that name
using a pleasant tone. “Yes, it’s me, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nicolette.</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Even with the stunned expression
across his face, his mouth stretched into a grin. “The years have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very </i>kind to you. I cannot see the imp I
used to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Imp?</i>
She fisted her hand, wanting to punch him in the face. However, she refrained.
Making him upset right now wasn’t a good idea. How else would she get home?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“And I must admit,” she replied in
a tight voice, “that those years in the military has turned you into a
strapping man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He straightened, smiling wider. “I
made it to the rank of Captain.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Congratulations. What made you
want to return home?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The light in his eyes dimmed enough
to notice. Even his smile slowly faded. “I knew it was time I did something else
with my life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Part of her wanted to know what had
brought him to that decision, and yet, another part of her didn’t really care.
As long as he found his new life quickly and left the house, she would be very
happy for him. Unfortunately, her luck had never been good when Adrian was
around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“And what about yourself?” He
arched an eyebrow. “Have you made some man happy by becoming his wife?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nicolette hesitated, thinking she
heard a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “It’s really none of your business, but no,
I haven’t. I’ve had other things directing me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He blinked with wide eyes. “Other
things? What could they possibly be?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s for me to know, and you
never to find out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She wasn’t sure what it was about
Adrian that grated on her nerves all the time, but she was tired of this
conversation, and tired of feeling as though he thought less of her just
because she wasn’t married. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He shrugged and moved his attention
back to the road. “As long as it makes you happy, I suppose you can do whatever
you’d like.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She fisted her hands in her lap and
gritted her teeth. In her letter to The Lovelorn, Nicolette worried that she
might strangle – or shoot – Adrian. At this very moment, she wanted to do both,
and she didn’t care what kind of problems it would cause. All she wanted was
him out of her life, and she’d do anything to make it happen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
PRE-ORDER LINK - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08BKTYQTH">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08BKTYQTH</a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-32176247120307813622020-06-10T10:22:00.000-06:002020-06-10T10:22:22.607-06:00Nursing of the Heart - NEW SERIES!I'm so excited to be part of this new series about nurses. I have so many nurse friends, and in these troubled times with the virus going around, our nurses are doing all they can to help us. What would we do without them? I dedicate my story to all nurses who selflessly put their hearts into their work!<br />
<br />
Here is the list of authors involved with this series, and of course, the Amazon series link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0881KGBVV">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0881KGBVV</a><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
My book, "A Nurse for Mitch" is book #2 and comes out 6/18.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nurse Lydia Simmons is assigned to
a hospital in Laramie, Wyoming. She’s dedicated her life to caring for the sick
and wounded, but when she meets a soldier, known only as Mitch, she is
particularly drawn to him. Mitch has lost his memories and is desperate to
re-discover himself. Lydia strives to help him, and soon finds herself falling
for this lost soul, despite the fact that her heart belongs to another. A part
of her fears what will be discovered if she helps Mitch find his memories. What
secrets lurk in his darkened mind? Does he have a wife? A family? As glimpses
of his past begin to surface, Lydia begins to wonder if helping him uncover his
memories will be his downfall... or hers?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc41205623"><b>ONE</b></a></div>
<br />
<h1>
<o:p></o:p></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fort Laramie, Wyoming
1868<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
With both arms full of bandages and
creams, Lydia Simmons hurried to the operating room to stock the cabinets. The
room was long and filled with many tables. Several shelves and cabinets hung on
the wall, all loaded with supplies. This evening, only one lamp was lit since
most of the doctors had retired for the night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Putting these supplies away was the
last thing she had to do before going home, and she was anxious to complete her
duties. Although she loved being a nurse at Fort Laramie Hospital, and had been
for a few months now, tonight she and three other nurses were getting together
and would attend a ball given by the governor. Lydia couldn’t remember the last
time she had attended a ball. The Civil War ended when she was seventeen, and
nobody wanted to hold social functions like that anymore. So many men had been
killed or injured, and there weren’t many men to dance with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Regardless, she and her three
friends were using tonight’s ball as an excuse to dress up pretty and mingle
with healthy people for a few hours. It was difficult not to hurry and still
stack the supply cabinets neatly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Simmons?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Doctor Hatchett stood at the
doorway with his beefy arms folded over his very round middle. The older man
was stern, but he taught the nurses well and was a good example to the other
doctors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lydia paused. “Yes, Doctor
Hatchett. Do you need something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“When you’re finished here, I need
you to go upstairs to Captain Lewis’ room. He needs his bed changed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her heart sank. Captain Lewis had
been in and out of the hospital several times since the war ended, according to
the doctors she’d talked to. Captain Lewis was a sweet man, but his mind
wandered much too often, and most of the time she couldn’t get him to stop
talking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Tonight, she would need him asleep,
but she doubted that was going to happen. “Yes, Doctor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She finished with stocking the
cabinet and hurried out of the room and up the stairs to the third floor.
Hopefully, her friends wouldn’t go to the ball without her. She wanted to fix
her hair differently, and that would take a while, she was sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nearing the room where the captain
stayed, she adjusted the white apron with the red medical cross that pinned to
her dress’ bodice, and smoothed her hands over the bottom portion of the apron
as it covered her front down to her knees. She was finally used to wearing the
apron, but the hat seemed to never stay on her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Captain Lewis had shrunk in size
over the years, she was told. He’d once been a robust man who rode a horse
perfectly and led his battalion with courage. A cannon had nearly blown off his
leg. The army surgeon should have removed it, but for some reason, the captain
kept his leg. However, infection kept setting in, and every time it happened,
the man lost weight. Lydia feared the middle-aged man would be a skeleton soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A few other beds had patients, but
they looked to be sleeping. She walked past the captain to the shelves against
the far wall and pulled out some bed sheets. She peeked over at the man. His
thinning blonde hair lay limply on his head, matching the rest of the man’s
un-working parts on his body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Good evening, Captain Lewis.” She
brought the sheets over. “Doctor Hatchett said you were ready for your bed to
be changed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, I am.” He gave her a wide
smile. “You look absolutely radiant this evening.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A blush warmed her cheeks.
“Captain, I’m appalled. What would your wife say if she knew you were talking
that way to another woman?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He chuckled. “She would thank you
for not being twenty years older, that’s what she’d say.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“All right, Captain Lewis. Enough
flirtation. I’m here to change your bed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He scooted to the side of the bed.
She set the sheets down before sliding an arm around his waist, helping him to
stand and moving him to the closest chair. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Thank you, nurse. I appreciate
your help.” He cocked his head. “I cannot recall your name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m Lydia Simmons.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ah, yes. Miss Lydia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was still hard for most men –
and even women – to comprehend that she had a title. She’d gone to school and
was trained by Clara Barton, as was many other women like Lydia. They all
graduated with certificates in nursing. And yet, she still had to remind some
people to call her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nurse</i> Lydia. The
urge to correct the captain was strong, but she fought it. She didn’t want to
waste any time changing his sheets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Will you get me a newspaper, Miss
Lydia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She took a quick glance around the
room and spotted one on the other side of the eight-bed chambers. She hurried
over and snatched it up, quickening her step to bring it back to the captain.
“Is that all?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, for now. Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She was grateful that he would read
it while she changed the bed. At least she wouldn’t have to hear him talking
much. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After a few moments, he sighed
heavily in sadness. She glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t getting ill or
something. His expression was pulled into a deep frown as his gaze stayed on
the newspaper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Is something amiss, Captain?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The war has been over for three
years, but the newspaper still reports men who have deserted the army.” He
shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if these men are dead and their families
don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lydia nodded. “It would be so hard
on their families if they didn’t know.” She turned back to the bed-making.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He was silent for another second
before he gasped loudly. This time she thought he was in pain, but he still
stared at the newspaper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t believe it.” He grumbled
and shook his head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s wrong, Captain? Did you see
a name you recognize?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This man, Peter Mitchell, is
listed as a deserter. He was younger than most of us, but he had connections
and made it to Lieutenant very quickly. I worked under him and he put his men
through…” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but I won’t cuss around a lady.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She smiled. “I appreciate it.” She
turned back to the bed, tucking in the sheets under the mattress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This young man,” he continued, “was
a cocky fool and thought he knew everything. Sometimes, he thought he could run
the war by himself. He whipped us like animals and sometimes he starved us. He
told us that was his way of teaching us a lesson.” He paused, scrubbing a hand
over his unshaven face. “Before I was wounded, he was reassigned somewhere
else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How young was he?” she wondered,
caught up in the conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“At the time, he was probably in
his late twenties. He came from a family with money, which is probably how he
was able to work himself up in rank so quickly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I remember Lieutenant Mitchell.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
One of the other men in the room
sat up in his bed. “Most everyone hated him. He had a glare that made you want
to crawl under a rock and hide.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I remember he thought he was God.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Another man in the room stood from
his bed and leaned against the wall. Mr. Heath’s face was covered in sores, and
it reminded Lydia that she should give him some cream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“He thought he was God?” she asked
Mr. Heath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Mitchell’s father was a minster,
and sometimes Mitchell was heard quoting scriptures that talked about hell and
damnation. Some men in the regiment wanted to take their own lives just because
they couldn’t bear Mitchell’s torture.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, dear.” She held the pillow in
her hand, pressing it to her chest. “And the deserter is still missing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Captain Lewis shook his head. “I
pray he’s found and arrested… or he’s dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Do you think he’s in Wyoming?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Possibly.” The captain shrugged.
“Why else would they have his name in the newspaper?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It made Lydia nervous to think
there was a madman walking the streets who was that dangerous. “What does he
look like?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Heath chuckled. “He was a
woman’s man, that’s for sure. The young ladies thought he was quite handsome.
He knew how to charm, but that was not his real side. He just showed the ladies
what they wanted to see – a perfect and kind gentleman – but when he was away
from them, he turned into the devil himself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I heard he was married,” the
captain said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The poor woman.” Mr. Heath shook
his head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well,” she said, releasing a heavy
sigh as she turned back to finish making the bed, “I hope they find him soon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“He’d be easy enough to spot,”
Captain Lewis added. “The authorities would have to look for a man with sandy
brown hair.” He paused, tapping his finger on his pointy chin. “Oh, and Peter
Mitchell also has the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. The eyes of the devil…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A half-hour later, Lydia left the
hospital, clutching her cloak around her throat and rushing to her one-horse
buggy. It wasn’t the small wind that night that chilled her, but the tale of
the madman who was still on the loose. It was nights like this when she wished
she didn’t have to return home by herself. The sooner she could get home, the
safer she’d feel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Curse
you, Captain Lewis, for frightening me so.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It comforted her to know that her
uncle and guardian, Albert Wilkinson, would be waiting for her, just like he always
did on the nights she worked late. Albert’s wife, Beatrice, would be in bed.
She wasn’t one who liked to stay awake after the sun had gone to bed. But Bea
was like a mother to Lydia, since her mother had died during the war. Lydia
always knew it was heartbreak for losing her father in battle that killed her
mother. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
At times Lydia wanted to experience
that kind of love with a man – a love that was the reason you woke up every
morning and went to bed every night… a love that made you happy and made your
children happy. But then, Lydia never wanted to feel so heartbroken over the
man’s death that it literally killed her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She guided her horse around a bend.
Through this section of town, the trees were extremely dense and shadows were
everywhere. Her chest tightened with an eerie feeling, and she urged the horse
faster. Thankfully, the sun hadn’t quite disappeared, and she could still see the
road.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
By the time the end of the road was
in sight, she tried to calm her fiercely beating heart. But suddenly, a shadow
moved in front of her buggy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Panicking, she tried to stop the
horse, yet at the same time, tried to keep the buggy from running the person
over. Luckily, the horse missed the man, but she felt a heavy thump on the
right side of the buggy. Her heart sank. She’d hit them!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once she was able to stop the
horse, she jumped down and searched for the person lying on the road. It was a
man, and he lay motionless near the edge of the road, lying on his chest with
his head turned to the side. She prayed she hadn’t killed him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The blood oozing out of the side of
his mouth and a spot of blood coating his shoulder and spreading quickly, kicked
in her nurse’s senses and she hurried to his side, kneeling down next to him. His
ragged clothes looked to be at least two sizes too big. His shoulder-length
brown hair was dirty, and bits and pieces of twigs were stuck in his ratted
locks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sir?” She touched his hand as her
fingers searched for his pulse. There was one, but it was weak. “Sir? Can you
hear me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Gently, she turned him over as she
continued to check him for injuries. His face was covered with dirt and he
sported an unkempt beard that covered the lower half of his face and even hung
lower to cover his neck. Obviously, he hadn’t shaved for several months, maybe
even a year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sir? Can you hear me?” she
repeated, shaking him, but not enough to cause serious damage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He groaned, but he didn’t open his
eyes. This man needed a doctor, and yet, Uncle Albert’s house was closer than
the hospital. Not to mention, she was a nurse. She could help him until a
doctor arrived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She stood and moved toward his
head. He looked thin as if he hadn’t eaten for a while. Hopefully, she’d be
able to lift him to her buggy. She bent and slid her arms underneath his
shoulders. When her hand grazed the blood on the shirt, he moaned again.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, she wasn’t sure how she could move him by herself,
especially not knowing how serious his shoulder injury was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ma’am? Do you need help?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She released a frightened scream
and stumbled back, turning to look behind her at the man standing so very close
to her. When recognition hit, she sighed with relief. He worked on her uncle’s
farm. He continued to wear the tribal headband of the Sioux Indians. He also
seemed to be a good example to the others of his race who wanted to be part of
the great state of Wyoming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, Samuel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Lydia? Is that you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, Samuel. I need you to help me
carry this man to my buggy. He’s hurt and I need to get him home to Uncle
Albert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But the hospital,” he motioned in
the opposite direction, “is that way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I know, but this man is hurt. I
need to bandage him first, and then I’ll take him to the hospital.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But Miss Lydia, you cannot help
this man. He has been living in these woods. He is not fit to be at the farm
with you fine folks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It doesn’t matter. I’m a nurse,
and I will help anyone who needs medical attention. He’s bleeding, and I don’t
want him to lose too much blood or he will die. Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, Miss Lydia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Samuel was tall and built like an
ox. He lifted the stranger as if he was a sack of flour. He placed the man in
the buggy as she climbed up and took hold of the reins. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Lydia? Do you want me to ride
with you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Since there was no place on the
seat for Samuel to sit, he hopped on the back of the buggy and rode to the
house with her. As soon as she stopped, Samuel jumped down and lifted the man
in his arms again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She hurried into the house. Uncle
Albert walked out of the kitchen. When he saw Samuel and the unconscious man in
the worker’s arms, he gasped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t have time to explain,” she
told her uncle. “This man is injured and I need to get his bleeding stopped
before he dies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nodding, Albert rushed into the
guest bedroom and pulled down the blankets on the bed. Samuel laid the stranger
on the mattress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Uncle Albert? Will you help me
remove the man’s shirt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Between Samuel and her uncle, the
man was stripped from the waist up while she prepared the water, and the soap,
along with the bandages and ointment. Lydia turned up the lamp to get a better
look at his shoulder wound. Immediately, she went to work removing the blood
and the dirt. Once the spot was visible enough to see what kind of wound it
was, she gasped and straightened. Her heartbeat hammered in a different rhythm.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The man had been shot! Her mind
clouded with thoughts of what could have happened to him, but the one that
stood out most was that he was running from the law. Inwardly, she groaned. Had
she just brought an outlaw into her uncle’s house? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Buy link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nurse-Mitch-Nursing-Heart-Book-ebook/dp/B085D7KTDW">https://www.amazon.com/Nurse-Mitch-Nursing-Heart-Book-ebook/dp/B085D7KTDW</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-77011909453669165082020-06-01T19:18:00.001-06:002020-06-01T19:18:43.033-06:00Callie's Calamity - Mail-Order Bride SeriesI'm excited about my second mail-order bride romance! And I just adore the book cover!! The book is available in Kindle and Kindle Unlimited - and in paperback.<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">All Callie Cartwright knows is that she's got to get out of town fast. Her husband is dead and she's pregnant. If the truth comes out to how her husband died, she won't live to see the day her baby is born.</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Thankfully, she went through an agency to find a man in search of a mail-order-bride. Callie is a city girl, but perhaps living out in the country on a horse ranch is what she needs right now. One week later, she travels to meet the man she has arranged to wed but is sidetracked when the train she is riding breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Time is running out and she's desperate, but can she rely on the handsome stranger with the dreamy eyes to help her?</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
CHAPTER ONE<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Texas 1889</em><br /><br />It had been three days. Three very long and tiring days of running.<br />And hiding.<br /><br />Callie Cartwright clutched her satchel with one hand and secured the edges of her cloak at her neck with the other hand. Peeking around the wall of the train station office, she watched for anyone who resembled a lawman. Men with silver stars on their coats frightened her.<br /><br />The train heading to Colorado would be leaving in ten minutes. She would wait until the last minute before boarding. She couldn’t take any chances of getting caught, not only for her wellbeing, but for her unborn child’s.<br /><br />Callie pressed a hand to her belly. She had realized her delicate condition two weeks ago, so she hadn’t started showing yet. She prayed her slender figure would keep the pregnancy from showing for at least another four or five months. Her soon-to-be husband couldn’t know, yet.<br /><br />She glanced at her left hand. The ring Bill Donovan had given her on their wedding still circled her finger. Scowling, she tugged it off. The dirty rat hadn’t deserved the quick death he’d received. If it had been up to her, she would have put him through something more difficult and torturing.<br /><br />Unwanted memories flashed through her mind of him lifting his heavy hand in an attempt to make her bend to his will while she cowered in front of him. Closing her eyes, she prayed those terrible memories would disappear. She was starting a new life and finding a new husband… one that would care for her and her unborn child… the child she’d convince her new husband was his.<br /><br />The loud whistle of the train brought her out of her thoughts. Once more, she peeked around the corner of the station office and scanned the platform. Several people hugged their loved ones and said goodbye before they boarded the train and prepared to make the next few days journey as comfortable as they could be. Not Callie. She would only relax once she was out of Texas.<br /><br />Shifting from one foot to the other, she waited for the conductor to give the last boarding call. A woman with two children holding onto her hands hurried to the train and up the stairs. A man rushed from the other end of the station and climbed onboard. Not far from where Callie hid, a man walked out of the station office. His steps were slow as he headed for the train, and he held a newspaper in his hand. He stopped before lifting his foot to the small landing on the train, and looked down the wooden platform as if waiting for someone. He was dressed nicely in a gray suit jacket and matching trousers with a dark blue vest and white shirt. His brown hair was slicked back off his forehead, and from what she could see of his face, he was remarkably handsome. He appeared to be several years older than her husband, but she was certain the stranger wasn’t much older than thirty-five.<br /><br />Her first impression of him was that he wasn’t the type of man who would angrily strike a woman. But then, Bill hadn’t appeared to be that kind of man when she first met him, either. Alcohol had poisoned his mind and his heart.<br /><br />The stranger’s gaze did another sweep of the platform before he released a noticeable sigh and his shoulders sank. He proceeded up the landing and into the passenger car.<br /><br />The whistle blew again, and the conductor made the final call. Callie glanced around the nearly empty platform once more before hurrying toward the train. The conductor saw her and reached out a hand to help her on board.<br /><br />Callie’s heartbeat hadn’t calmed yet, but it probably wouldn’t. Not until she was out of danger and far away from Texas.<br /><br />As she wandered through the railcar, she searched for an empty seat. A few faces glanced up at her, but then the people returned to what they’d been doing. Callie searched for a seat near an older woman or even a woman with children. She didn’t want to stand out, just in case someone was looking for her.<br /><br />Callie clutched her satchel so tightly to her chest that her fingers turned white, but since this was the only thing she had left in this world, she didn’t want to lose anything. She only had a little money to live on until she reached Fort Collins, Colorado.<br /><br />When she saw an empty spot on the bench across from a woman with two children, Callie breathed a sigh of relief. She reached the bench and smiled at the slightly older woman looking up at her.<br /><br />“Is this place taken?”<br /><br />“No.” The woman motioned toward the empty space. “Please sit.”<br /><br />Callie smiled the best she could under her duress and sat. “My name is Mrs. Cartwright.” She decided not to give the woman her married name, only because <em>until death do you part</em>. “I’m widowed.” She didn’t want to lie about everything. Besides, an unwed woman traveling by herself was unheard of.<br /><br />The other woman nodded, wearing a pleasant expression. “I’m Mrs. Linda Butters. I’m also widowed.” She motioned to her two children who looked very much alike and the same age. “This is Matthew and Margaret.”<br /><br />“Twins?” Callie asked.<br /><br />The two children nodded.<br /><br />“Yes. They are eight-years-old,” Linda said.<br /><br />“Nice to meet you all.” Callie relaxed slightly. “Where are you traveling?”<br /><br />Linda adjusted the bonnet on her head, pushing back some locks that had fallen across her forehead. “Denver, Colorado. I have family there. And you?”<br /><br />“I’m heading to Fort Collins.”<br /><br />“That is a nice place. Have you been there before?”<br /><br />Callie shook her head. “My first trip. I’m also meeting up with family.” Of course, her <em>family </em>consisted of her soon-to-be-husband and his daughter.<br /><br />“I wish you a pleasant journey.”<br /><br />“Thank you, Mrs. Butters. And I wish you and your children a happy journey, as well.”<br /><br />“Please, call me Linda.”<br /><br />Callie’s smile didn’t seem as forced this time. “And you must call me Callie.”<br /><br />From up the aisle, the conductor made his way toward them, collecting the tickets. She dug through the homemade pocket she’d added to her cloak before she left home, looking for her ticket, but when the ticket wasn’t there, her heart dropped. Had she put it somewhere else? She quickly opened her satchel to see if it was on top, but it wasn’t.<br /><br />Her heartbeat quickened as panic filled her. They would kick her off the train without a ticket, and yet, she had purchased one, so where was it?<br /><br />She set the satchel down and stood, removing her cloak and shaking it. She then shook out her skirt, but still, the ticket didn’t magically appear.<br /><br />“Tickets, please.” The older man wearing the conductor’s uniform held out his hand.<br /><br />Linda handed over hers and the children’s tickets. The conductor ripped off the bottoms and gave the tickets back. When he turned to Callie, she looked at him as her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t have come this far only to be stopped. Why couldn’t her life go smoothly for once? When would it finally be her turn for happiness? But apparently, that was asking the impossible.<br /><br />“Your ticket?” the conductor asked.<br /><br />“I…” Her voice shook. “I had it before I got on the train, but now…” She shook out her cloak, hoping the ticket would appear quickly. Yet, she was prone to receiving bad luck. Why should today be any different?<br /><br />“Excuse me.” A man’s voice came from across the aisle. “I believe this is yours.”<br /><br />Callie snapped her gaze to the handsome man with the deep voice. He was the one she’d seen climb on the train a few minutes before she had. He stood behind the conductor, holding a ticket.<br /><br />“I saw this on the floor.” He motioned toward his feet. “I’m suspecting it’s yours.”<br /><br />Relief flooded her and she nearly sagged to the ground. With a shaky hand, she took the ticket from him, looking into his kind eyes. “Thank you, sir.”<br /><br />He nodded. “Glad to help a lady in distress.”<br /><br />She tried to regulate her breathing as she handed the ticket to the conductor. “I’m sorry about that.”<br /><br />He took her ticket and ripped off the bottom before handing it back. “I’m glad it was found, ma’am.”<br /><br />The conductor walked away, and she looked at the man who saved her… Inwardly, she cringed. No, she couldn’t think of him as doing <em>that</em>. He saved the moment. That’s all.<br /><br />“Thank you again, sir. I thought for sure the conductor would kick me off the train.”<br /><br />His bright smile only enhanced his handsome looks and made his blue eyes sparkle, his thick, dark brown hair appeared soft. He was a tall man, and had very broad shoulders, but was slender enough to fill out his clothes quite well.<br /><br />“I’m just glad I noticed it on the floor. I would have hated to start a fight with the older man. After all, throwing a woman off a train is very disrespectful, if you ask me.”<br /><br />She hitched a breath. Could this man be real? Or maybe he was a figment of her imagination. She hadn’t been sleeping well at all since her husband’s death, and especially since she’d been running. “How kind you are. I’m relieved to know there is a real gentleman on the train.”<br /><br />“I’m here to assist you in any way, ma’am.”<br /><br />Her heartbeat stalled, if only for a moment. What made him think she needed his assistance? She had once relied on Bill and look how that turned out. No, she wouldn’t fall so easily for a man again – even if he had a sweet smile as this stranger had.<br /><br />She muttered another thank you and stepped back to her seat. Once she was comfortable, she turned her head away from him to look out the window. For a moment, she’d forgotten how it had been when Bill had hurt her. He had smiled so sweetly at one time, too. She couldn’t trust smiles. They were fake, just as hers was.<br /><br />When she and Bill were first married, she was so in love, and had been optimistic about their future. Bill had worked in his father’s bank, and he’d been determined to make a life on his own for him and his bride. Not more than six months later, she realized he wasn’t the man she thought he was while courting her. He didn’t love her as much as he loved his whiskey. At that point, she wasn’t a wife to him, but instead, she felt more like his slave.<br /><br />The train’s rhythm seemed to slow slightly before the steam engine gained speed again. She tore her gaze away from the moving scenery and picked up her satchel. Just inside was the newspaper article she’d found not more than a week ago, advertising for a mail-order-bride.<br /><br /><em>Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency looking for unmarried women who would like to become mail-order-brides. Contact Milly Crenshaw.</em><br /><br />Five telegrams later, Callie was getting ready for her trip to Fort Collins, Colorado, to meet a rancher and his five-year-old daughter, Daisy. Callie was confident that she and her unborn baby would find a new life with Everett Lindon in Colorado. Now with her husband dead and a baby growing inside her, and with no money to help them, she didn’t care how she found a husband, as long as she found one who could support them. Love didn’t have to enter the marriage at all. Of course, she had lost hope in love, anyway. That emotion was only for dreamers.<br /><br />Tears stung her eyes, so she quickly turned her gaze back to the window. The rhythm of the train felt different than before, which was odd. She’d never been on a train before, and yet she could tell something wasn’t right.<br /><br />She shook her head and adjusted in her seat. Perhaps she was worried over nothing. If something was wrong with the steam engine, she’d let the engineer fret about it. She had other things to concentrate on.<br /><br />“Mrs. Cartwright…eh, I mean, Callie?”<br /><br />The woman she’d just met tapped Callie’s arm. She swung her gaze to her. “Yes?”<br /><br />Linda chuckled. “Forgive me for pulling you out of your thoughts.”<br /><br />Callie blinked quickly, trying to focus. “Please, don’t fret. I’ve just been overly tired lately.” She sat up straighter. “What do you need?”<br /><br />“I’m wondering if it’s all right with you if my brother-in-law joins us. He’s by himself and it’s a long ride. I figured he would like the company.”<br /><br />“Of course, I don’t mind at all.” Callie glanced at the empty seat by Linda. At least the seat wasn’t by Callie since one of the children occupied it.<br /><br />“Splendid.” Linda turned toward the man who had found Callie’s ticket, motioning her hand toward him. “Wayne? Please, come and sit with us.”<br /><br />The handsome man looked up from the newspaper he was reading, and his gaze met Linda’s before switching to Callie’s. Inwardly, she seethed. It would be very difficult sitting so close to a man whose dreamy eyes held her attention. But she must resist. She needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t the type of woman who swooned over a man with eyes that made butterflies dance in her stomach.<br />
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PURCHASE - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B085DCSCTC">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B085DCSCTC</a><br /><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-29183833308171282872020-04-20T10:27:00.001-06:002020-04-20T10:27:05.222-06:00Dear Lovelorn - NEW SERIES!I'm excited to tell you about a new multi-author series coming at the end of this month - Yours Truly: The Lovelorn!!<br />
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Each book in this series will be about the hero or heroine writing a letter to The Lovelorn - and her response... and then how each character will go about following the advice given.<br />
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The first book in the series is "Dear Lovelorn". Here's the first chapter:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
St. Louis, Missouri<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Summer, 1880<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Annette Baldwin hurried
from one desk to the next, collecting articles from the journalists who worked in
her father’s newspaper office. Each man glanced up at her, gave her a nod, and
returned to typing their next article. Six men worked for her father, and not
one of them noticed her swollen red eyes or the tears of rejection she couldn’t
stop from running down her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Taking a deep breath, she
tried to compose herself before taking the articles to her father. Even if the
others hadn’t noticed her solemn mood, her father would. Then again, since he
was busy getting the weekly edition of the St. Louis Gazette ready for
printing, perhaps he wouldn’t notice at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She wiped her eyes and
dried her moist cheeks as she mentally reminded herself that this was not the
end of the world. Discovering her beau didn’t love her – as much as he loved
her father’s money – wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last time.
Although she didn’t want to admit that she was a spinster, she was nearing her
twenty-sixth birthday, so perhaps she shouldn’t worry about trying to find a
husband. She’d do what her father had done to get over the loss of her mother.
Annette would find a career and put her heart and soul into it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Releasing a breath of
frustration, she entered her father’s office. Just as she’d expected, he was
busy arranging the articles on the front page of tomorrow’s issue before
sending it to the press.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Father, I’ve gathered
the articles for next week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Malcolm Baldwin mumbled
something and motioned his head toward the desk tray. She placed the papers in
the tray and stepped back, watching her father at work. The newspaper had
always fascinated her, especially seeing her father as he concentrated on
getting the columns just right and making sure all the articles fit perfectly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He was still a handsome
man, and the silver streaks in his light brown hair only made him look more
sophisticated. It was a shame he hadn’t remarried after her mother died ten
years ago. Then again, he’d been so dedicated to the newspaper – and to his
only child – that he probably didn’t have time to meet women.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
As she turned away from
the desk, her father’s assistant rushed in the room, knocking into her. She
stumbled, and he quickly grasped her arm to keep her from falling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“My apologies, Miss
Baldwin.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Peter Fletcher’s face was
the one she’d seen every day when coming to the newspaper, and one of the last
faces she looked at before retiring for bed. Peter spent just as much time at
her house as he did at the newspaper office. Six years ago, when he first
started working for the newspaper, she wanted to think of him as the brother
she never had, but yet he was dedicated to helping her father and didn’t have
time to be the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">big brother</i> she’d
always wanted. So, his position in her life was a friend… one that only talked
to her whenever he and her father were in a heated conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“There’s no need to
apologize.” She smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The man hurried to the
desk and placed his palms down on the layout her father had been piecing
together, stopping the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I just discovered,” Peter
said in a panic, “that Cooper’s article isn’t true.” He shook his head. “The
woman was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>accosted while taking
the train.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father’s forehead
creased and his gaze narrowed. “That cannot be. Cooper assured me he had
interviewed the woman.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Releasing a heavy sigh, Peter
pushed his fingers through his thick, black hair. “Cooper had assured me as
well, but I just came from the train station. I talked to Mr. Hemsworth
himself. No woman was attacked while on the train. Apparently, the attack
didn’t happen until she was almost home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father slammed his
fist down on the desk, and Annette jumped. Not often did she see her father
this upset. She slowly walked into the adjoining room where she had a desk. Her
job at the paper was minimal. She collected the articles so that her father
could put the paper together, and she went through the mail when it came in
since many readers enjoyed sending them suggestions on what type of issues to
write about. Occasionally, a letter arrived from an angry customer, but she
never took it personally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“That’s the last straw.”
Her father’s loud voice grumbled. “Cooper has written too many untrue articles
in the last month. I had warned him to lay off his whiskey, but apparently, he
didn’t take me seriously. It looks like I need to fire him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I couldn’t agree more,”
Peter said, “however, that still leaves us without an article for tomorrow’s
paper.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Growling with
frustration, her father paced the floor as he rubbed his forehead. After a few
moments, he stopped and looked directly at Peter. “What about the articles that
Annette has just gathered? Maybe one of them will work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Immediately, the two men
started searching through the pile on the tray. Annette sat behind her desk and
picked up the first letter, opening it as her mind started spinning with ideas.
Although she wouldn’t mind being a journalist, her second love was to write
stories. Her father had told her once how gifted she was, and yet… not once had
he offered to make her a journalist at the paper. Her father didn’t believe
women could handle such a task. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but
she didn’t dare for fear he’d shoot down her idea again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Augh! None of these will
fit in the small space we have left for the article.” Her father groaned and
moved to the window, pushing back the curtain and staring outside. “I’ll think
of something. We have until six o’clock tonight to get this done. If I have to
write something myself, I will.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Peter moved to her father
and stood beside him. “Let me know if you need any help. I can look back through
some of the things I’ve written—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“No, Peter. I don’t want
something that has been printed before. Our readers like the fact that we give
them new information to read. They enjoy reading about the events happening in
our great city or in the United States. I don’t want to break their confidence
and give them yesterday’s news.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Yes, I understand.”
Peter nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“But plan on working late
tonight. With this interruption in our schedule, it’s going to push back the
printing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I will.” Peter turned
and walked toward the door. He peered toward Annette. “Good day, Miss Baldwin.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Good day.” She raised
her hand in a small wave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Peter was another man she
couldn’t figure out. Of course, since she still wasn’t married, it was obvious
that understanding men wasn’t one of her God-given gifts. But she had wondered
why Peter had never married. Then again, he was married to the newspaper, just
as her father.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father stood by the
window, peering outside. The urge to ask him for permission to write an article
overwhelmed her, but once again, she pushed it aside, not wanting to feel that
kind of rejection two times in one day. Seeing the man who’d been courting her
for a month as he intimately held another woman was heartbreak enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She focused on the letter
in her hand. She skimmed the contents. It was from Mrs. Selmer. The older woman
complained about everything. Annette expected to read a letter from that old biddy
at least twice a month. In this letter, she focused on politics and how women
needed more to read about than government topics.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Annette opened the next
letter and read it. Apparently, Mrs. White and Mrs. Selmer shared the same
thoughts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
After reading ten more
letters – most of them written by women – Annette felt encouraged that this
time when she asked her father’s permission to become a journalist, it just
might work. Because now she had the fuel that would support her cause.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Breathing deeply, she slowly
built up the courage needed to confront her father. She prayed this would work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She moved away from her
desk and into the adjoining office. Her father had returned to the layout, but
his forehead was still marked with worry lines.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Father,” she began in a
tight voice, “I believe I have a solution to your problem.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He straightened and met
her stare. “You do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I do, but first let me
ask… how many women read the Gazette?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He shrugged. “We probably
have more men than women. Why do you ask?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Since you’ve put me in
charge of going through the mail, I’ve come to realize that I receive more
complaints from women than I do from men. The newspaper has more articles about
politics and laborious work in the job market.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He sat behind his desk
and folded his arms. “Get to the point.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“If you had more articles
in the newspaper that women would enjoy reading, then I’m sure we’ll get more
subscribers, especially if those women have husbands who are too busy working
to read, so they don’t have a newspaper.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He slowly nodded. “Go on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I think that you should
allow at least one article each week that will focus mainly on women’s issues
such as taking care of their families, running a household, and perhaps… love.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father’s big
brown-eyed gaze widened as a chuckle released from his throat. “Women? You
cannot be serious. Why would they read the newspaper?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Father,” she moved
closer to him, touching his arm, “most of the letters that are mailed to us are
from women. If the newspaper wants to sell more papers, I honestly believe the
way to do that is to bring in women readers. Don’t you realize how much women
like to gossip? Well, can you imagine that if one lady says something to her
friend or neighbor about the great article they’d read in the St. Louis
Gazette, then word will spread quickly and we’ll have more people buying the
paper.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father kept quiet for
a few very uncomfortable seconds as he tapped a finger on his chin. “How much
room would this article take on the page?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Not very much room at
all. In fact, I suspect it wouldn’t have to be more than three or four
paragraphs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Are you thinking a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman </i>should write this?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Well, I was hoping—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He shook his head. “I’m not
sure men would appreciate that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“The men won’t have to
know. We could give the writer a pseudonym so that nobody will know the gender.
Perhaps we’ll even get more male readers if the topic is right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her father’s tight-lips
made her nervous. She’d seen that expression before. He was pondering over the
suggestion, but she figured he’d reject it, just as he’d always done. She
continued to say a prayer in her mind that her father would be reasonable about
this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Father, we could try it
for two weeks, and if it doesn’t work, then no harm would be done.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I’m assuming,” he
finally said, “that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> want to write
this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She swallowed the lump in
her throat. “You know I can do it. You’ve read my stories.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“True, but writing
articles and silly stories are two different things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Clenching her jaw, she
wanted to snap at him for thinking that her stories were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">silly</i>. Didn’t he understand how committed she was to her writing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She clasped his hand,
pleading with her gaze. “Please, Father. Give me this chance to show you what I
can do.” She took an unsteady breath. “You probably haven’t noticed, but I’ve
passed the age of marriage.” Her voice cracked. “Since I won’t have a husband
and children, I need a career, and what better career could there be for me
than following in the footsteps of my hard-working father?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Releasing a heavy breath,
he patted her hand. “Two weeks. That’s all you get. And you must have an
article ready to go in tomorrow’s paper.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Excitement rose inside of
her and she gasped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“However,” he said
quickly, pointing his finger at her, “the article had better blow those female
readers away, yet at the same time, not offend the male readers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her heartbeat tripped and
her knees weakened. Could she do as her father had requested? Part of her mind told
her she couldn’t do it, but she chose to listen to the positive voices in her
head, instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Smiling wide, she nodded.
“I’ll get right on it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
PRE-ORDER Dear Lovelorn, only 99 cents! <br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dear-Lovelorn-Yours-Truly-Book-ebook/dp/B083VTL71K">https://www.amazon.com/Dear-Lovelorn-Yours-Truly-Book-ebook/dp/B083VTL71K</a><br />
<br />
Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-13238726951130059932019-12-15T11:25:00.002-07:002019-12-15T11:25:30.767-07:00COMING IN JANUARY!I'm excited to tell you about one of my January releases. "The Billionaire's Setup" is the second book I'm co-authoring with my sister, Stacey Haynes. This clean romance has a lot of humor, paranormal (ghosts) with a few spooky scenes, and a GREAT whodunnit mystery. My editor told me this has been her favorite story so far. <grins></grins><br />
<br />
If you've read "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07VZT8S6Y" target="_blank">The Magic of a Billionaire</a>", then you'll recognize my hero in this story.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">He’s looking for an honest woman and true love. The beautiful woman he meets has secrets. Can he trust her with his heart?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">She dreams of her ancestor’s past life who had been murdered. She can’t let anyone think she’s crazy or she’ll lose her reputation as a billionaire businesswoman</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It’s up to the ghost to set them up and make things right.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-37gKfsX9UrD2J6PohSop2YsAYHbBf77mc4q-b7_3tQjl-zy7HnOK5nbyjPotrwTH1MKPYU81C148JklmQgMRLJcn9wmE-okFVdxiuxQiufsSnNI2xqM3fHXDn0JKYk4ZBf7goKFtL2AU/s1600/Marienew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1036" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-37gKfsX9UrD2J6PohSop2YsAYHbBf77mc4q-b7_3tQjl-zy7HnOK5nbyjPotrwTH1MKPYU81C148JklmQgMRLJcn9wmE-okFVdxiuxQiufsSnNI2xqM3fHXDn0JKYk4ZBf7goKFtL2AU/s400/Marienew.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
In silence, they continued walking
and looking at the headstones in the cemetery. Nicole lifted the list of names up to the light. She
narrowed her gaze and her eyes shifted back and forth over the paper. Suddenly,
she gasped and straightened. Even in the shadows he could tell color was
seeping from her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What is it?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“Look,” she
said as she pointed to the name on the list. “It says Victoria Carrigan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Carrigan? Is she a relative?”
Nolan inquired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t know. I didn’t think we
had family here. It says she died in 1925.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Let’s look for her,” Nolan
suggested. “If we happen to find others, then we can check them off, but let’s
focus on Victoria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole nodded. She moved next to
him and hooked her arm around his. Nolan’s heart softened. They weren’t holding
hands, but this was the next best thing. It made him feel heroic thinking that
he would protect her from anything scary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Using the flashlight, Nolan scanned
each headstone as they quickened their pace to cover more of the area. As they
rounded a turn, Nicole tripped on a corner of a broken headstone. She stumbled,
and he quickly caught her before she landed on the ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, good grief,” Nicole muttered
and stood upright before placing her hand on his chest. “Thanks for stoppin’ my
fall. I’m sorry I’m such a klutz.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned. “It’s
nice to find a girl who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">falls</i> for
me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She laughed and teasingly slapped
his arm. “Oh, you are a funny one, aren’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, you laughed, so I must have
been funny.” He gently squeezed the hand still on his chest. “Are you going to
be okay?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Maybe I just need to walk slower.”
She started to move away, but he kept their hands together until their fingers
just gradually entwined together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“We can walk slower,” he said,
trying not to let the excitement rushing through his body come out of his
voice. “As long as you hold onto me, I won’t let you fall.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They were not directly in the
half-moon’s light, but he noticed a blush filling her cheeks. Elation filled
him, and he hoped she was feeling the same giddiness bouncing around inside of
her as he was experiencing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
There was something about this man
that just made her want to smile constantly and her heart race. She enjoyed the
way he watched her with such emotion in his glorious green eyes, but it was
more than that. She liked the way he talked, the way he smiled, and the way he
teased. She loved hearing the sound of his laugh when they laughed at the same
thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she held his hand, she felt like
the luckiest woman in the world. It also amazed her that for once in her life
she wasn’t trying to act like the billionaire her uncle wanted her to act like.
She wanted to be a normal person, and right now, this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal </i>person wanted to walk through the cemetery and hold this
gorgeous man’s hand as if they were the only two people here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Warmth filled Nicole’s face. She
was relieved that night’s shadows kept him from seeing her face completely or
else he would know she’d been blushing ever since their hands clasped. The
rhythm of her heart increased, and she wanted to cuddle against him.
Thankfully, that wouldn’t be possible right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan was a tall man with strong
arms, and just holding his hand made her feel so protected. She raised her gaze
to his face. When he looked at her, she smiled. She wanted to hold onto him as
he’d suggested, and never let go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you ready to find Victoria
now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand a
little more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She found it strange that he hid his
secret just as she was doing. He didn’t want people to know he was extremely
wealthy, and it made her feel closer to him since they shared the same secret –
even if he didn’t know that about her. But she was more convinced now that he
was Aaron Powers… or the cousin, Thomas Powers. It really didn’t matter that he
was as rich as she was – what made the difference in how she looked at him was
that he was such a sweet man who thought of her feelings. It was so nice to be
with a man who didn’t think the world revolved around him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They wandered deeper into the
cemetery, looking at the headstones as they tried to find their list of names,
along with Victoria’s of course. It unnerved Nicole to think that she might be
related to Victoria in some way, and yet Nicole was excited to get to know her
ancestor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He stepped over a fallen headstone
and quickly came to halt. He glanced at the empty space beside him and frowned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Wright. I didn’t
see you floating there. Please forgive me for stepping on your ghostly foot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A chuckle escaped Nicole’s throat.
Although he was being silly about it, she wondered if he really had seen a
ghost, because she didn’t see anything. “Nolan, you might want to ask him to
let you know if I get in his way.” Her grin stretched. “I wouldn’t want to
cause him any more harm.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He turned to peer into the shadows
again. “Did you hear my friend?” He paused a few seconds and nodded. “Yes, I’ll
tell her. Thank you again, Mr. Wright.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan’s attention swung to Nicole.
His mischief smile let her know that he was joking. She was relieved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Mr. Wright wants me to tell you,”
he stepped around in front of Nicole, taking both of her hands in his, “that he
thanks you for your kindness. He also thinks you are a very beautiful woman,
which of course, I agree with him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Laughing aloud, she stepped closer
to him. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her loosely. The closeness
raised her blood pressure a notch or two. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Within seconds, their laughing
subsided as she gazed into his eyes… the best she could, anyway. The urge to
kiss him was strong. Dare she be the one to initiate the first move?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He licked his lips and her heart strummed
faster. Perhaps she should wait and let him make the first move. He started to
lower his face toward hers and she closed her eyes, waiting for the moment
their lips would touch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, someone from behind
pushed her, and she fell against him. Gasping, she swung around to see who had
shoved her, but no one was there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked in a
voice deeper than she’d been hearing today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I thought… I mean it felt like…
someone pushed me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He glanced around them. “No,
sweetie. We are the only two right here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She laughed uncomfortably.
Irritation grew in her chest. Someone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had
</i>pushed her, but that’s not what upset her the most. How dare someone ruin
their special moment!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
PRE-ORDER link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Y9DMRHY">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Y9DMRHY</a></div>
<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-26841817368047896922019-10-09T15:18:00.000-06:002019-10-14T09:21:11.677-06:00Contest Entry Chapter - Her Knight in CamelotI was invited to submit a story for potential movie adaptation by Wattpad Studios, and I'm one of the 10 finalists.<br />
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Over two years ago when I was going wild with writing twisted fairy-tale romances, I had my cover artist put together this cover. Unfortunately, I only had two chapters written before I was pulled to another project. But this cover is PERFECT! Thanks, Sheri McGathy!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
This is my submission. I hope you like it!!<br />
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<br />
A modern-day man's world is disrupted when a woman claiming to be from the medieval era travels through time to take him back to Camelot. It's too bad he doesn't believe.<br />
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Camelot is in trouble. The king is dead and the rightful heir was magically transported into the future years ago. Now, the granddaughter of the great sorcerer, Merlin, must travel forward in time to retrieve the true king. The problem... she knows very little magic and isn't prepared for the modern world. Worse, King Arthur has no idea where he came from, and she's misplaced her only means to return them to Camelot.<br />
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">PROLOGUE<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Queen Arrosa clutched her
five-year-old son against her bosom as her gaze darted around the room. With
armloads of clothes, servants rushed from the armories to the several opened
trunks where they hastily deposited the garments. Written on each person’s face
was an expression of pure white terror. Out in the corridor, the cries of other
servants echoed the halls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Another cannon blast shook the
castle walls. Shielding her son, Queen Arrosa turned them away from the falling
rubble. Screams out in the corridor as well as inside the chamber, heightened
in volume. Although she wanted to scream, she didn’t want to frighten her son
any more than he already was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Tears stung her eyes as the frantic
rhythm in her heart accelerated. For several years now, those residing in the
castle were forewarned about an attack. Men in the kingdom angry about being
sent off to fight other kingdoms. Their funds were now exhausted from the high
taxes. They blamed the king of taking all the money for himself and his family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Arrosa’s stomach clenched. The
people were correct. King Marten had been greedy during his six-year reign. He
thought of only his power. Not even his wife and son were as important as the
king’s lands and treasures. Because of that, the people were rebelling. Arrosa
and her son were in danger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The booming of another cannon blast
nearly deafened her. This one was too close. Her son, Arthur, whimpered and
buried his face deeper against her. She couldn’t allow this to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Keep packing,” she instructed the
servants before taking her son’s hand and leading him out of her bedchamber.
There was only one thing that could be done – only one person who could help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Merlin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">They hurried down the grand stairs
to the lower level. Another blast hit somewhere in the castle. This time, a
piece of the ceiling fell and shattered to the ground very close by them.
Determination pushed her to get Arthur and herself to safety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">She dodged the servants hastening
through the halls. She headed in only one direction. When she arrived at the
side doors, she opened the hard wood and peeked outside. Smoke filled the air
from the cannons. Terror-filled voices rose all around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Where was her so-called brave
husband… the king? She assumed he’d be with one of his many mistresses. But obviously,
they wouldn’t be in the castle. Not today. Especially not if he could get hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Arrosa picked up her son and
carried him through the haze of smoke that nearly burned her nose and stung her
eyes. She pressed Arthur’s head into her chest, hoping he wouldn’t breathe this
vile scent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">She ran until the air cleared and
the booming echoes were farther away. Merlin’s cabin stood nearby. Her husband
made certain the wizard was close at hand in case he needed protection. Would
the kingdom’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fearless</i> leader be with
Merlin right now? She highly doubted it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Reaching his door, she then knocked
hard and fast. “Merlin,” she cried out. “I need your help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Immediately, the door was opened,
and the thin, middle-aged man with long, white hair and beard, motioned her inside.
She stepped inside the small cottage and her gaze swept the walls filled with
shelves that had different sized bottles on them. Two chairs stood by a table
with a plate of bread, meats, and cheeses on top. A little girl, perhaps around
the same age as Arthur, sat in one of the chairs, nibbling on a piece of
cheese. Her wide, frightened gaze stayed on the queen for a few seconds before
moving to Arthur. The girl’s hair was a pretty brownish-red, separated down the
middle and woven together in pigtails.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The queen nodded to the little
girl. “Good day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Your Majesty,” Merlin said,
closing the door and securing it tightly with a rope. “This is my
granddaughter, Felicity.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Arrosa’s heart ached for the little
girl, and all the children in Camelot. Would any of these children be alive on
the morrow?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Merlin,” Arrosa said, urgently,
“my child and I need protection. Living in the castle, I fear for our lives.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">He nodded and scratched his scruffy
chin. “And rightly so. The uprising of the king’s enemies has been foretold to
me. We cannot stop it now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“But what about his son? Did you
not promise me that one day Arthur would inherit Camelot when he was a man? How
can that happen if my son is dead?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“No, Prince Arthur will live.”
Merlin shuffled his feet toward a large pot hanging over the fire pit. “I shall
send you and the prince to a place that will keep you safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Tears built in her eyes as relief
poured over her. “Yes. That is where we need to be. Safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“However…” He paused, lifting a
spoonful from the pot. Steam swirled around the grayish-yellow concoction. “You
must not let anyone know he is Prince Arthur. The only way he will survive is
to have his memory erased of this horrid place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Arrosa sucked in a quick breath as
her gaze jumped back and forth between the spoon and Merlin. “His memory will
be gone?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Aye, but only as a cloud will
cover it, making it unable for him to remember about his life in Camelot. If he
has any recollection of his life here, it will be in dream-form.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Then how will he know to return to
take over as king?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Not to worry, My Queen. I shall
come for you when the time is right. I will give him another elixir that will
make him remember.” He hesitated as he watched the swirling steam of liquid.
“Are you ready?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Now?” Her voice rose. “But I do
not have our clothes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">He reached to the nearest shelf and
took down a hefty leather bag. Coins clinked together inside as he handed it to
her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“This will help you in the new land,
I assure you. You will want for nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">A tear slid down her cheek as she
nodded. “Then we are ready, Merlin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“May God be with you,” he said
before blowing the liquid toward them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Arrosa squeezed her eyes closed and
held her breath. Wherever they were going, she prayed she would be strong
enough to raise her son on her own. She couldn’t fail Merlin. Arthur <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>become king one day, and it was her
responsibility to see it through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">ONE<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Present Day<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Shifting his position on the steed,
Arthur Gavin Beaumont clamped his right hand over the steel sword hooked to his
belt and leaned forward. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, sliding
down his cheek. The medieval knight costume he wore nearly suffocated him, and
once he was in full action, it would become even hotter. He waited for the
signal so he could ride out in the center of the ring to battle against Lance,
the Blue Knight. Gavin’s title was the Red Knight—the Lion’s Heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Strange that he’d assume that
particular title. In his childhood, his delusional mother used to refer to him
as Prince of Camelot. She would always pretend she was the queen and he was the
prince. He never knew her to be serious, and yet, every game she played with
him, every sport she urged him to take had something to do with the medieval
era.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chuckling, he scanned the many
people who’d come to this afternoon’s event at the Medieval Restaurant.
Wouldn’t his mother be proud of him now? He loved his job, and his skill
exceeded the requirements for the games performed at the restaurant. The crowd
was privileged to see their favorite knights battle against each other, either
in jousting, weaponry, or horsemanship. One segment of the evening was showing
off the eagle which Gavin had personally trained. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">All of the attention he received,
especially from the pretty ladies, gave him an over-sized ego. But he didn’t
mind. At least he knew he excelled at something since he wasn’t doing very well
in college. Sadly enough, he doubted he’d ever become the lawyer he’d set out
to be when he entered college five years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The music changed to a marching
beat. That was his cue to ride into the arena. He urged his horse into a trot
and entered the dirt-filled stadium. The crowd in the stands cheered, and he
breathed in the great attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The Blue Knight rode atop his
horse, slowly coming toward Gavin. He couldn’t see the other knight’s face, but
immediately Gavin suspected something was vastly different. The armor didn’t
fit Lance as it had before. Even the way the knight rode his horse was odd.
Either that, or Lance had finally figured out how to ride without bouncing all
over the animal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Both Gavin and Lance maneuvered
their steeds in fancy steps as they circled each other. After a few minutes of
doing this, they dismounted and withdrew their swords. Cheers in the crowd
increased. Some guests even chanted his name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The clang of the swords meeting
each other echoed through the arena. Gavin shifted in the fancy footwork he’d
been taught, and the Blue Knight followed his lead. Another thing different
about Lance was that his blows were stronger this time. The men who played the
knights were just acting and so they didn’t need to overpower the other unless
it was planned in the script. However, tonight Lance was stronger. Faster. More
determined.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">This knight couldn’t be Lance. The
man behind the armor seemed shorter and thinner, especially by the way the
armor practically hung on the man’s frame. Had they replaced Lance with someone
new at the last minute? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">More sweat ran down his face as the
heat grew inside his helmet. He diligently used his sword to block his
opponent, but after exchanging blows for ten whole minutes, his muscles began
to ache. Irritation swept over him, so he pushed his opponent harder. Gavin
couldn’t lose. He worked out every day for an hour, sometimes more, so why were
his muscles screaming for rest now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Grumbling, he yanked off his helmet
and tossed it to the ground in order to get more air to his face. The volume of
the crowd lifted. His opponent didn’t remove his helmet. Instead, the Blue
Knight paused in his fighting and stared at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Gavin arched an eyebrow. What was
wrong with the man? Perhaps this was the moment Gavin needed to take control.
He raised his sword to finish the game, but in a quick instant, the other man
ducked and swept his sword lower, knocking Gavin to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">He swore under his breath. That
wasn’t the way this program had been planned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Gavin jumped to his feet – even
with the cumbersome armor limiting his movements – and raised his sword again,
but his opponent counter-attacked. Unfortunately, this new person was skilled,
almost as good as Gavin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Anger guided Gavin’s movements. He
didn’t care that his muscles were weakening, he continued to meet his
opponent’s sword. Completely focused, all he heard was his own heavy breaths
and the loud clang of the swords when they blocked the other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">In one quick swipe, his challenger
knocked Gavin to the ground again. Out of breath, he lay still and looked up at
the roof of the arena. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What is going on?</i>
The Blue Knight was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>supposed to
win.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">He shifted his gaze toward his
rival just as the man started to remove his helmet. Once the object was off,
long, auburn hair fanned out around the person’s shoulders, and showed everyone
a very delicate and pretty face. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A woman?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-80637758681181475722019-07-18T11:17:00.000-06:002019-10-04T19:46:54.460-06:00Sneak Peek - The Magic of a BillionaireLet me tempt you a little more. This is REALLY a great book, and the reviews that are pouring in are all saying the same thing - they could not put this book down! This is a full-length story that's worth every penny!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFo4P5wNJ7auyWgsYAlw2tu_sn-eZoJaZNzCmIWrTZRch5OMeS2QwHWp2YGlTwjr7an0ccttejBSySZpjWsC2EfDm92gVL-M370UfSXbxQYRLBftcFReGjXr14QnMqyxkpkujnWqgBjaz/s1600/48d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFo4P5wNJ7auyWgsYAlw2tu_sn-eZoJaZNzCmIWrTZRch5OMeS2QwHWp2YGlTwjr7an0ccttejBSySZpjWsC2EfDm92gVL-M370UfSXbxQYRLBftcFReGjXr14QnMqyxkpkujnWqgBjaz/s400/48d.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A tragic accident – or cleverly disguised murder? Only one woman will
be brave enough to find out.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
Paralegal, Elizabeth
Martin, has two reasons for staying at a mysterious mansion – to help get the
property ready to sell, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> to investigate
the rumors of the ghost who is haunting it. After shockingly finding the rumors
to be true, one question stirs in her mind. Had the renowned magician’s death really
been a careless accident – or was it a cleverly disguised murder?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
The deceased heir to the
Powers’ billions, Aaron Powers, is only after one thing. Revenge. He couldn’t
use his magician’s skills and illusions to keep his murder at bay, so now he
must depend on the strikingly beautiful paralegal’s help. Unfortunately, he
can’t stop himself from becoming attached to her – both heart and soul. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
Solving a murder is no
magician’s trick, but can Elizabeth and Aaron see through the smoke and mirrors
to bring the criminal to justice? And can they do it without their growing
feelings for each other getting in the way?<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">PROLOGUE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Aaron Powers stood on the
Rockwell Theatre stage, as a sold-out room of spectators sat and watched him as
he prepared his next act. Sweat formed on his forehead and behind his neck.
Even his palms were moist. The frantic rhythm of his heartbeat only made things
worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He silently cursed the
doubts scrambling his mind, confusing him. It had been five years since Aaron
experienced the jitters during one of his acts. But no longer was he an
apprentice when dealing with magic. In fact, last month, Forbes magazine had
interviewed him and given him the title of a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rising Star</i>. Of course, it didn’t hurt that his billionaire
grandfather owned three wineries, which helped give him a leg up. The magazine
had written that Aaron’s sold-out shows and fame would make him wealthier than
his grandfather one day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Taking a steady breath,
Aaron prayed that day would come. But with all the accidents that had been
happening to him lately, he worried he’d never get to see that day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The loud music with the
intense beat boomed throughout the theatre, heightening the moment when Aaron
would climb in the box for his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">swords-through-the-box
</i>illusion. This trick had never failed before, and because he’d checked all
the props for tonight’s show two hours ago, he was sure everything would go
smoothly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And yet… there was still
that niggle of doubt in his mind that caused his nerves to jump and his hands
to tremble.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His beautiful assistant,
the very lovely blonde bombshell, ZoAnn – a woman he’d dated for a while until
realizing they’d be better as friends – sashayed in front of the coffin-shaped
box, opening the cubby doors to show the audience that there was no way for him
to escape, and no extra room once Aaron was inside. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He grinned to himself.
What the audience didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Once he was inside, there
would be plenty of room for him and the swords.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once she connected the
doors around the box, she stepped in rhythm to the pounding music, slinking her
way around stage. When she reached him, she pressed herself up against him and
slowly moved around his body, sliding her hands over his chest, his shoulders,
back, and finally around to his front again. He grasped her roughly, pulling
her closer as if he was going to kiss her, but just as their mouths were a
breath apart, he moved her aside and stepped inside the box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Continuing to stand in
the box, he moved his arms as he motioned from one side to the other of his
short-lived tomb. He had arranged to have the fan on high at this section in
the act, which blew his wavy hair, but especially, the wind lifted his white
silky shirt away from his throat, giving the ladies in his audience a glimpse
of his muscular chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
ZoAnn raised one of the
swords, blade-side up, showing the audience. Aaron withdrew the silk scarf from
around his throat and tossed it toward the sword. As soon as the cloth touched
the blade, the scarf immediately split in two, showing the audience how
incredibly sharp it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Finally, he slid down
into the box horizontally as ZoAnn finished locking up the doors. The slight
tremble was still in his hands as he reached for the lever that widened the
side of the box that the audience couldn’t see. He barely heard the clicking
noise of the gears over the booming music in the theatre.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The wood beneath him
shifted ever-so-slightly… and then stopped. His heart stilled momentarily. His
throat tightened, as did his chest. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This
wasn’t enough room!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He moved the switch
again, but the box extension beneath him didn’t widen any further. Gently, he
pushed with his legs and hips, trying to get the extension to widen, but it
wouldn’t budge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Panic filled him. The
frantic beat of his heart pounded through his ears, blocking out any other sounds.
He must make ZoAnn aware of the faulty box extension, and yet – how could they
stop the show? His act would be ruined. So would his name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
However, sharp swords
slicing through the box would definitely kill him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“ZoAnn, stop the act,” he
shouted, but the music was too loud. Using his fist, he hit the side of the
box, but that didn’t accomplish anything. The music was just too loud.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, a sword pushed
through the flimsy box. Pain shot through his arm. Clenching his teeth, he
cussed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Taking in deep breaths,
he tried controlling the fear rising inside him. “ZoAnn,” he shouted again, but
seconds later, the second sword slid through the box. Pain exploded in his leg.
Warm, sticky blood oozed down the side of his leg.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Stop the act!” This time
when he screamed, he tried rocking the box. He prayed like he never prayed
before. Someone just had to hear him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, another blade
entered the box, cutting into his stomach. He couldn’t tell which was worse –
the fiery pain that made him want to vomit or the numbness slowly spreading
over his body. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“ZoAnn…” he cried out
again as tears rolled into his ears. His body told him it was too late, anyway.
Slowly, his body weakened as blood continued to gush out of him. An artery had been
severed, he just knew it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Closing his eyes, he
pictured his grandfather’s kind and loving face – the face Aaron had grown to
love as a father-figure since his own parents died when Aaron was
six-years-old. Out of everyone he knew, his grandfather would mourn Aaron’s
death the hardest. They’d been so close over the years…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Aaron’s mind filled with
childhood memories that quickly meshed into adult memories. He’d had a good
life. He’d made some good friends… but apparently, he’d made enemies, too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As he lay dying, he said
one last prayer – that he would not cross over. Being a ghost and haunting
those responsible for his soon-to-be death was what he wanted now. That was the
best kind of revenge. <o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">ONE</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth Martin’s
fingers flew over the keyboard as she finished typing the research notes she’d
done on an embezzlement case. Out of all the research she’d completed the past
three years working for Taylor, Baker, and Swift, Attorneys at Law, this
particular embezzlement case had been the easiest. The bank employee hadn’t
covered his tracks while stealing money from his company, and the fool bragged
about it to his friends. This was an open and shut case. Easy-peasy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once finished, she saved
it to a folder and closed the program. She pushed away from her desk just far
enough to rest her hands in her lap and sigh with relief, smiling. She loved
her job, however… a job like this gave her the advantage of getting inspiration
for her next story. Not many of her co-workers knew about her love for writing
romantic suspense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lately, her muse had been
a little dry – so much, in fact, that she started spending more time with her
boyfriend, Sam Livingston. The smile quickly left her face. Now she knew why
writing came first. At least in her novels she could get away from life’s
stress. In her stories, the hero adored the heroine, and everyone had a
happy-ever-after. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She grabbed her bottled
water from her desk and drank the remaining liquid. It had grown warm since she
had bought it, and she decided she needed something cold to hydrate her.
Otherwise, she was in danger of dozing off at work. She looked in her drawer
for some loose change, and then headed to the breakroom. After retrieving a
fresh, cold bottled water from the office’s new vending machine, she leaned against
the counter and sipped the refreshing liquid. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Just then, two of her
co-workers walked inside the breakroom. She nodded to them but kept drinking.
They were in the middle of a conversation, anyway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It was like watching a
scary movie, I tell ya.” Susan shook her head, her eyes growing wider by the
second. “It wasn’t until the assistant pulled out the bloody swords that she
realized something had gone wrong with the act.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Tonya opened the
refrigerator and pulled out a baggy of carrots and celery sticks. “I’d heard
rumors that someone was purposely trying to kill him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Susan shrugged. “I’m
assuming it was investigated, but his death was reported as an accident.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth lowered the
water, suddenly caught up in her friends’ conversation. “Who died?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Susan spun around, her
long, auburn hair flying over her shoulder. “It was about three months ago, but
it was all over the news. Didn’t you hear? It was Aaron Powers, that famous
magician.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nodding thoughtfully,
Elizabeth tapped her finger on the bottle. “I think I’ve heard his name
before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“His shows were all over
– in California, Nevada, and even Arizona.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth stepped closer.
“And he died?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yep. One of his acts
went wrong, and his assistant stabbed him to death with swords.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth’s stomach churned.
“While on stage?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, yes.” Susan nodded
vigorously. “I was in the audience. It was surreal. I still can’t believe I
watched it happen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How sad.” Elizabeth took
another sip of her water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You should look it up on
the internet. Like I said, it was all over the news.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I think I will.”
Elizabeth turned and took slow steps toward the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, who inherits his
grandfather’s billions?” Tonya asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth came to a
sudden halt and glanced back at the other two ladies. “The man was rich, too?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, you see…” Susan
walked toward Elizabeth. “His grandfather, Jethro Powers, owns three wineries. Aaron
was his oldest grandson. Powers’ billions would have gone to Aaron, but now…”
She shrugged. “I guess everything will go to the surviving grandson when the
old man kicks the bucket.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That definitely makes an
interesting tale.” Although it was sad what happened to Aaron Powers’ life,
Elizabeth’s mind spun with story ideas. It had been a while since she’d been
energized like this about a story. She’d have to do more research and see what
she could find. Within all of those details was a suspenseful romance story
waiting to be written, and she was anxious to find it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She returned to her desk
without even thinking about it as her mind whirled with ideas. As soon as she
found herself in front of her computer, she reached for the keyboard and
quickly searched the internet for the magician’s name. She clicked on the first
link that popped up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aaron Zeke Powers of Surprise, Arizona, died March 10<sup>th</sup>,
while performing on stage at the Rockwell Theatre in front of a large crowd. He
was performing the famous, yet dangerous, swords-through-the-box illusion. The
props used were not working correctly and he was stabbed multiple times. He
bled to death on the way to the hospital. He was the oldest grandson of the renowned
winery owner, Jethro Powers. Well known in the winery communities, Jethro
Powers had accumulated a large fortune that was to pass to Aaron upon Jethro’s
death, including the wineries. With Aaron’s passing, Thomas Powers, the next
grandson in line, is now poised to inherit the fortune. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth continued
through the article and studied the pictures taken of the handsome magician.
Aaron appeared to be in his early thirties and looked very confident. He had a
charming smile that made his blue eyes sparkle. She couldn’t tell if it was his
costume that made him appear so robust, or if it was just his nature, but
either way, he was one finely built man. She found it sad that something so
terrible could happen to someone as good-looking as him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She kept searching the
internet and came across some videos of his performances. As Elizabeth watched,
she caught her breath quite a few times. The way he looked deeply into his
assistant’s eyes made Elizabeth wonder if Aaron had been in love with the
blonde woman with the Barbie-doll figure. While his magic tricks kept her mind
buzzing with wonder, his hypnotic smile kept her eyes glued to the screen. His
electrifying blue eyes, framed by his dark hair, captivated her imagination,
and one question stuck out in her mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Had his death really been
an accident? Or, could it have been murder?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She clicked another link
that displayed a magnificent mansion in Surprise, Arizona. As she read the
article, she discovered that this had been Aaron’s home before he died.
According to the article, the man had been alone for most of his life. His
parents had died in a tragic car crash when he was only six. Aaron had never
married and had no children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Another paragraph
mentioned that visitors to the mansion since Aaron’s death had thought they’d
seen Aaron’s ghost. They’d heard doors shutting on floors where nobody entered,
and whispers in the ventilation system. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ah, perfect! You’re
doing your research already.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth jumped from her
boss’ deep voice. She swung around in her chair and faced him. Heat burst in
her cheeks for being caught playing on the internet. “Todd, I didn’t hear you
come in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chuckling, he pointed to
the computer. “The horrific story of Aaron Powers’ death would enthrall anyone.
I don’t blame you for being so caught up in that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, why do you think I’m
doing research?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Carey hasn’t told you
yet?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Told me what?” By her
suddenly racing heart, she already had a feeling she knew, but she didn’t want
to get too excited until she knew for sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His grin widened and he
waggled his eyebrows. She always thought her forty-five-year-old boss was a
handsome man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The elder Mr. Powers,
Jethro, has hired us to help him get the mansion ready to sell. As part of the
process, we are to check into these ghost rumors and see why people are saying
the property is haunted.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she pondered his
request, she couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up from her throat. “Are you
serious? We’re lawyers, we’re not detectives.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“While that is true,
Jethro is a longtime friend of the head of this firm. Jethro is also a
billionaire, which means he has the power to get whatever he wants. In this
case, he’s asked for us to oversee the mansion’s legals.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She shrugged. “Okay, so
how are we supposed to see if the place is haunted?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Todd rested his hand on
the desk as he leaned toward her. His expression changed to one of mischief. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I hope you’re not afraid
of ghosts…” his leery grin widened, “because you’re the one we’re sending to
the mansion.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Part of her wanted to
shout with glee. Staying at a rich guy’s mansion was just what she needed to
give her newfound story idea more fuel. And yet, the other part of her was
intrigued with the mystery of getting to know more about the famous magician
who had died so tragically. Plus… she had never seen a ghost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chuckling, she shook her
head. She didn’t believe in ghosts, anyway, but she had to admit that spending
a week or two there did sound like fun. “How soon do I need to pack?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surprise, Arizona. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth chuckled to
herself. She’d never known the place existed. However, being a native to Los
Angeles, she had always found enough to keep her busy in California that she
had never wandered to other states.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’re not in California anymore. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The five-and-a-half-hour
drive through seemingly endless desert was enough to make anyone sick, and even
the lizards she passed looked dehydrated. But Surprise, Arizona, was quite a –
dare she say – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">surprise</i>? Several palm
trees lined the streets, shading the fronts of the city’s adobe-style homes.
The further she ventured, the more she realized that this was a golfing
community. In just the few minutes she’d been there, she’d already counted more
than fifteen golf carts on the road. Her GPS continued to lead her through the
heart of the city and to the other side, into the richer neighborhoods. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thankfully, the town was
small enough that it didn’t take her very long before she reached the road
leading her toward the Powers’ mansion. The property was surrounded by large,
full trees she didn’t recognize, as well as an ornate rock wall. As she began her
journey up the very long driveway, the iron gate was opened automatically and
allowed her to drive straight up to the mansion’s front porch. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Four massive white stone
columns jutted out of the sunflower-colored brick, framing three stories of
glistening windows. Never had she seen a mansion close up, but this one seemed
to have an older style of architecture. It was very nineteenth century, but
something seemed different about it. Elizabeth put the thought from her mind.
She was more excited to go inside and get a view of how a billionaire lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she pulled around the top of the driveway,
she was surprised to see a red Ferrari parked in front of the house. Elizabeth
turned off her car and opened the door to step out. A man in the Ferrari also
climbed out at the same time. He was definitely not the man she thought she’d
be meeting today. Instead of an eighty-something-year-old, the man appeared to be
not much older than she was. He wore a beige tee-shirt stretched across his
wide shoulders and chest, and crisp blue jeans on his lean legs, with white
athletic sneakers on his feet. His hair was dark brown, and his face resembled
the pictures on the internet that she’d seen of Aaron Powers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He smiled, stopping in
front of her. “You must be Elizabeth Martin.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She nodded and stretched
forth her hand to shake his. “I am. And you are definitely not Jethro Powers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He chuckled. “No, Jethro
is my grandfather. I’m Thomas Powers. My father was Jethro’s second son.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She had read a little
about Thomas from the article on the internet. She also recalled that her
co-worker, Susan, had said he would inherit all of Jethro’s billions once the
old man kicked the bucket. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Powers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Call me Thomas. Around
here, people call my grandfather Mr. Powers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay, I will.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m glad you arrived when
you did. Had you been earlier, you would have had to wait for me. As I got
ready to leave my house, I found that someone had slashed my tires.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, that’s terrible.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He gestured toward the
Ferrari. “Thankfully, I had another car to drive, despite my travel plans being
set back a bit. I’m glad I didn’t keep you waiting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s okay. I would
have waited.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He motioned toward the
house. “Are you ready to go inside?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her heartbeat hammered
with excitement as she silently repeated in her mind, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can do this!</i> “Of course, I’m ready.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After taking two steps
toward the mansion, Thomas paused and glanced back at her. “You’re not afraid
of ghosts, are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She laughed. “Thomas, can
you honestly tell me that there are ghosts in this place?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He shook his head. “No,
there aren’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ghosts</i>.” He hesitated.
“There is only one ghost, and it’s my cousin, Aaron.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She tilted her head,
studying the good-looking man. “Really? You’ve seen him here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Let me tell you
something about this place.” He continued toward the door. “Gramps bought it
when my dad and Aaron’s dad were young, and the family lived in it until Gramps
wanted something bigger. Gramps had another mansion built in Scottsdale, and that’s
where he lives now. The house was then given to Aaron’s father, and Aaron was
born here. When his parents were killed in a car accident, Aaron went to live
with Gramps until he was old enough to live in this house by himself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas pulled out a key,
unlocked the door, and held it open for her. He motioned for her to enter
first. She walked inside the spacious hallway; the many curtained windows
stifling the bright sunlight, casting shadows of various lengths across the
room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So why does that
information have anything to do with ghosts?” she wondered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas casually leaned
his shoulder against the wall as he clicked on the lights. “Because this place
has great memories for Aaron. When he was alive, he felt close to his parents
here, too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She moved toward Thomas
and stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and giving him a serious gaze. “Then
what are the odds the ghosts are his parents?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He nodded slowly and
pulled away from the wall. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s an excellent
point, and…” he grasped her shoulders, “that’s why we want you to do some
research during your stay.” Grinning, he released her and walked past her. “So,
as I said before, I hope you’re not afraid of ghosts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">TWO</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth blinked,
adjusting her vision to the room’s dim lighting. As Thomas walked toward the
grand staircase, she noticed the furnishings of the entryway. Brass-framed
mirrors hung on the walls along with other pictures and ornaments; all objects
sparkled with polished perfection. The wall paneling was dark colored – royal blue
and mauve mixed with natural brown and black. While it was obvious that someone
cleaned this place on a regular basis, it definitely showed that a man had been
living here alone for many years since the décor lacked any sort of flowers or
other feminine items.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The temperature in the
house was cooler than it should be for being an empty house in Arizona. The
central air was definitely working properly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nolan Ricks is the name
of the caretaker,” Thomas said, moving through the entryway toward the grand
staircase. “He’ll come and go throughout your stay, so don’t be alarmed if you
run into him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s good to know,”
she muttered. Perhaps she should pay more attention to Thomas, but she couldn’t
help but study each room as they passed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The first room to the
right was a sitting room furnished with antique couches, tall-backed chairs,
and a modern-looking minibar filled with liquor. Across the hall on the left
seemed to hold an office, defined by a large dark-oak desk with a few filing
cabinets. The next room looked to be a family room, with heavily cushioned
couches placed around the largest fireplace she’d ever seen. Above the mantle
hung a theatre-size flat screen television. Another room was connected to the
family room, and contained two pool tables, an air-hockey table, a ping-pong
table, and another minibar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Just so you know,”
Thomas said as he began his climb up the stairs, “Nolan was Aaron’s best
friend. They met in their young teenage years in school, and they bonded like
brothers. If there is anything you’ll need to know about Aaron, Nolan will be
the man to ask.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, good. I’m sure I’ll
have many questions.” She glanced up the stairs. “Where are you taking me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“To your bedroom, of course.
There are six bedrooms on the second floor that hardly ever get used, so I
asked Nolan to prepare one especially for your stay here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s very kind of you,
but I would have been happy sleeping on one of the couches. From what I’ve
glimpsed so far, I’m sure they are a lot more comfortable than my bed at home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He chuckled. “Aaron did
like nice things. Of course, growing up with Gramps as his guardian, I’m sure
Gramps’ expectation for buying only the best had rubbed off on Aaron.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The tone in Thomas’ voice
shifted slightly when he mentioned Jethro’s and Aaron’s relationship. Had he,
as the cousin and second in line to inherit the billions, been jealous of
Aaron? With Aaron’s golden-child status, she couldn’t help but suspect.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Will I get to meet your
grandfather?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Thomas shrugged. “I don’t
know. Gramps has been quite depressed since Aaron’s death and hasn’t had many
visitors since then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I can imagine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After what seemed like
hundreds of steps, they reached the second floor. The hallway was long and wide
with three doors on each side. She could only wonder about the size of each
bedroom. More pictures hung in the hallway, depicting Aaron during many of his
different performances.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, if Aaron wasn’t
married and didn’t have children, why would he want to live in such a large
house with so many bedrooms? I would think he’d be lonely living in such a
place by himself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Aaron wasn’t married to
a woman, but he was married to his magic. Most of these rooms were where he
practiced his illusions until he mastered them. However, he made it a point not
to be alone very often. He was always hosting private performances and parties
for his closest friends. He always made sure to have at least three of the
bedrooms ready in case a friend ever needed to stay overnight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thomas stopped at the first door on the left
and rested his hand on the knob, sighing. “I wasn’t close to Aaron as an adult,
but from what I’d heard about his life, he had a kind heart. This house was
rarely empty.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He opened the door to the
bedroom and motioned for Elizabeth to enter. She walked inside and gasped,
nearly choking on the air in her throat. This single bedroom was larger than
her whole apartment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A king-size bed with a
four-post wooden frame sat in the middle of the adjacent wall. Its comfy
cushions reflected in the mirrored ceiling above the bed. The rest of the room
was arranged with antique furniture; couches, loveseats, and heavily cushioned
armchairs… not to mention the fireplace on the other wall with an opening large
enough to fit a ten-person kitchen table. The entrance to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two </i>walk-in closets, as well as the adjoining bathroom were nestled
along the back wall. When she stepped inside the bathroom, she gasped again;
the sound of her wonder echoing on the porcelain tile. Luxuriously fluffy
towels hung on the towel rack, and on the opposite side, hung a gigantic mirror
lined with more lights than a Christmas tree. A bathtub as big as a hot tub sat
near the back window, complete with spa jets, spouts, and knobs. The thought of
immersing herself in the wonderful jets of water and not coming out for at
least a whole day began to tempt her mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Is the room to your
liking?” Thomas asked, smiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She walked back toward
him. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Liking? </i>The words I’m looking
for go much deeper than just liking. In fact, you just might have a very
difficult time getting me to leave once my stay is over.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He laughed. “Well, we’ll
see about that. Maybe a night or two of ghostly encounters may change your
mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His comment sent a chill
down her spine as she pulled back the curtains and gazed over the courtyard
below. Despite the crispness of the well-manicured lawn, the enormous swimming
pool and the covered Jacuzzi, and the Arizona sunshine, she couldn’t shake the
feeling that had come over her. Even if Aaron’s ghost did reside here, she
would just have to make friends with it. Staying here one week – or however
long it took to get the place ready to sell – would be so much more relaxing
than any vacation she’d ever taken. And oh… the inspiration for stories that
she’d receive here was just the icing on the cake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She turned and leaned
against the window. She smiled, happy to find Thomas still staring at her. Was
he married? Would he be interested in dating someone like her?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Shaking the thought from
her head, she sighed. Before she could even think of dating other men, she’d
have to figure out a way to get Sam out of her life, first. While there had
been something at the beginning, the love she had thought she’d felt for him
had diminished quickly over time. Mostly, due to Sam’s controlling personality.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So… what do you want me
to do first?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“For today, you can relax
and get to know the house. I want you to wander around and familiarize yourself
with the layout. There are many secret passageways in this place, so you’ll
need to familiarize yourself with those as well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was he serious? </i>“Why are there passageways?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you forgetting what
kind of man Aaron was?” Thomas shook his head. “His heart and mind were
constantly in his magic.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She nodded. “Understandable.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The only place in this
house that you’ll need to stay away from is the basement.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Basement?” She blinked
as surprise washed over her. “Why does this place have a basement?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There are actually two parts to the basement.
There is the wine cellar, of course, but the other room is where Aaron had
hidden his props. After all, it wouldn’t be smart to have them out for all of
his guests to see them.” Thomas chuckled. “The storage area has been securely
locked and they won’t be brought out until the auction before the house sells,
so please don’t try to get into there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Hey, I’m here to do
whatever Mr. Powers needs help with, so if you tell me no, then I won’t do it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He stepped forward and
held out a ring of keys. “These are to the house,” he said and then fished
around in his pants’ pocket. Holding out a business card, he continued, “And
this is my phone number. Call me if you need anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I expect Nolan will be
by shortly to give you more instructions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I can’t wait to meet
him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He turned to walk through
the bedroom door and paused, looking back at her. “I wish you luck, Elizabeth
Martin. You’re going to need it.” He winked, turned, and left the bedroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She softly turned the
keys over in her hand. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Luck? </i>No, she
wouldn’t need luck – not when she was in a place as grand as this. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After a few minutes, she
heard Thomas open and close the front door. The silence of the house quickly
became unsettling, and she resolved to make some sort of noise before her mind
started playing tricks on her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She hurried back down the
stairs and outside to retrieve her luggage, laptop, and briefcase holding all
the legal documents Todd had given her to complete the firm’s transaction with
Mr. Powers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once the trunk of her car
was shut and doors were locked, she gazed up at the mansion. This time, she
studied each window carefully. Was she really by herself now? Or would Aaron’s
ghost try to frighten her? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Whatever happened, she
prayed she’d have the strength and courage to make it through this assignment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Aaron,” she whispered,
“if you’re really here, I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>going
to let you chase me away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, she saw
movement in one of the second-floor windows. Her heartbeat quickened. Were her
eyes playing tricks on her, or did she really see something? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth kept her eyes
on the window, and seconds later, she witnessed the same movement again. A lump
of fear formed in her throat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nodding, she arched an
eyebrow. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And so, the haunting begins.</i>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The kitchen was amazing! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth had never spent
a lot of time in her small apartment’s kitchen, but the expansiveness of this
particular room was making her reconsider a career in the culinary arts. The
cupboards and counters matched the room’s nineteenth-century aesthetic,
although she was sure that people from that era would have been amazed by the
silver double ovens and the chrome-finished dishwashers that had been
installed. The center island in the kitchen had a polished countertop, and the
island held many more drawers, in addition to a trash compactor, an extremely
large sink, and cabinets filled with other gadgets she couldn’t name. The
built-in China hutch on the side wall made her green with envy, as well as the
two chandeliers hanging above the island… and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">three </i>large refrigerators. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She could definitely get
used to something like this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The ding of the microwave
against the far corner of the long counter jerked her out of her dreams and she
withdrew the cup of hot water. She dipped a teabag inside and took the mug and spoon
to the adjoining room, a dining area with one ornate, twelve-chair table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She hadn’t even been here
two hours, and already she was lonely. How could anyone want to live in a place
like this without having a family? Thomas mentioned that Aaron had his friends
over quite frequently, so perhaps that was his solution to the house’s
solemnity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The sound of the front
door opening and closing made her jump, and her heart rate accelerated as
footsteps thudded on the entryway floor. She tried to convince herself it wasn’t
Aaron’s ghost. Why would a ghost just walk through the front door?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
On unsteady legs, she
rose from the table and moved into the hallway. Instead of finding a ghost, she
found a man wearing a green short-sleeve polo shirt, khaki shorts, and black
flip-flops. He had his attention on the letters in his hands, placing one
behind the other as he read their fronts. He looked to be in his mid-thirties.
His light brown hair was longer than she liked, barely brushing his shoulders,
but at least it wasn’t long enough to put up in a man bun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Finally finished with the
mail, he lifted his gaze and walked toward her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You must be Elizabeth
Martin.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I am.” She walked toward
him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m Nolan Ricks, the
caretaker of the estate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She shook hands with him.
“And, you were best friends with the deceased.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His smile disappeared and
he nodded. “That, too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Please accept my deepest
condolences.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Thank you.” He nodded
and took a deep breath. “Thomas sent me a text to let me know you were here and
settling in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Actually, I just
finished unpacking.” She pointed to the dining room. “I was just having some
lemon balm tea. Would you like some?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Tea? In this heat? I’m
sure there is some iced-tea in the fridge.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m an herbal woman.
Plus, it helps me focus.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He shrugged. “Whatever is
best for you, I guess. I don’t need anything to drink right now, but I’ll sit
with you while you finish your tea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He followed her into the
dining room and sat beside her. Nolan was a nice-looking man. Not as handsome
as Thomas, and of course, nowhere near as handsome as Aaron’s many pictures
that she’d seen since she first heard about him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She drank the last of her
tea and leaned back in her chair, looking at Nolan. “What exactly does Mr.
Powers need me to do in order to get the estate ready to be sold?” She glanced
toward the window before looking back at him. “From what I’ve seen of the
inside, and the outside, the place looks ready to me. So now I think I’m
missing a piece of the puzzle – something neither you nor Thomas has told me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan’s eyebrow rose
slightly. “What do you think that is? Thomas did tell you about Aaron’s ghost,
right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“He mentioned the ghost.”
She drummed her fingers on the table. “But I can’t help but doubt his stories.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan linked his fingers
on the table and leaned forward toward her. “You’re not a ghost believer?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, not entirely.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sure within the next
twenty-four hours you’ll change your mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth couldn’t stop
being suspicious of Nolan, and even Thomas. But Nolan was the one who looked as
if he knew something more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nolan? Have you
personally seen Aaron’s ghost?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sighing, his gaze dropped
to his hands. He was silent for a few moments. “Although Aaron and I were best
friends, I haven’t seen him.” He lifted his gaze to her. “I’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">felt </i>him here. I’ve heard noises in his
room when nobody else is in there. And… I’ve smelled him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smelled</i> him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan nodded. “Aaron’s
favorite cologne was a fragrance by Giorgio Armani. It’s an unmistakable scent.
Whenever I know Aaron’s spirit is nearby, I can smell his cologne.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth honestly didn’t
know what to believe. Nolan looked so sincere – so trustworthy, and remarkably
enough, he didn’t look crazy. Of course, neither did Thomas, although she felt
the cousin had a bad case of jealousy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nolan? Do you think
Aaron’s death was an accident like all the articles I’ve read have described?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His mouth tightened and
his forehead creased. “I’d bet all the money I have that my best friend was
murdered.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She held her breath. If
she had been watching all of this on the movie screen, this would be the part
where she’d hear the music – dun, dun, duuuun… Yet, this was not a movie. This
was really happening, and she was now involved. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
This would definitely
make a great book once it was over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Tell me, Nolan. If you
were the police investigator for this case, who would you suspect of killing
Aaron?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His face hardened and his
green eyes turned so dark, she thought they were black.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“ZoAnn, his assistant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sucking in a quick
breath, Elizabeth knew her work was cut out for her, and she couldn’t wait to
start poking her nose into things that weren’t her business. If there were any way,
maybe she’d be able to uncover more about his death and potentially solve his
murder. Maybe if she did that, he would have enough peace to cross over… <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
If his ghost really was
here, of course.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THREE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth stood in the
kitchen, washing out her porcelain cup and spoon. Nolan reached into the fridge
and pulled out a cold bottled water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I knew from the start,” Nolan
said, “that ZoAnn only wanted Aaron because of his grandfather’s money. It was
common knowledge around these parts that he was the grandson who would inherit more
of his grandfather’s billions. Thomas would inherit some as well, just not as
much.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth grabbed a dish
towel to dry her dishes. “So, if it was obvious to you that she was after his
billions, why didn’t he see that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I believe that was part
of her game.” Nolan shook his head as he unscrewed the lid and tipped the
bottle to his mouth. He took several gulps before moving away from the fridge.
“Aaron actually met ZoAnn through Thomas. She had been going out with Thomas,
but when she showed interest in being Aaron’s assistant, Thomas knew he
couldn’t compete with his cousin, so he broke it off with her. ZoAnn wasn’t
actually Aaron’s first choice when it came to his assistants, but she resembled
his existing assistant, Gina, so Aaron hired her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth placed the cup
back in the cupboard and the spoon in the drawer, before waving her hand to
stop him. “Hold on. I’m confused. Why does it matter if his assistants look
alike?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan grinned. “I’ll tell
you, but I’ll be giving away a magician’s secret here, so don’t tell anyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“A secret?” Elizabeth
moved closer to Nolan as excitement pumped through her. “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love </i>secrets.” Of course, she would take mental notes for the story
she was formulating, but Nolan would never know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Have you ever seen a
magic act where the magician makes his assistant disappear, and within a split
second, she’s across the room?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, I think so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The only way that trick
is possible is with two assistants that look very similar to each other. After
the main assistant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">disappears</i>, she
hides in one of the stage props. The second assistant that nobody knows about
is the one that suddenly appears whenever she’s needed. It’s all about timing
and distance. If she’s far enough away from the audience, they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think </i>they are the same woman.” He
shrugged. “It’s all a clever illusion.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay, that makes sense. So, were there any
relationship problems between Aaron, Gina, and ZoAnn?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Gina flirted with Aaron
every chance she got. She’d do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>for
his love and attention. However, Aaron really didn’t want a relationship with
someone as clingy as Gina. Once ZoAnn entered his life, her treating him as a
friend and not throwing herself on him was a refreshing change. It ended up
distracting him from what I saw in her when he wasn’t looking. I could see the
lustful dollar signs in her eyes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m assuming they dated.” Elizabeth leaned
her elbow on the counter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“They did. He’d even
thought about proposing at one point.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What stopped him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Grandpa Powers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth widened her
eyes and hiccupped a small laugh. “He stopped it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan nodded. “Gramps had
suspected the whole time that ZoAnn was being underhanded, so he added a clause
to his will. The change made it clear that if Aaron married, his spouse
wouldn’t have access to his inheritance. Even more, upon Aaron’s death the
money would be passed on to Gramps’ other grandson, Thomas. With that one
change, Jethro made sure that money-hungry women his grandson would encounter
would never get their clutches on his billions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth laughed. “Let
me guess… after ZoAnn found out about the change, she was the one to break off
their relationship?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan winked. “Actually,
it was Aaron. He noticed a change in her demeanor. She began acting more
indifferent to his grandfather and him. That’s when Aaron finally realized that
ZoAnn wasn’t the woman for him, so he broke it off with her. He was not only
protecting his heart, but his wallet.” He took another swig of his water before
recapping the lid. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay, so ZoAnn was upset
at Mr. Powers’ changing his will, but that doesn’t really explain why she’d
want Aaron dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“ZoAnn didn’t want to
break up with Aaron. Although she’d never get his money if they were married,
she still wanted to enjoy the life of a rich man’s wife. Aaron tried to break
off their relationship nicely. She was a good assistant, and he didn’t want to
lose that. He promised he’d pay her well for being his assistant and that he’d
never find anyone else who could replace her.” He drained the last of his water
and tossed the bottle in the kitchen’s recycling bin. “Then one day, ZoAnn decided
to try and get back together with Aaron, so she stopped by to see him at the
house. He was in the Jacuzzi with Gina… and she was in his arms.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth sucked in a
quick breath, her mouth forming a surprised <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O</i>.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That happened a week
before he died.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So ZoAnn assumed he was
replacing her, both as an employee and as a girlfriend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Exactly.” Sighing, he
crossed his arms over his chest. A few moments passed and he smiled. “Hey,
would you like to see one of Aaron’s favorite rooms in the house?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her heartbeat quickened.
“I’d love to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She followed Nolan out of
the kitchen and across the spacious hallway, into the room where she’d seen the
pool table earlier. She wasn’t much of a pool player, but she had messed around
in billiards bars with her friends during her college years and knew enough to
get by. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once inside the room, her
mouth dropped open in awe. There were more than just pool tables, air hockey,
and ping-pong tables. One entire wall that was on the opposite end of the room
was nothing but mirror from ceiling to floor. Strange golden vine-like designs
were traced across its surface, and the occasional bit of gold-leaf catching
the light from the nearby window, making it sparkle. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She slowly walked over to
one of the arcade games and brushed her hands across its faded buttons. It’d
been a while since she’d seen arcade games like this. Some of the titles Aaron
owned were among the first video games that had come out in the ‘80’s. She
grinned, imagining Aaron trying to beat his high score surrounded by a group of
his friends. Her gaze shifted to the minibar filled with glass bottles and
decanters of various shades of amber liquid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nolan?” she asked,
walking to the bar and picking up one of the bottles. “Was Aaron a heavy
drinker?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, why do you ask?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Because I’ve noticed a
lot of liquor bars in this house so far, and I haven’t been through every room,
yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan chuckled. “Aaron was
just a social wine drinker. He always preferred wine over the heavy stuff, but
he always made sure to have a decent selection for his friends. I’d imagine his
preference had something to do with being raised by Gramps and being around the
wineries so often. Plus,” Nolan sighed and frowned, “that’s how his parents
died. His father had too much to drink one night and tried to drive himself and
his wife back to their hotel where they were staying. They didn’t make it. It
was one of the reasons Aaron only drank wine – and very little of it, at that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth nodded. While
the story of his parents’ death was sad, she seemed to be liking Aaron a little
more with every story she heard. “Wise man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, he was.” Nolan
moved to the pool table and placed the eight-ball in the center. “So, would you
like to know why this was Aaron’s favorite room?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan gestured for her to
move to the other side of the pool table, and then grinned. “Even as a boy
first learning magic, Aaron loved to use his skills to play jokes on his
friends. As an adult, he improved his craft. Watch…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan lowered his
eyebrows and focused on the eight-ball. He leaned in closer, making sure not to
touch the felted green surface. Suddenly, the black ball twitched. First once,
then twice, then it shot across the table toward one of the corner pockets.
Then, as if by magic, the eight-ball reversed directions and rolled back to the
center of the table, stopping right in the center, perfectly still.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Gasping, Elizabeth jumped
away from the table, her hands over her mouth in awe. Nolan laughed and
motioned for her to come and stand next to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Don’t be afraid,” he
said. “It’s all an illusion that Aaron designed. He had this table custom made
to perform the trick. All you have to do is press this hidden button.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Cautiously, she moved
beside Nolan and studied the area underneath the table where his hand was
touching. The intricate scrollwork of the wood seemed to be seamless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Go on,” he urged. “Put
your hand right here. You’ll feel a slight indentation. Slide it to the right
and see what happens.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She slowly moved her hand
to the spot he had indicated and did as he’d directed. Once again, as if by
magic, the eight-ball shot across the table and smacked another ball right into
the corner pocket. She laughed and stepped back again. “Aaron was the little
trickster, wasn’t he?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan leaned on the
table, giving her a lazy grin. “He especially loved scaring beautiful women
because it gave him the chance to take them in his arms and comfort them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth’s heart flipped
as butterflies danced in her belly. Why was Nolan looking at her with dreamy
eyes? Had he wanted to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">comfort </i>her
for her momentary freak-out just a second ago? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the fluttering feelings, she knew
she’d have to turn him down. Although he was easy to talk with and was rather
good-looking, she just couldn’t think about getting involved with someone right
now. And to be fair, she needed to give Sam his walking papers, first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She moistened her
suddenly dry throat with a hard swallow. “Was the pool table the only reason
this was Aaron’s favorite room?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, there’s more.” He
motioned his head toward the mirrored wall. “Come with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He took her hand without
asking, and while not completely unexpected, she decided she wouldn’t get upset
about it yet. After all, Nolan was quite entertaining, even if the only thing
he was doing was telling her about a dead man’s life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When they reached the
mirror, he lifted her hand to the glass and pressed her palm against a cluster
of ornate designs near the top corner. The mirror shifted. Once again, she
gasped and jumped back. Slowly, a large piece of the mirrored wall pulled
itself backward a few inches and then slid to the side, revealing a darkened
pathway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She threw Nolan a
confused look. “Are you kidding me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Not at all. Weren’t you
told about the passages?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well… yes. Thomas did
mention them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This is one of the
entrances.” His grin widened. “Care to take a tour through the secrets of the
mansion?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She wasn’t afraid of the
dark, but this kind of darkness terrified her. If she entered, she knew she’d
find rats or spiders or… lizards, since this was Arizona. Besides her phobias,
she wasn’t sure she knew Nolan well enough yet to trust being alone with him
inside darkened passageways where she knew he expected her to jump into his
welcoming arms for comfort at the first sign of trouble.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Thanks for the tempting
offer, but I’m going to pass this time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He shrugged, pressed
another spot on the mirror, and the panel slid closed again. “Just let me know
whenever you want a tour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I will.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Nolan stared at her as if
trying to read her thoughts. She hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking
right now. Finally, he pulled away from the wall and withdrew his cell phone,
checking the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oops, I’ve chatted with
you longer than I should have. I have a few things to do before I leave.” He
stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Is there anything I can get you before I
go?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nothing I can think of –
except your phone number.” His eyebrow shot up as a cocky grin stretched his mouth.
Inwardly, she groaned, knowing she’d given him the wrong impression, so she
quickly added, “I need your number just in case I do need something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His expression relaxed
and he nodded as he pulled out his phone. “What’s your number and I’ll text it
to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She gave him her number
and he punched it in his phone, and then called her. When her phone rang, she
saved it. “Thanks again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, have fun.” He
turned toward the door. “Call me any time – day or night. With any luck, the
ghost won’t bother you too much.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I think I can handle
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay. See ya.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she watched Nolan
leave, she prayed she was right. Hopefully, she really could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">handle </i>a ghost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
* * * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is so much better than a nice hotel. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth sighed and
relaxed in the surprisingly comfortable Jacuzzi. The warm water bubbled over
her bikini-clad body, and she sank further into the soothing water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After Nolan had left,
she’d wandered inside each room on the first and second floors, taking pictures
and sending them to Todd. For some reason, none of the keys Thomas had given
her had worked for the third-floor door, and she still couldn’t figure out how
to get inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Todd had called her once
he received the pictures, but he didn’t know what exactly she needed to do,
either. “Just pretend you’re on vacation for now,” he’d told her. “Enjoy the
beautiful, big house while you can.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So, following his advice,
relaxing in the Jacuzzi was the first thing on her list to enjoy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">while she could</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She’d turned the music on
her phone to a classic rock playlist; love ballads were her favorite. Smiling,
she closed her eyes and relished the gentle massage from the jetted tub.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she relaxed, she
reflected on the other things she had done today. She’d spent a lot of time
searching the internet as she ate dinner – a wonderful spread of grilled
chicken breast and steamed broccoli and cauliflower. She was surprised at how
the kitchen seemed to have so many of her favorite foods. She had mainly been
searching the internet for anything related to Aaron Powers’ death. One of the pieces
of research she’d found was a video from someone who’d been in the audience
during Aaron’s last performance. While the video wasn’t very long, the owner
had recorded the disturbing scene, and her mind hadn’t been able to stop
replaying it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She pictured the video in
her mind again: she saw the assistant, who Elizabeth assumed was ZoAnn,
strutting around the box that had several hilts protruding from its top. She
reached for the one in the center and pulled it out with flair – and then froze
as she saw the crimson blood on the blade. She stared at the blood for a few
unsettling seconds, and then screamed as she dropped the sword and slowly
backed away from the box. At this point, some people in the crowd had also
began screaming and four men from backstage rushed onto the stage, attempting
to open the lid to the box. Security guards began running down the aisles
attempting to calm the crowd, as someone backstage started to close the curtains.
As the curtains were halfway closed, the video ended abruptly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth couldn’t help
but put herself in his situation; inside a box and couldn’t get out, knowing
the swords would slice through the box at any second. And then, she imagined
the pain…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She shivered and shook
her head, trying not to think of something so traumatizing. The articles she
read all said it was an accident, and yet, Nolan firmly believed Aaron was
murdered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, the motor in
the Jacuzzi stopped, and the bubbles ceased bubbling. She snapped alert. She
pushed the button on the control panel to start it up again, but nothing
happened. She looked around, trying to see where it was plugged in. Her gaze followed
the power cord to one of the walls of the gazebo… and stopped on the plug that
was now on the cement floor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her heartbeat
accelerated, and she paused her music, listening for any nearby sounds. Someone
must have unplugged it, but she didn’t see any signs of someone being there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She climbed out of the
Jacuzzi, picking up her towel to dry her hands before plugging it into the
outlet again. The motor started up again, and she moved back to the tub. As
soon as she slid one leg inside, it turned off again. She snapped her gaze
toward the outlet. The plug was lying on the ground again… but nobody was
around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Fear pumped through her
body as her mind raced to explain the mysterious unplugging. She couldn’t
believe… she didn’t want to believe. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Slowly, she moved out of
the tub and picked up her towel again, wrapping it around her body. “Who is
there?” She paused and then added, “Because I know someone is there. I don’t
scare easily,” she lied. Her inquiries were met with silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From the other side of
the gazebo, she heard the limbs from the bushes shake – and yet, there was no
wind. She spun around. The movement of the bushes transferred from one plant to
the other, slowly moving closer to where she stood. <o:p></o:p></div>
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She clutched the towel
tighter as her heartbeat shifted into overdrive. She needed something to use as
protection, but she hadn’t even brought her shoes out with her. Running in the
opposite direction and screaming was the first thing to cross her mind, but fear
paralyzed her as she realized she was all alone. Who would hear her cry for
help?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nobody. <o:p></o:p></div>
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PURCHASE LINK - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07VZT8S6Y">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07VZT8S6Y</a></div>
Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-53862318004416403762019-05-29T20:56:00.000-06:002019-05-29T21:09:52.331-06:00It's almost summer... LET'S READ!!I'm writing my newsletter on my blog today, and I'll be watching to see how well this works. So bear with me during my trial & error time. I'm hoping this way I can engage readers a little smoother. Wish me luck!<br />
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There is no new release today, however, my American Western Romance - An Agent for Claudia - is really kicking butt in the review department. I'm thrilled how many great reviews I've been getting. You'll have to check them out, and while you're there, purchase the book yourself and read to see if the reviews are telling the truth. <grins> <a href="http://mybook.to/AgentforClaudia" target="_blank"> mybook.to/AgentforClaudia</a></grins><br />
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My next release is almost here. June 5th can't get here soon enough!! Do you remember reading <a href="http://mybook.to/LovingAScoundrel" target="_blank">"Loving a Scoundrel"</a>? Well, this is Priscilla's story. She was in that story, and in <a href="http://mybook.to/RoguishlyMatched" target="_blank">"Roguishly Matched"</a>.<br />
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What more can the second daughter of a tradesman hope to
gain in life than becoming the companion of Dowager Duchess of Englewood?
Especially, when she was resigned to become a spinster? However, misfortune
strikes Priscilla Benson’s world once again, when one of the men who had broken
her heart, returns and brings more havoc. She’s determined not to let the rogue
steal her heart again. And yet, she finds she’s drawn to him more now than ever
before.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gavin Hamilton’s new title as Duke of Englewood is more
difficult than he could ever imagine. Not only does he have to straighten up
his own wayward life, but now he needs to repair the damage done by his
deceased father, to his family’s name. But when Gavin gets caught in a
scandalous situation with his grandmother’s new lady’s companion, he must not
return to his former life as a rogue. Instead, he’ll do everything he can to
make Priscilla look at him as a true gentleman.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pre-order link - <a href="http://mybook.to/LovingaRogue" target="_blank"> mybook.to/LovingaRogue</a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="color: blue; font-size: 24px;"><em>Billionaire Fun!!!</em></strong></div>
<strong></strong><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><strong>You really need to check out these awesome clean romances!</strong></strong></div>
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<strong><br /></strong><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NJ3SYC8" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NJ3SYC8</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Her-Bucket-List-Billionaire-Billionaires-ebook/dp/B07Q5QCSV8" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.com/Her-Bucket-List-Billionaire-Billionaires-ebook/dp/B07Q5QCSV8</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 24px;"><strong><span style="color: red;">AUTHORS HELPING AUTHORS...<br />SHARING MORE FUN STORIES!!</span></strong></span></div>
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I like to find authors who have new releases or have discounted their books, and share them with my friends! I hope you check them out!</div>
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<span style="color: violet;"><strong><span style="font-size: 18px;">I HAVE A FACEBOOK GROUP!!</span></strong><br />It's not too late to join! <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/230743014349653/" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/groups/230743014349653/</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: violet;"><strong><span style="font-size: 14px;">Facebook Series groups I'm with:</span></strong><br /><em>The Pinkerton Matchmaker series </em></span><span style="color: violet;"><em>-</em> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/PinkertonMatchmakerReaders/" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/groups/PinkertonMatchmakerReaders/ </a></span><br />
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<span style="color: violet;"><em>Match Made i</em></span><span style="color: violet;"><em>n Heaven Series -</em> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/294825444466831/" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/groups/294825444466831/</a></span></div>
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<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-7054367641737658142019-05-21T15:17:00.000-06:002019-05-21T15:17:29.990-06:00SNEAK PEEK - An Agent for ClaudiaWe all like sneak peeks, right? For those readers who are following the Pinkerton Matchmaker series, my book will be here in a few days!!<br />
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SNEAK PEEK...<br />
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A stone bench beckoned her, and she breathed an exhausted sigh as she
sat down. She literally loathed these parties. All society wanted to do was
create gossip and ruin people’s lives. Why couldn’t her neighbors leave her in
peace and let her live the way she wanted without being so judgmental?<o:p></o:p></div>
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She prayed every night Johnny would return and save her from greedy men
like Phillip. The whole time Johnny had been a soldier for their dear
confederate land, she’d watched for the monthly list of casualties, but his
name was never on it. He’d promised her that they’d marry right after the war
ended. They were in love, and nothing would stop their dreams. But time passed
quickly and threatened to squash her future plans.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Charleston’s heat nearly suffocated her, and she longed to pull apart
the first two buttons on her bodice to allow air to cool her a bit. Instead,
she adjusted the yellow skirt over her legs, careful not to disrupt the neatly
laced shorter skirt around her waist. What a bother to have to wear all of
these layers when it was much cooler to lounge in her chemise inside her room
next to an open, shaded window.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A group of men’s jovial voices neared her secluded spot. She held her
breath and stayed still, praying they would walk past and not bother her
seclusion. Luckily, they were content to stand on the other side of the hedges
and smoke their pipes and cigars. She whipped her fan out to wave the stench of
their bad habits away from her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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“Doesn’t Miss Tandy look lovely today? I don’t think I’ve seen her
mother chasing after her as she usually does.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The voice sounded like Frank Winslow, a man who was engaged to marry Bethlyn
Mayweather, a good friend of Claudia’s. She rolled her eyes. <i>Men</i>. Sometimes
they were worse than women with their gossip.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The men chuckled, and then their laughs quieted. “Actually, it is Miss
Cummings I have my eye on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The voice was one she didn’t recognize, and she leaned closer to the
hedges to hear what this particular man had to say about her. She would box his
ears if he said something inappropriate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Indeed?” Adam Carlton asked. “I’m assuming you’ve not met the woman
before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Claudia gnashed her teeth. Adam was very close to being reprimanded in
front of his friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, I have not yet had the privilege,” the unrecognizable voice said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The men laughed again, their humor grating on her already frazzled
nerves.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Ah, that explains it. She’s a scrumptious vision, to be sure, but
once you get to know her, she’s as cold as ice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fuming, she jumped to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t allow her to
move any further. She’d teach that Frank Winslow to open his mouth and speak
nonsense about her… if she could convince her feet to walk around the hedges
first.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“She seems like such a charmin’ lady,” the strange voice replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh, she is charming, but…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Whatever happened during the silence made the men laugh. Anger coursed
through her until she was ready to scream. But she remained still, listening.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Winslow is right,” Henry Williams said. “Miss Cummings is as frigid
as a glacier. Her family has money, plenty of it, but the little filly is not
going to share. She’s half crazy, believing her dead soldier will suddenly come
back into her life and marry her. She refuses to look at any other man. She’ll
die an old maid, I’ll bet good money on it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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A heavy pulse throbbed in her skull and brought tears to her eyes. How
dare they talk about her as if… as if… She swallowed hard and placed her hand
to her chest, reminding herself to breathe slower before her head exploded.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Although she hated to admit it, they were right about one thing. She
wasn’t ready to look at another man until she learned what had really happened
to Johnny. After all, he still held her heart and she would only marry the love
of her life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s unfortunate,” the strange man was saying. “I think she’s a
lovely woman with a warm smile.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Taking a deep breath, she nodded. At least one man was on her side.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Do you, by chance, have ideas about trying to steal her heart?” Henry
chuckled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Perhaps.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The men roared with laughter again. “I would certainly love to see you
try,” Adam said. “In fact, I’m willing to place a bet on this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She gasped, quickly covering her hand over her mouth, hoping they
hadn’t heard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“A bet, you say?” the stranger asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yes.” Adam’s high-pitched laugh unnerved her greatly. “I bet you a
month’s salary that you won’t be able to charm the Ice Queen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The other men gathered around voiced their agreement toward the bet. “I’m
not sure,” said the stranger. “I’m low on funds as it is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Ah, come now. You’re a handsome, strapping young man. I think you
should at least give it a try. You never know, you might win.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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How she’d like to throttle her so-called friends right here and now. Yet
a part of her wanted to side with the stranger, even though she knew he’d never
win. But more than anything, she’d like to show those others that she was <i>not</i>
an Ice Queen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then again, perhaps she was. She wanted only one man – her soldier.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The men’s laughter faded with their retreating footsteps. Good. They
were gone. Now she could come out of hiding. She peeked around the edge to see
how far they had walked. Frank, Henry, Adam, and the other man headed toward
the river’s edge. She tiptoed from behind the hedges, keeping her eyes on them.
Who was that man with them, anyway?<o:p></o:p></div>
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When the group laughed again, the stranger turned his head, allowing
her to see his profile. She sucked in a quick breath<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. Mr. Bentley</i>. He was the stranger Phillip had told her about. No
wonder he’d studied her so intently during her dance with Phillip.<o:p></o:p></div>
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How very interesting.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As she watched them, she bunched her hands into fists. If only she
could teach them a lesson for spreading false rumors and being so vicious.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ideas swirled in her head and she grinned. She was not a malicious
person by nature, but after what she’d overheard, she wanted to get back at
them in some way. It might be the only way she could repair the damage done to
her heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Coming to a decision, she grinned. She would have fun at their expense
and perhaps make some money herself. That would be the perfect revenge.</div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Pre-order link - <a href="http://mybook.to/AgentforClaudia" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-57739818158325160992019-01-14T21:14:00.001-07:002019-01-14T21:18:11.989-07:00New Release - Secrets of the Past (Clean Historical Western Romance)I'm very excited about my new release. A couple of months ago, <a href="http://www.ameliacadams.com/" target="_blank">Amelia Adams</a> approached me and asked if I wanted to write a story for her bestselling historical western romance series, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/New-Beginning-Kansas-Crossroads-Book-ebook/dp/B00UP43EAE" target="_blank">"Kansas Crossroads"</a>. I was THRILLED that she asked me since anyone who reads clean historical romance knows how popular Amelia Adams' stories are. Well, now my story is out!! THANK YOU, AMELIA!<br />
<br />
On KINDLE and KINDLE UNLIMITED!!<br />
Purchase link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07L7Z6QWJ">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07L7Z6QWJ</a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Texas Ranger, Wyatt Donovan comes to Topeka, Kansas, to face his past heartaches. When he meets his childhood friend’s sister after thirteen years, he’s more than ready to become the hero she sees in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Josette Allen was always an odd girl, but as a woman, her inquisitive mind makes the town believe she’s insane. When her childhood crush saunters into town, stirring up old feelings, Josie is ready to catch his eye. Unfortunately, the only thing she’s good at catching is mayhem.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Will she ever be the reason he has stars in his eyes… or will she always be the thorn in his side?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<b>PROLOGUE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>December, 1862<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Texas 8<sup>th </sup>Cavalry Encampment—Middle Tennessee<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Bone-weary after yet another hard day’s ride, Sergeant Wyatt Donovan collapsed onto his bedroll before the crackling orange flames. The warm glow did little to ease the chill from his bones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How are those beans coming along, James?” Wyatt’s best friend stooped over the fire as he stirred a spoon in the pot, grinning like a cat with cream. James had acquired a small stash of beans – a rare commodity in the south these days. “Just where did you find the beans?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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James lifted the pot from the grate over the flames and poured the steaming cooked beans into two separate mugs. “You really don’t want to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wyatt gave James a nod. No doubt he’d traded with some Yankee. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Wyatt took his first bite of beans in over a year and sighed. <i>Pure bliss. </i>At the moment he didn’t particularly care if the devil himself provided the gift. He relaxed against the bedroll propped next to the saddle, resting his head, and let the hot food warm him from the inside out. He took another bite and reached into his saddlebag, withdrawing the battered letter he’d received that morning. Mail was just as scarce as beans and he wanted to savor the irony of having both at once.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Is the letter from that pretty little wife of yours?” James plunked down beside him with a suggestive wink.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wyatt turned the letter over in his hand. “It’s from your father actually. I haven’t found a moment to read it, until now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“My father?” Deftly James snatched the letter from his hand. “Why is he writing you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t know. Give it back and we’ll find out.” Wyatt yanked the envelope back. <o:p></o:p></div>
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James’ question was on Wyatt’s mind, too. Why <i>would </i>Dr. Allen write to him? Quickly Wyatt slipped a thumb beneath the folds and opened the missive. “It’s dated August 18<sup>th</sup>.” He shook his head, tossing a sidelong glance to James. “What is today’s date?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t know.” James shrugged. “Christmas was… what? Three days ago? So, it’s the twenty-eighth.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Your father sent the letter over four months ago,” he scoffed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Who cares? Even old news is still news. Would you just read it to ease both of our minds?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“All right, all right.” Wyatt shifted his gaze down the page. “Dear Wyatt.” He paused for dramatic effect, purely to torment his friend, and grinned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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James slugged him in the arm. “Read it!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wyatt grinned. His friend’s curiosity was as great as his was<i>. </i>“It is with a heavy heart and deepest regrets that I write to inform you—” Wyatt stopped short, eyes riveted to the doctor’s impossible scrawl as he continued to read in silence – <i>of the unfortunate and untimely death of your wife. She’d traveled from Missouri to visit us for a spell, but just yesterday Marjorie was found in the woods, dead. Unfortunately, nothing could be done, and I determined the cause of death was murder. I believe she was poisoned, but I cannot prove it. I realize you are a man who likes answers, but I fear I’m unable to offer any at this time. To my best estimation, Marjorie died very early in the morning after someone had taken her to the wooded area and poisoned her. Rest assured, we have contacted her family and they will plan the gravesite service for your wife here in Tokepa, Kansas. Yours in friendship, Dr. John Allen<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Numb, Wyatt flicked his gaze back over the words. No! It couldn’t be true. He read the missive a third time. His stomach clenched, and the page trembled in his grasp.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Come back to me, Wyatt… </i>Marjorie’s lilting voice rang through his mind as clearly as if she were standing beside him. He could more than hear her, he could <i>smell</i> the exact scent of lilac in her hair and <i>see</i> the amber of her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Numbness gave way to denial.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. Not for four months. If Marjorie was truly gone, he would feel it. She was a part of his soul. If she died, a piece of him went with her. But he was still whole… wasn’t he?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, God. Please, no!” Denial dissolved into anguish. <i>He </i>was the one fighting a war. <i>He </i>was supposed to die. Not Marjorie. Never Marjorie. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Wyatt?” James rested a hand on his shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fiery red-hot anger burned within him, twisting and contorting until the sliver of his soul belonging to Marjorie and no other broke off and slipped away, leaving nothing but pain in its wake. The collar of his butternut jacket tightened, and he couldn’t breathe. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Shaking with rage, Wyatt stood, wadding the miserable missive. The hot beans spilled down the front of his trousers. He didn’t care.<o:p></o:p></div>
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James wrenched the crumpled paper from his fingers, smoothed out the wrinkles and skimmed the paper. His face turned pale and tears gathered in his eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Wyatt, I… I’m so sorry,” he murmured after a few moments in a shaky voice. “I don’t know what to say.” Gently he refolded the letter, handing it back to Wyatt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Burn it.” Wyatt met his friend’s tearful gaze. “I never want to see those words again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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With a nod, James threw the crumpled note into the fire. Instantly the flames licked the edges of the paper, obliterating all evidence. Unfortunately, the truth was not so easily banished and as the last ashes disappeared, so did every hope and dream he’d nurtured for his marriage.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wyatt vowed never to fall in love again. The pain of losing someone was too unbearable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>ONE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>Topeka, Kansas<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>September 7, 1875<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Stepping off the train, Wyatt Donovan’s cold heart refused to make him feel anything about his hometown. Releasing a deep sigh, Wyatt slowly scanned his gaze down Main Street. Topeka was still as dusty as he remembered. Then again, some things never change.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
However, one thing was different. The large two-storied hotel that was about ready to fall apart when he’d left town all those years ago, appeared to have been remodeled into a new hotel. The Brody Hotel. He was impressed with the changes, and he especially liked the updated wrap-around porch in front.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt gripped his satchel and continued moving toward the hotel. He shifted his attention to Main Street. The shops lining both sides of the road were busier than when he lived here as a young boy, and many people were hurrying from one place to the other. As usual, old widows and spinsters gathered in front of the milliner’s shop, twittering about anything and anyone. Young men perched along the front of the <i>Silver Dollar Saloon</i> with one foot propped on the boardwalk and the other on the dirt road in front, thumbs in their front pockets. They watched the young ladies stroll in front of them, twirling parasols to shade their faces<i>.</i> The apple pies baking inside <i>Charlotte’s Eatery</i> wafted through the hot breeze as their sweet scent filled his nostrils.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His homecoming should be joyful, but it wasn’t. Pain wrenched at his chest like a bullet to the heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He hadn’t been back since he’d visited Marjorie’s grave right after the war ended. The visit was short, but he left quickly as he didn’t want to wallow in his misery. This blasted town had taken away his childhood, forcing him to become an adult faster than anticipated when he was only eleven years old and his parents died. Once he’d moved to Missouri with his older brother, Wyatt vowed never to step foot in Topeka again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He’d joined the Texas Rangers not long after the war ended, and he’d hoped that working for them would help bury the pieces of his shattered life and allow him to go forward. For a while, he’d been content chasing down outlaws with the other Rangers. Now the outlaws were the reason he was back in Topeka.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The clamoring of small feet shook the boardwalk, mere seconds before two little scamps knocked into him. He teetered, but quickly regained his balance and stepped out of the way. The two boys darted into the street, taking turns as they playfully shoved each other back and forth. Their smiles grew larger as the seconds passed by. Across the street at the Mercantile, their mother called them home for supper. Grumbling, they sluggishly walked back toward the store with drooping shoulders and long faces.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Recalling the days after he’d moved to Missouri, Wyatt chuckled. His first and forever friend had been James Allen. They were inseparable as young men… and always in some kind of trouble. After he and James had joined the war, Dr. Allen had moved his practice to Topeka. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
On impulse, he lifted his gaze toward the shops, searching for the doctor’s office. Wyatt had been there once, the day he’d come to see Marjorie’s grave, and he hadn’t been back since. James would be surprised to see him, but not as surprised as when Wyatt offered him a position working for the Texas Rangers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Curiosity moved Wyatt’s feet as he headed toward the building where the doctor’s sign hung haphazardly above the door. Memories flooded his mind as a pang of homesickness crawled into his belly. What had become of his friend? Since the war ended, the little contact they’d first maintained had dwindled over time and eventually died. In truth, any reminders of when he’d met, fallen in love, and married Marjorie had proved unbearable, and Wyatt had slowly stopped writing to James.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
From out of nowhere, a loud boom shook the ground. Wyatt jumped, instinctively reaching for his pistol as he searched for the cause of the explosion. A black cloud of smoke billowed from the old barn behind the doctor’s office, pouring from the chimney and filtering through the windows. His heart sank, and panic surged through him. He needed to help. Images of his friend’s family screaming as their flesh burned flashed through his head, churning his stomach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt broke into a run. He pushed past people who stood in his way. A few had turned to look at the smoke, but they shrugged and went about their business without helping. Frustration grew inside his chest for their carelessness, but he couldn’t stop to ask questions now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
When he reached the double-doors to the barn’s entry, the smoke didn’t appear as dark, but a metallic screech loud enough to wake the dead, ripped through the air, grating his eardrums. He yanked open the barriers and rushed inside. Smoke burned his eyes and he stopped short, unable to see six inches in front of his face. Choking on the black smoke, he waved a hand to clear the air, coughing. Slowly the room came into view and Wyatt glanced around the cluttered area. No flames danced across the walls, only smoke. <i>Odd.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A woman sat in the middle of the floor, staring at the large strange-looking contraption still sputtering and spewing small puffs of acrid smoke. The machine, bearing some resemblance to a steam locomotive, screeched and groaned like an injured animal caught in a trap. Little by little, the device quieted. Incoherent grumbles came from the woman as she aimed a murderous glare at the machine. Wavy long hair coated in soot, stuck out in odd shapes and different directions around her head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Cautiously he walked closer, and the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. The filthy woman jumped and twisted toward him with such agility he wondered if her bottom was connected permanently to the ground. Wide blue eyes stared at him, glowing against the soot covering her face. A gasp tore from her throat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt arched a brow.<i> Strange woman.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He swept his gaze over the boy’s clothes she wore, to her unruly dirty hair, back to her wide eyes. Her lips parted as her attention moved over him from the top of his Stetson to his dusty boots.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss? Are you all right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She blinked a couple times, her fingers threading through the matted locks, or at least attempting to run through her hair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, good grief!” She buried her dirty face in her hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The agonized moans coming from her had Wyatt moving to her side in three strides. Kneeling next to her, he placed his hand on her shoulder with gentle care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once again, she jumped and pulled away. Her expression turned from sadness to embarrassment within moments. She continued staring at him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you hurt?” he inquired again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No.” Her voice squeaked. She stood and brushed the dirt off her boy’s pants. The trousers hugged her legs like a coat of paint. The shirt unbuttoned at her throat displayed a lot more skin than he thought proper. He rose to full height, realizing he stood a good head taller.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She chuckled, although no humor laced her tone. “The only thing hurt is my pride.” Another swipe of her hand down her clothes then over her hair removed some of the soot, showing her hair color was, in fact, blonde. She lifted her gaze and looked at him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You certainly picked the opportune moment to make a grand appearance into Topeka<i>,</i> Wyatt Donovan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He narrowed his eyes, studying her closely. Her voice sounded slightly familiar. He stood inside the barn behind the doctor’s office that he’d assumed belonged to James’ family, which meant this slip of a girl could only be… <i>Tarnation!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Josie? Is that you?” He moved closer, trying to see beneath her soot-caked face. When his fingers touched her cheek, she slapped his hand away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Of course it’s me, you fool. Who else would it be?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The humor of the situation tugged his lips into a smile. Josette Allen. The little scamp who’d followed him around like a lost puppy when he and James were young men now stood before him looking… well, she looked the same as she had when he and James enlisted in the war. Granted, her body fit the boys’ clothes much better, but her unkempt blonde hair and snippy attitude hadn’t changed a bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, I must admit, I’m shocked to see you looking like… um, this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She rolled her eyes. “I’m certain you are.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. “Runt, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A scowl creased her face. “I hated that name as a girl, and I especially hate it now, since I am obviously not a runt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt threw back his head and laughed harder. She stomped her foot, causing ash to fly from her clothes. The charred scent burned his nostrils and he choked. “Darlin’ you mustn’t move around too much like that. You might cause someone to stop breathing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“<i>Darlin’</i>? When have I ever been your darling?” She shook her head and walked to the odd-looking machine. She crouched and pulled switches. By now, the device had stopped its ruckus and only a whisper of smoke rose from the metal beast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s that?” He walked next to her and studied the contraption with more buttons and pulleys than he could count. “You’re not still trying to invent things, are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She tilted her head and looked at him, wide azure eyes aglow. “You remembered?” A bubble of delighted laughter came from her. “I didn’t think you cared what I did back in those days.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I didn’t care.” He affirmed with a shrug and squatted to her level. “Except for the time you burnt my brother’s shed down. Or the time you almost blew up the Miller’s cat. Or the time—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Point taken.” A filthy hand fluttered dismissively through the air though her eyes narrowed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He winked, playfully nudging her shoulder with his. “I see you’re still making things that don’t work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Josie huffed. “I’ll have you know I have made many things that work, and as you can see, I’m trying to make this one cooperate with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He arched an eyebrow. “Really? So, what is this machine supposed to do? Substitute the hearth and chimney someday?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Growling, she rose as her eyes turned a dark blue. She planted her hands on her hips as her chest heaved a quick rhythm. He stood as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ha, ha. Very funny, Wyatt. You’ll eat your words when this machine is a daily fixture in homes everywhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“As the fireplace?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“As a rug cleaner – oh, never mind.” Her lips pinched in a thin line. “Mark my words, Wyatt Donovan. You and every person in this town will apologize to me one day when I invent something people will be dying to get their hands on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Mischievously, he glanced back at the machine and scratched his head. “<i>Dying</i>, huh? Doesn’t look like much of a casket to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Josie threw her hands in the air and released another growl. She turned back to her contraption.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt grinned. Goading Josie never got old. He’d teased her when she was younger, and he found it just as much fun now. “Tell me, Runt, why didn’t your neighbors come to help you when that <i>thing</i> let out Indian smoke signals large enough to be seen clear to Texas?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Mr. Donovan, would you be so kind as to leave now? I have everything under control.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chuckling, he turned back to the opened barn door but stopped before taking another step. “One more thing before I go,” he said over his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She turned her head and met his stare. “What? You have another insult to fling at me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No. I just wondered where I could find your brother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She flipped her hand and shrugged, turning back toward the machine. “More than likely, you’ll find James in the saloon. Topeka has three of them now. Your guess is as good as mine which one he’ll visit today.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>A saloon? At this time of day?</i> It was barely one o’clock in the afternoon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Thank you kindly, Runt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Just as he reached the door, she kicked the machine and grumbled. Biting his tongue, he dared not laugh or comment on her unladylike language. No doubt she’d gotten her patience from James.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Wyatt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He turned back to Josie. She sat on the ground with her legs folded beneath her but kept her eyes averted toward the ceiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m glad to see you here,” she whispered. “James really needs a friend like you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His heart softened. “Thanks, Runt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Another groan tore from her throat as she shook her head. He’d always been able to get her bloomers in an uproar with that nickname. Funny, because it was more enjoyable now than before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Strange how time changed things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt found himself genuinely grinning as he walked toward the saloon. <i>Silver Dollar</i> <i>Saloon </i>had been in town since he was a boy. His father and his chums had left that place drunker than a skunk. Wyatt lost his grin. He hadn’t approved of his father’s drinking even when he was a young boy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Shaking his head, he pushed the memory aside. No use in thinking of the past now. It would only bring heartbreak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
From behind the saloon, another commotion started, but nothing like the explosion that Josie had made. Instead, a woman’s wailing and men’s shouts pulled his attention to the alleyway. This time, people ran to see what had happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Get the marshal,” a man screeched. “There’s been another killing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Dread clutched at Wyatt’s heart and churned his stomach. He’d picked the right day to come to town since this was the very reason he’d volunteered to assist the town marshal in Topeka<i>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He hurried through the alleyway toward the crowd at the wooded area behind the saloon. Two women stood crying into their hands, and four men knelt around a person lying between the trees – still as could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Excuse me.” Wyatt pushed people aside. “I’m a Texas Ranger. I’m here to help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The men lifted their heads and looked at him as they moved aside. When Wyatt strode closer, death’s foul stench hung in the air.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The young woman – who probably wasn’t much older than twenty – wore a wrinkled nightdress and was somewhat wrapped in a white bed sheet. Her lips were blue, but her face, neck, and arms were white, making the blonde hair framing her face stand out more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Bile rose in his throat, and he gritted his teeth to keep it down. It was never easy to look at death no matter how the person left this world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As he knelt beside her, he assessed the area carefully, checking for any signs of blood or a weapon. “Who found her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I did,” whispered the young man kneeling by her head. “She disappeared last night. I never thought…” He sobbed and placed his fisted hand to his mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Has she been moved since you found her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Wyatt studied her closer, mainly her hands. Her nails were dirty, which struck him as odd since it appeared as she kept herself clean. He glanced on the ground around her, hoping to see anything that might indicate how she died. But the area was also clean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He lifted his gaze to the young man. Brown curly hair blew over his eyes as the wind teased each strand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you related to the deceased?” Wyatt asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The man swiped the hair away from his face. “We were engaged.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Does her family know yet?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The man shook his head. “No, but I’ll go fetch them now.” Tenderly, he lifted the dead girl’s hand and placed a kiss on her fingers. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pulled away and stood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Emotion clogged Wyatt’s throat. He knew how this man felt. Wyatt wasn’t the first man to have his heart ripped from his chest and chopped into tiny pieces, and he wouldn’t be the last man to mourn for a loved one, either. The pain was as strong today as it had been when he’d read Dr. Allen’s letter almost thirteen years ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
What had possibly made Wyatt agree to help the town marshal find the killer? He knew the dangers of opening old wounds. But he needed to know how Marjorie died, and to make the person responsible for killing her, finally pay.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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Purchase link - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07L7Z6QWJ">https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07L7Z6QWJ</a><br />
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<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-36447929317505826602018-12-04T19:03:00.001-07:002018-12-04T19:03:37.383-07:00Welcome Sara Fitzgerald!I've known Sara for years, and I'm so excited about her new Christmas story!<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b>CONTEST!! </b> Leave your name and email in the comments and Sara will pick a winner and give away a copy of her book.</span><br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1W-K1II9a8CsNEtbJz0QPgeYHn23Nc-SS_jxWma2S_l9e_wnOo4GOPu_sDZdGdr7mKyG-qn8FLQObiiU5X1vg0-UyLGTHixNhVp7ZHmpT4B-uMnMLFh_44VvuhGpdk_9TFNROjoxsTSjm/s400/51Z0YIQNaYL.jpg" width="266" /></div>
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Ann is two-years-old and was recently diagnosed with autism. Her parents are desperate to help her. Ann shows great promise. However, she needs early intervention at an expensive preschool. Going to school could give Ann the life her parents always dreamed of for her. But paying for the school would take a miracle, and this Christmas season, miracles seem to be in short supply.<br />
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Amazon link - <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HYPSM9G/">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HYPSM9G/</a></span><br />
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Excerpt:<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Carol eyes flickered up. “I guess it runs in the family.”
Bill glared at his wife. “I’m here.”
He stared at Kate. Nate gently put his arm around Kate’s shoulders. Things had always been tense between Bill and Kate. Ever since they were kids. Beth said it was like mixing vinegar with oil.
Bill loosened his tie. “By the way, Kate, I don’t appreciate all these emails you send me asking for donations to fund research for autism or the ones to contact my representatives to pass the health care bill. Only email me if it is important.”
Kate tensed. How dare her brother act so cold and callous about Ann and the thousands of other children with autism? “I’m sorry that my daughter having autism is such a bother to you.” She took her coat and Ann’s off the coat rack. “Nate we should leave.”
Beth frantically shook her head. “No, please, stay.”
Carol pasted on a bright smile. “Besides, we don’t know if little Ann really does have autism.”
Tears burned in Kate’s eyes. She didn’t know which comments were more hurtful, Bill’s or Carol’s.
“Actually, Carol, we do know. The top experts at the University confirmed it a few weeks ago. We must have forgotten to tell you.”
Nate forced a smile. “Kate, why don’t we take a quick walk? The fresh air will do us good. Ann is with Grandpa.”
Kate placed Ann’s coat back. Nate was right. She needed to cool down before she said or did something she could never take back. “Okay.” She quickly put her coat on.
Beth smiled. “Take as long as you need, Sweetheart.”
Kate hugged her mother. She didn’t know what she’d do without her. She couldn’t have asked for a better mom or dad. Maybe a better brother. Bill obviously didn’t care about Kate or her daughter. He would have never said those hateful, hurtful words otherwise.
FIND SARA:
Website - <a href="https://www.sarafitzgeraldbooks.com/">https://www.sarafitzgeraldbooks.com/</a>
Amazon author page - </span><span style="background-color: white;"><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Famazon.com%2Fauthor%2Fsarafitzgerald%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3-8LXG1Bc_IybDtp4LvgFWKnPaO5o3uo_XHTCreaS_NG5FStBN6TwR2EI&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="http://amazon.com/author/sarafitzgerald" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">amazon.com/author/sarafitzgerald</a><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Just What the Doctor Ordered: </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" href="https://amzn.to/2P1xFqy" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">https://amzn.to/2P1xFqy</a>
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Mine for Keeps: </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2r1DIBM%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3_43korSUV262Ez02E9UX1AO4g7AE3UGTwPhBGBhGTUKYGBksIQb-zsA0&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2r1DIBM" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">https://amzn.to/2r1DIBM</a>
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Darkness Within </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2OVF9vj%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR0Qy8YalCOljm4Z60gQP9Md_r5_SCOSlyBXzDZhRZZfBrTubmQoBdMt00Q&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2OVF9vj" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; 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widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Magic Within </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2zoxZLb%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR0JuRGfLc02CMMN0U0GMOYJ3MBuR_XrEUudTimdXh-AKXHWu351EaZnNrs&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2zoxZLb" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; 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orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Anything for Charity </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2QkVkH8%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR20KRl1RxwqIjBPI9RanYkQ0V91YfLHVXTDiaRMtWB1muQkddEiXmsqop4&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2QkVkH8" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">https://amzn.to/2QkVkH8</a><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Yesterday's Wish: </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2FF09qT%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3oddvM5-CyAAIdb2qMsHkpnkTAZaXfjN7Qw432BjKPKTEJFNnzD5-3_Ns&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2FF09qT" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">https://amzn.to/2FF09qT</a><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Saving Savanna: </span><a data-lynx-mode="hover" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2Sa6yeP%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3oddvM5-CyAAIdb2qMsHkpnkTAZaXfjN7Qw432BjKPKTEJFNnzD5-3_Ns&h=AT18wBKGFks_4Q_PMb9rXg1kr6awXj8P-HFKE3O_b3ZGC4vscm-q2ng2ec8mmP14pbsAs9c6rTonIV6lySOwFh8-_TVOXfFORNX9_suOu9ad8MscXpx2o12NmGkMpOLsM4U" href="https://amzn.to/2Sa6yeP" rel="nofollow noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">https://amzn.to/2Sa6yeP</a>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6zdh7LTmmTsQyAUoUja9BTS5lAUFJeiktBZYuWCgcT79ddZMkCHfjbfUIpt7C33Yox44ZRjcIMr1VcIZoiRo-D908yt1nHBEN9TmpK_ZGw2I25g37T19WRsvgUoGSuBWFt-uJaxPmb9_/s1600/61PkEzkXrAL._US230_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="230" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6zdh7LTmmTsQyAUoUja9BTS5lAUFJeiktBZYuWCgcT79ddZMkCHfjbfUIpt7C33Yox44ZRjcIMr1VcIZoiRo-D908yt1nHBEN9TmpK_ZGw2I25g37T19WRsvgUoGSuBWFt-uJaxPmb9_/s200/61PkEzkXrAL._US230_.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "Helvetica Neue","Segoe UI",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Sara Fitzgerald has a daughter with autism and was involved in getting the autism health bill passed. Sara was named Writer of the Year by the League of Utah Writers. She is the author of the Christmas Story, Saving Savanna. <br /><br />She lives with her husband and daughter in the Rocky Mountains. She enjoys spending time with her family.</span></span></span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-32217759706563901162018-11-28T10:37:00.000-07:002018-11-28T10:37:17.150-07:00Excerpt - An Agent for CecilyI can't wait for December 7th. My next release, a historical romance that's part of the multi-author series "The Pinkerton Matchmaker" - will be released. I've sent the story out to my advanced readers, and already they're letting me know how much they love this story and they 'can't put it down'. I love it when readers tell me that!!<br />
<br />
So here's a little teaser from my upcoming story!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhRDQQSOTyg_62DoB5pnbyeN0zWc0qV-kqI8X2Lq3YpL_aTQ0HfTZ29W-jUY1kkANnMKPKVKFx-KmSMf4fQhR7QnP74IBSfVFR9zJ28G2CMVG-pXA3VsGT6uQR1xKD6gaH5PP9JIgPHx_/s1600/an+agent+for++cecily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhRDQQSOTyg_62DoB5pnbyeN0zWc0qV-kqI8X2Lq3YpL_aTQ0HfTZ29W-jUY1kkANnMKPKVKFx-KmSMf4fQhR7QnP74IBSfVFR9zJ28G2CMVG-pXA3VsGT6uQR1xKD6gaH5PP9JIgPHx_/s400/an+agent+for++cecily.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">There’s
only one way to escape Cecily Sheldon’s insane family – take on someone else’s
identity. Along with this new identity comes a new job. Of course, to become a
Pinkerton Agent, she must marry a male agent who will train her. Now she needs
to keep her true identity hidden from Broderick Tanner for fear he’ll arrest
her along with her father and brothers. Perhaps living a double life wasn’t a
good choice after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Excerpt:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Cecily entered
the Pinkerton Agency Office, and noticed several other ladies waiting in the
lobby. They appeared as nervous as she was. And thankfully, none of them were
dressed for a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>wedding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Mr. Gordon’s secretary,
Marianne, moved from one woman to the other, whispering something in their ear
and giving them a reassuring hug. When the woman reached Cecily, she smiled and
squeezed Cecily’s hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You are
breathtaking, Miss Livingston,” Marianne said. Her bright eyes twinkled like
emeralds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It surprised
Cecily how young Marianne looked. The woman was about the same height as
Cecily, and her brownish-red hair made her porcelain skin even lovelier.
Marianne’s smile even comforted Cecily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“There’s no
need to worry. Mr. Gordon has teamed you up with one of Pinkerton’s finest
agents. He’s a kind man and will treat you well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Cecily didn’t
know how to reply, only because she wondered if Marianne told this to all the
other women. It didn’t ease Cecily’s anxiety, but it didn’t matter. She was
determined to make this her new life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Suddenly, the
group of women moved. Another door had been opened and they were ushered into a
spacious area. Several handsome men stood against the wall. Most of them wore
dour expressions. Cecily suspected they were not thrilled about having to
marry, just as the women weren’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It surprised
Cecily to see the room was decorated nicely with flowers and ribbons. A long
table stood on one side with a white tablecloth and a line of cakes on top. She
also noticed a tray of meats and cheeses. Marianne must have fixed this up to
make the women agents feel more comfortable about their wedding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Mr. Gordon
stood at the head of the room. Once everyone was quiet, he started reading
names, pairing the couples together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Shifting from
one fancy boot to the other, Cecily wrung her hands against her middle, waiting
for her name to be called.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Miss Cecily
Livingston, and Mr. Broderick Tanner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The beat of her
heart quickened. She was thankful that she had instructed Mr. Gordon to use her
name instead of Ruth’s. As she took her first steps toward her new husband, something
in the back of her memory caused her to pause. She’d heard his name before…
somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">On shaky legs,
she moved to the front of the room alongside the other couples. Her partner walked
toward her, his gaze skimming over her attire. She also looked him over from
the top of his sandy brown hair, down his handsome face, broad shoulders and
wide chest, admiring the way he looked in his dark gray suit jacket and
trousers, black waistcoat over a white shirt, and his necktie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When he stopped
beside her, she realized how tall he was, and she had to tilt her head back to
look into his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He offered a
polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Livingston.” He bowed slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She curtsied.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">That name!</span></i><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> Where had she heard
it before? But it was more than just his name. He looked so familiar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As they stood
side-by-side, she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, assessing his
face, slower this time. He didn’t meet her gaze, for which she was relieved.
But until she figured out how she knew him, it would drive her mad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Mr. Tanner’s
attention finally landed on Cecily, and he caught her gawking at him. This
time, he looked at her differently… as if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he
</i>recognized her, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Forgive me,
Miss Livingston, but have we met before?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Her memory
finally opened and her heart made a panicked leap in her chest. They had met!
He was the lawman who came to her house in January, looking for her father. He
was the lawman she’d lied to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Inwardly, she
groaned. Had she told him her real name four months ago? Although she couldn’t
remember their conversation word-for-word, she was sure she hadn’t told him her
name, just the names of her mother’s parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Cecily had been
filthy that morning. Soot had covered her from her head to her feet. Her hair
had been ratted and in disarray, and she probably looked like she didn’t own a
brush. She’d worn an ill-fitting dress that she had sewn together from dresses which
didn’t fit her any longer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So what part of
her had he recognized now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She forced
herself to breathe slower, trying not to appear too rattled by his question. “No,
Mr. Tanner. I think I would remember meeting someone so blindly attractive.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Her mind
stuttered to a halt. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What did I just say?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She’d heard her
father and brothers flirt so many times, the words just slipped out of her
mouth. If there was a hole big enough to fit her, she’d climb in it right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Mr. Tanner’s
eyes widened. His mouth started to pull into a grin, but seconds later, it
turned back into a scowl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Um… Thank you,
Miss Livingston.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Heat rushed to
her face and she turned toward Mr. Gordon. That was an awkward moment. Cecily
surmised that Mr. Tanner probably thought she was a brazen woman. She was far
from it. Then again, she wasn’t a Sheldon any longer. Perhaps living as Ruth
Livingston would allow Cecily to act as she’d always wanted but hadn’t dared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
possibilities were endless… and exciting. She couldn’t wait to experience this
whole new life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-43142950243262855852018-11-19T10:08:00.003-07:002018-11-19T10:08:51.474-07:00NEW RELEASE - Second Billionaire Romance I'm so excited to have book #2 in my clean billionaire romance series available for purchase. I love these two characters. There's a little humor, a little suspense and action, and a LOT of romance...<br />
<br />
FREE on Kindle Unlimited.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfa5bcmk2zeEItYd0nAdNQ8bD4nyjpMec5ZGakPesuAAc1eYDK_InP1H3XJZ_S47I9WVBkiLrOX3TijVW34FPwUVuUahvvAmmtibHGbsMis2HaIVFpxQQ8RtyvFzQ2k547Y-Evy0ayHYr/s1600/TheMissingBillionaire_Mobi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="825" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfa5bcmk2zeEItYd0nAdNQ8bD4nyjpMec5ZGakPesuAAc1eYDK_InP1H3XJZ_S47I9WVBkiLrOX3TijVW34FPwUVuUahvvAmmtibHGbsMis2HaIVFpxQQ8RtyvFzQ2k547Y-Evy0ayHYr/s400/TheMissingBillionaire_Mobi.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Have you stared dreamily
at the mouth-watering book cover long enough? Well, now it’s time to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">buy</i> the book and read this hunk’s story… <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Missing-Billionaire-Billionaires-Romance-Tycoons-ebook/dp/B07HWRPCX9/">https://www.amazon.com/Missing-Billionaire-Billionaires-Romance-Tycoons-ebook/dp/B07HWRPCX9/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Zack Greyson was in the
right place at the wrong time. Now he’s the FBI’s key witness in a human
trafficking case against a U.S. Senator, and the senator’s henchmen are out to
kill him. The FBI places Zack in protective custody and assures him they’ve
sent their best agent to guard him… Or is Agent Whitney Lawson their <em>worst </em>agent?
Because of her, Zack is discovered and they are both forced into hiding. With
stakes running high in a life or death race to the trial, Zack and Whitney find
their passions racing as well. Zack knows that one way or another he’s destined
for entrapment… he just hopes it’s Whitney’s and not the wrong end of a bullet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
**Chapter One**<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So,
she botched up an assignment. It hadn’t hurt anyone. Not really. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To err is human,</i> right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not
according to the FBI.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Agent
Whitney Lawson tightened her fingers around the steering wheel as she drove
slowly through John F. Kennedy International airport’s parking lot. She wasn’t
here to catch a perp or even a suspect. Oh, no! That kind of assignment was way
above her now. Two weeks ago she would have been undercover, or on a stakeout,
or making arrests. Those were the important assignments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">But
now… she was a babysitter. Seriously!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Although
Zack Greyson was one of the country’s wealthiest men – according to a popular
magazine – he wasn’t exactly a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby</i>. Unless
you were a love-crazy stalker and sighed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby-oh-baby,
where have you been all my life </i>when looking at his picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Because
Whitney messed up on an assignment two weeks ago, her boss forced her to play
guard-dog to a billionaire. Zack was the key witness to the trial-of-the-year
in New York City and was supposed to be in hiding. Senator Sterling had been
arrested for conspiracy to commit murder, for fraud, and for running a human
trafficking ring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zack
Greyson’s association with the senator had been ongoing for six years until
Zack accidentally observed the senator commit two out of three of these
charges. Zack was now in danger. The FBI had wanted the billionaire to enter
their Witness Protection Program, but Zack had declined, stating he could hide
just fine without having the FBI run his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
rolled her eyes. Just because the man had loads of money didn’t make him the
Almighty and untouchable. The FBI suspected that the senator had put a hitman
on his payroll, and her unit worried that Zack might wind up dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She’d
fought like crazy not to get this assignment, but obviously, had lost. It was
now up to her to watch over Zack Greyson and make sure he was hiding well
enough. But he wasn’t. If she could find him each time he moved locations, she
was sure the hitman could find him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">A
movement from a parked truck caught her attention. She slowed her black SUV,
watching carefully as the man exited his new Chevy truck. He reached into the
uncovered bed of the vehicle and grasped a forest green wheelie suitcase.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
popular celebrities’ magazines always used three words to describe him whenever
they talked about Zack Greyson: tall, brawny, and gorgeous. She had her own way
to describe him: arrogant, built-like-an-ox, and too conspicuous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
someone who was trying to stay hidden from the senator’s hitman, the
billionaire failed miserably. He could have at least colored his hair or worn
secondhand clothes instead of designer brands. But Zack’s dark brown hair was
still shoulder-length, he wore his usual classy, button-up long-sleeved shirts
that somehow showed off his muscles – and drove top-of-the-line,
brand-spanking-new vehicles. He grabbed a black leather jacket off the seat of
his truck and shrugged it on before heading toward the terminal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Grumbling,
she circled back around the lot, hoping to find a parking stall. She had to
stop him from getting on the airplane. Hopefully, between now and just before
he checked in, she’d think of something clever. There was no way she could keep
an eye on him if he left New York City.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
found a parking place and scrambled out of the SUV as not to lose Zack. She
probably looked suspicious by not having luggage, but she couldn’t worry about
that right now. Her mind scrambled for a way to convince him that leaving the
city was a bad thing right now, and that he really needed the FBI’s help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Throngs
of people crowded the terminal. She groaned. Finding him would be harder now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Skimming
her gaze around the different sections of the terminal, she noticed many loved
ones saying good-bye to their families. Couples embraced and kissed before one
of them left to enter the security section.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Because
Zack had a lot of money, he’d probably checked in online, which meant he’d be
in line to check in his baggage. Yes! This was what he’d be doing right now,
she just knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
pushed past people on her way to the baggage check-in desk. Thankfully, a long
line of people stood waiting. And, standing taller than anyone was Zack
Greyson.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
breathed easier as relief washed over her. But what should she do now? Would
walking up to him and flashing her badge be the key to convincing him not to
leave?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh,
Tommy,” a woman nearby wailed as she threw her arms around the man in his
twenties who stood in line for the security check station. “I can’t believe
you’re really leaving.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Cami,
please don’t cry.” He kissed her briefly on the mouth. “I’ll be back to get
you. I just need to secure a job and find us a place to live, first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
curly-haired blonde woman nodded. Her make-up smeared down her cheeks from her
tears. “Okay. I’ll miss you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He
gave her one last hug before moving into the line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
rolled her eyes. She’d bet twenty-bucks that Tommy never returned for his
girlfriend. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Men! </i>She would never
understand them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Suddenly,
an idea struck her, and she sucked in a quick breath. Dare she do something so
obnoxiously… stupid? But, she was desperate. She couldn’t botch another FBI
assignment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
hurried toward Zack, trying to psyche herself up for the ridiculous play-acting
she was about to perform. Three feet away from Zack, she let out a cry and
screamed his name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Several
people standing in line jumped and swung their gazes toward her. Zack looked
over his shoulder, and when he saw her, his eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if
he’d remember her from when her unit had talked with him two months ago, but
she kept on with her performance, regardless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh,
Zack,” she sobbed and launched herself against him, wrapping her arms around
his neck. She was taller than most of the women in her office, but she still
had to raise up on tippy-toes in order to get in a good hug this way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“What…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“How
could you leave me like this?” she said quickly, not wanting anyone to know
that she wasn’t who she proclaimed to be. “I’m sorry about our fight, Zack.
I’ll do anything you want, just don’t go. Stay and we’ll work this out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
gaze narrowed on her, and his mouth twisted in a humorous grin. “You’ll do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
didn’t dare voice her hardened thoughts right now because of his reaction. “Anything.”
She pressed her check against his – at least she tried to – and whispered, “we
need to talk away from the crowd.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Slowly,
his arms wrapped around her waist as he brushed his lips over her ear. She
wasn’t sure she liked how close their bodies were now… or the fact that he’d
made goosebumps rise on her neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Why
are you doing this?” he asked in a low voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
withdrew slightly. “Please, Zack. Tell me you’ll stay. I can’t live without
you.” When she hugged him again, she said softly, “I don’t want to draw too
much attention, so please do as I say. We need to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Once
again, he lifted his head and peered down at her. This time, his gaze wandered
over her face slowly as if he was trying to recognize her. There was a spark of
interest in his teasing gaze, and she knew he’d figure out who she was
eventually.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Darling,
you know I have to leave,” he said grinning widely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
liked that he was following along, however, things were going the exact
opposite of how she’d envisioned. This was not fun and games, so why was he
playing like it was?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Please,
Zack…” The tone of her voice became edgier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Tenderly,
he cupped the side of her face. “Tell me you love me. Tell me I’m the only man
for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whitney
clenched her teeth. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s got to be
kidding! </i>She wasn’t about to say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Murmurs
from the people behind her encouraged her to say those three magical words.
What had she gotten herself into this time? As much as she detested what was
happening, she reminded herself that she did this for the badge. She was a
great FBI agent, and she would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>mess
up another assignment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Forcing
herself to grin, she tried to get into character again. It was more difficult
now than it had been a few moments ago. “I… love you, Zack. You are the only
man for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
expression relaxed, which made his brown eyes twinkle. “I love you too,
darling.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Before
she knew what he was doing – or could stop him – he lowered his mouth to hers.
The second their lips touched, the small crowd around them cheered. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Good grief!</i> Was this really happening?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zack’s
mouth moved slowly over her so gently, it took her breath away. Her heartbeat
quickened and her legs suddenly grew weak. His strong arms tightened around her
waist, holding her intimately against his body, and all she could do was let
him kiss her. But she just couldn’t allow herself to get into the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He
broke the kiss, and she sighed with relief. But when his mouth moved to her
ear, his warm breath on her neck made her shiver with delight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You
started this, lady, so you’d better play along before our fans figure out the
truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Inwardly,
she groaned. He couldn’t be serious… Yet, his mouth returned to hers and their
kiss continued. Gads, he was really going to make her do this, wasn’t he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is for the
job!</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">
She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him. In her mind she tried to
imagine the most desirable man she’d ever met, but all she could picture was
Zack’s face and his dreamy, twinkling brown eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
large hands slid over her back, caressing softly and bringing heat into her
body until she relaxed. Against her better judgement, she participated in the
bold kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">What
had started out to be a simple kiss, turned urgent. The velvety heat from his
tongue caressing hers in the most inappropriate way made her mind whirl. In
fact, she felt as if she floated in his arms. The sounds of cheering slowly
diminished, and all she could hear was the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Just
as she started to enjoy the kiss, Zack slowed down the urgency until only soft
pecks were on her lips. He withdrew and stared deeply into her eyes. Dang, he
was gorgeous. The phrase <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby-oh-baby,
where have you been all my life</i> popped into her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Snap out of it,
Lawson!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Blinking
herself to awareness, she glanced around, preparing to meet the curious gazes
of the crowd. But… they were not in line any longer. They were against a side
wall in the corner. How did they get here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Hey,”
he said sweetly. “Have you returned from that cloud you were just floating on,
yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anger
grew inside of her, hot and unyielding. How she’d like to slap his arrogant
face for making that comment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
huffed and shoved him away. The warmth she’d experienced being so close to him
had disappeared, making her feel empty. She calmed her breathing, silently
counting to ten. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zack
continued to look at her wearing a slanted grin on his handsome face. He calmly
folded his arms over his wide chest and tilted his head slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“So,
lady… Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Um,
yes.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m Agent Whitney Lawson with the FBI,
and I’ve been following you for a little while.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zack’s
pretty-boy features darkened with his scowl. “You’ve been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">following </i>me? I specifically told you guys that I didn’t need your
help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
stepped closer, giving him her FBI demeaning glare. “And you, Mr. Greyson, are
the key witness in the trial of the century. You promised us that you were going
to stay hidden, but look where I’ve found you.” She motioned her hand toward
the long lines. “Tell me, what does <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hiding
</i>mean to you? Does it mean you’re out in public where everyone can recognize
you? Because you obviously haven’t done anything to hide your identity.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He
grumbled and pulled out a rolled up magazine that had been in his jacket
pocket. It was one of those popular tabloids. On the front cover in bold
letters was written <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Missing Billionaire</i>,
and had his picture plastered across the cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Apparently,”
he said, “the world thought I was missing or they wouldn’t have published this.
But now after your display a few minutes ago with everyone taking pictures and
videos on their cell phones, I’m quite sure my cover will be blown. No thanks
to an FBI agent, of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
rolled her eyes and tried not to feel embarrassed. Was he right? Would this be
all over the media, now? Inwardly, she groaned. Captain Bott would have her
badge for sure on this mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Unfortunately,
the mistake has been made, so now we just need to fix it.” She grasped the
handle of his wheelie suitcase. “Come on, let’s go out to my SUV so we can talk
in private.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
hand gripped the handle, too. His piercing glare challenged her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Sorry,
lady, this is your mistake, not mine. I’m getting on that plane and flying to
Hawaii for some R and R.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Her
temper turned hotter. “Hmm… sorry, but you’re not. You’re coming with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“And
if I don’t?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Captain Bott is
going to kill me!</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">
“If you don’t, then I’ll arrest you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He
chuckled. “For what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Resisting
an FBI agent, that’s what for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
expression softened slightly and his grin reappeared. “But I didn’t resist you,
Agent Lawson. You were the recipient of my kiss, so I’d think you’d know there
was no resisting at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Heat
flooded her face, and she was sure it was redder then a ripe tomato. She needed
to calm down and talk sensibly to him. That was the only way. Either that or
tell him an enormous lie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Zack,
the truth is… We have reason to believe a hitman knows where you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">He
gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Again? If you remember correctly Agent Lawson, I
was shot two months ago, which was why the FBI thought they had to step in and
help me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Of
course, I remember. But this time is different. He knows… eh, he knows you’re
going to Hawaii. In fact,” she glanced over his shoulder toward the line at the
baggage claim section, “he might be one of those people checking in their
luggage.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“If
the hitman is here, why hasn’t he shot me, yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Seriously?
Out here in the open where everyone could identify him? Yeah, that’s not going
to happen. He’s going to wait until you’re in a quiet spot with very few
witnesses. So the way I see it, you have two choices. You come with me
willingly, or—” she reached behind her and unhooked the handcuffs around her
belt and brought them into view, “I’ll cuff you and take you back <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">un-</i>willingly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zack
sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I’ll go with you, but,” he stepped
closer, bringing his face a half-inch away from hers, “you, or the FBI, owes me
a first-class ticket to Hawaii.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
couldn’t stop the snort coming from her laugh. “Yeah, okay. Like you’re going
to miss a couple hundred dollars from all your billions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Pushing
past him, she led the way out of the terminal. Neither of them spoke as they
neared her SUV, which happened to be closer than his truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“My
truck is just over there,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
nodded. “And we’ll pick it up later.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“No,”
his voice turned sharp, “we’ll pick it up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Just
as she opened her mouth to argue, gunshots popped through the air from out of
nowhere. Her first instinct was to protect Zack. She grasped his arm, and
pulled him down, ducking behind a parked car. She fished in the back of her slacks
to pull out the gun from her holster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Keep
down,” she instructed, and she was relieved Zack did as he was told this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">With
the gun in her hand, she peeked over the edge of the car. Whoever was shooting
at them was hiding really well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
glanced toward her SUV. Only two vehicles away. They could get there. She’d
make sure they arrived safely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys, and then clicked the remote to
unlock the doors. “On the count of three,” she said in a quiet voice, “we’re
going to run to that black SUV. Got it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
counted it out, and together they darted toward the SUV. More gunfire came from
one direction, but thankfully, they made it to the vehicle and hopped inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">As
quickly as she could, she started the car and took off. Seconds later, a white
truck came into view, barreling toward them, picking up speed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Her
heart sank. Out here in the airport parking, where were they going to hide?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-17963614460762268062018-10-24T03:00:00.000-06:002018-10-23T18:55:28.945-06:00NEW RELEASE!!I'm so excited to introduce my new billionaire series - The Tycoons. Book #1, THE BILLIONAIRE'S PURSUIT will be 99 cents for a limited time, so grab you copy NOW!<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
When Nicole
Adkins tumbles into billionaire Mick Remington’s lap and looks into his
smoldering eyes, she all but stops breathing. He looks like the sexy model on
the front of a romance novel cover. Unfortunately, she’s heard about his brazen
reputation with women and she’s not about to let herself be taken in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole’s
grandfather is nearing his last days on earth, and his poor health has taken
its toll on the family business – her inheritance. But when Mick Remington
shows up in town, she fears the worst. He’s here to take control of her
grandfather’s business. The company is ripe for a takeover, and Nicole isn’t
about to let that happen no matter how sweet and charming Mick pretends to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mick
claims to want to help, but with her entire future on the line, Nicole doesn’t
know whom to trust. As she spends more time with Mick, she begins to fear her
heart may be as at risk as her company.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
CHAPTER ONE<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Finding
the man she’d planned to ruin wasn’t easy. The Country Club’s lounge was packed
with people tonight. Nicole Adkins rolled her eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Great! </i>Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about this after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
shook the negative thoughts out of her head. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would </i>do this. It was the only way, and she was desperate to put a
stop to Mick Remington.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
blinked several times, trying to get her vision adjusted to the room’s dim
lighting. It was imperative that she find her man. Well, Mick Remington wasn’t
exactly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>man, but he was the only
man she was after tonight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She glanced
down at her black, short-sleeve mini-dress with a keyhole neckline collar that
hugged her petite figure. With a groan, she tugged at the hem of her dress that
ended three-inches above her knee. Her grandfather had purchased this dress for
her five years ago, but she’d never had the occasion to wear it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Tonight
was certainly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>the right occasion,
either, but wearing something so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daring</i>
would get Mick Remington’s attention. She released a tiny groan. If her father
could see her now, he’d wonder where he’d gone wrong. Her father <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i> raised her with high standards, it
just so happened that this evening she’d have to put some of her religious
beliefs on hold so she could save her inheritance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If only there was another way.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Thanks
to the tabloids, Nicole knew Mick Remington dated fancy-dressed, beautiful women.
Although Nicole didn’t consider herself beautiful, she thought this expensive
dress might get his attention. Tonight it was important to convince him to
spend some time with her, if only for a few hours or however long it took to
get information that she could use against him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
just prayed her angel father wouldn’t judge her right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
If
only her friend hadn’t forced Nicole to go along with this outrageous plan. If
it was up to her, she’d find a much prettier woman, dress her up like a model,
and make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>charm the billionaire. Growing
up as the pastor’s daughter, Nicole was the exact opposite of enticing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
A few
patrons glanced her way – both male and female. The men’s ogling stares made
her uncomfortable, especially when their female dates elbowed them in the ribs
and shot Nicole a warning glare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Losing
her nerve, Nicole scampered down a shadowed hallway toward the bathrooms and
pressed her back against the wall. With her heartbeat in overdrive, she
tightened the cell phone in her hand and dialed her friend’s number. Her friend
answered immediately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mary,”
Nicole kept her voice low, “I can’t do this. I feel so… cheap.” Her friend’s
fit of laughter was so loud, Nicole pulled the phone away from her ear for a
moment. When the sound died down, Nicole gritted her teeth. “I mean it, Mary.
You picked the wrong woman.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“First
off,” her friend said with a light voice, “you’re definitely not cheap,
especially since you’re wearing a Trina Kurk’s designer dress. And no, I didn’t
pick the wrong woman. You are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfect</i>
for this role.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“But
wearing this dress makes me feel like I could charm the socks off any man who
walks by.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Great,
Nikki. Go with that and use it to your advantage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
grumbled underneath her breath. “But this isn’t me. I don’t wear fancy clothes
like I’m going to one of Paris Hilton’s parties. I’m more comfortable in a pair
of shorts and a tee-shirt and flip-flops.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Nikki,
don’t worry about what you’re wearing. Keep in mind that you’re a woman on a
mission. You must stay focused.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Closing
her eyes, she inhaled deeply and slowly. “Yes, I’m on a mission, but I don’t
want <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that man</i> to think I’m like most
women with loose morals who regularly hits on him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re
not,” Mary reasoned. “All you’re trying to do is catch his eye and make him
want to date you. Just keep in mind that you should be nice to him until after
you’ve found the information we’re looking for.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,
I hope we can, too.” Frowning, Nicole opened her eyes and sighed. Mick
Remington was in town to buy out her grandfather’s company… a company that was
going to be hers one day. She couldn’t let Remington take this away from her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Nikki?
Are his associates still with him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“I
don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet.” Nicole moved out of the hall and back into
the main lounge. She scanned the bar before studying the booths. “Remind me
what he looks like again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Seriously,
Nikki? Can’t you remember seeing him on that tabloid magazine two months ago?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well,
I think I remember,” Nicole muttered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mick
Remington is probably the hottest guy in the lounge tonight. Six-foot-four,
broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and a trimmed goatee. The article I read
about him mentioned his gray eyes will make any woman drool.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
snorted a laugh. “Well, I can guarantee he won’t make me drool.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
continued searching for the man her friend had described, but she couldn’t find
anyone who fit that description. Mary’s boyfriend had insisted Remington was
here, so she didn’t dare leave just yet. The longer she studied each person in
the room, ease began to settle her nerves. Could she hope he had already left?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“He’s
not here,” she told Mary, trying not to feel relieved that she wouldn’t have to
go through with this after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“No,
he’s there. I just talked to Kent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
stepped into the lounge a little further, continuing to hold the phone to her
ear. Out of the corner of her eye, a handsome man with broad shoulders and dark
brown hair captured her attention as he walked away from the bar and to a
booth, holding a drink. He scooted on the seat and set his drink next to a
folder of papers on the table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crap!</i> Nicole frowned. He was here. “I
think I see him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Is he
still with his associates?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“No.
Remington is by himself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Great!”
Mary’s voice lifted with excitement. “Now make your move, babe. Strut your
stuff in front of him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
rubbed her forehead, but it didn’t relieve the pain knocking against her skull.
“Mary, I don’t—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Stop
it, Nikki. Tell yourself you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can </i>do
this. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">must.</i> Kent is there and
will help you, I promise. As soon as we hang up, I’ll call him to make sure
he’s ready.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
glanced at the four cowboys standing at the bar, flirting with the cute server
girl wearing tight leggings. “I see Kent and his friends. They’re near
Remington’s table.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Perfect.
Give me a minute to call, and then you can make your move.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
clicked off her phone before sliding the cell into her purse. Sucking in a deep
breath, she squared her shoulders. Mary was right. This must be done. It didn’t
matter how underhanded the plan; someone needed to stop this man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Wealthy
businessmen like Mick Remington were parasites. The only reason men like him
were billionaires was because they destroyed people’s lives. She had no other
choice. She must stop him from ruining more people in his pursuit of money and
glory.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mick
Remington had learned from the best. His father had been the destroyer feared
by all large business owners. Whenever they heard Remington was in town, every
business doubled up on their shareholders. Now his son held the destroyer title
since she’d heard the elder Remington was retiring.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
wrung her hands against her waist, mentally going over her checklist. She’d
charm Mick and convince him to tell her about his next business takeover. If
that didn’t work, she’d go against her morals and let him take her to his hotel
room and she’d slip a sleeping pill in his drink. Once he was passed out, she’d
look for information that would help them fight the takeover of Adkins
Dev-Tech, her grandfather’s company. And, if that didn’t work, Mary was ready
with her camera to take pictures of Remington to sell to the tabloids. It was
rumored that Mick hated to have his picture taken without consent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
shivered with anxiety. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Would she even know
what to do at that point? Besides, blackmailing a successful businessman like
Mick Remington could be dangerous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
From
over at the bar, Kent’s phone chirped, and Nicole swung her gaze in his
direction. He pulled it from his pocket and answered it. As Nicole focused on
the four cowboys, Kent’s gaze met hers as he talked to Mary. He gave Nicole a
nod.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Everything
was set just as they’d planned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole’s
heart pounded so hard, it threatened to bruise a rib or two. Maybe, break one. This
was it. It was now or never.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Taking
a deep breath for courage, she ran moist palms over her dress to help dry her skin
faster. She also tried to pull the hem of the dress down to cover more of her
bare legs, but the material wouldn’t budge. On shaky three-inch high-heels, she
headed toward Mick Remington’s table, keeping her focus on the back of his brown
head of hair and wide shoulders.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
With
each step, she clenched her jaw a little tighter. How could she act sweet and
docile toward him when she loathed the very ground he slithered upon? What if
he found her attractive? He’d want to touch her. The very thought of being so
intimate made her stomach roll.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole’s
plan had to succeed. Grandpa James’s disease had grown worse. He had one foot
in the grave, and she would inherit the company after he was gone. But not if
Mick Remington sank his uncaring claws into it first. If <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that man </i>took over, the town’s very existence would be depleted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yeah, no pressure.</i> It wasn’t like
everyone in Maple Springs source of income rested heavily upon her shoulders.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
As she
passed Kent, he laughed out loud and jumped back. He stomped his cowboy-booted
heel directly on her foot. Crying out, she stumbled away from him… and fell
right into Mr. Remington’s lap. The man’s muscular arms wrapped around her
waist as a gush of air escaped his mouth, brushing her cheek. He smelled like
mints – not alcohol. How refreshing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
The
throbbing pain in her foot brought her back to what she was doing on his lap in
the first place. Tears gathered in her eyes from the pain Kent had inflicted
upon her. He knew how small her feet were since he’d teased her about them. Now
she worried he’d broken some bones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Uh—sorry
Miss,” Kent slurred and returned to the bar, chuckling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Tomorrow
she would make him pay dearly for this. But at least she had Remington’s
attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nervously,
she turned and met Remington’s dark stare. Worry etched his handsome expression
at first, but within seconds, kindness replaced it as his gaze practically
caressed every inch of her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
A
sharp breath caught in her throat. This couldn’t possibly be Mick Remington.
From what she’d heard, the man didn’t have an ounce of kindness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
blinked a couple times and focused back on the dream-man still gazing at her
with a look that didn’t fit his reputation. Had she fallen on the wrong person?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Sweeping
her gaze over his features, she double-checked to see if he was really Mick
Remington. He resembled the man Mary had described, but somehow his skin seemed
darker as if he’d just returned from enjoying the sandy beaches of Jamaica. Definitely,
a possibility since Mick constantly traveled all over the world – according to
the tabloids, anyway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m sorry for falling for you… I mean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on</i> you.” Embarrassment heated her face.
Had she really said that? What an idiot she’d been… a very confused idiot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
struggled to move off his lap, but when she put her weight on her injured foot,
the pain intensified. Stumbling, her shoe fell off in the process, and she sank
back to his lap. “I can’t seem to stand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“How
badly are you hurt?” His voice held a hint of concern.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“I
can’t put pressure on my foot. I don’t know… it might be broken.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr.
Remington’s large hand slid down her leg until it hooked over the heel of her
sore foot. His touch was so tender. So warm. Tremors of unexpected delight
danced across her skin. She quickly silenced a traitorous sigh before it exited
her mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Let
me take a look.” He bent, inspecting it closer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
His
hot breath caressed her skin. Goosebumps rose over her body from her neck,
clear down to her toes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
froze. It wasn’t just the pain from her bruise torturing her now, but the way
his gentle fingers brushed over it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
He
straightened. “It’s going to be a nasty bruise, but I don’t think it’s broken.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
forced a smile. “Thanks, but I should be leaving—” She moved to stand again,
but his arms tightened around her waist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“Sweetheart,
you shouldn’t step on your foot now. It’s starting to swell.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Her
heart flipped from the nickname he’d given her. And why was his voice so stimulating
when he said it? The pain must be affecting her hearing, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“But,
I can’t stay on your lap all night.” From the mere idea, her face grew hotter.
“I don’t even know you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“How
about we change that right now?” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m Mick Remington. And
you are…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The woman that’s going to destroy you!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
As
much as she wanted to say those words, the sound of his deep, yet soothing
voice brought odd sensations trickling over her. Her throat turned dry, as did
her mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She
refocused on her mission and licked her parched lips. “I’m Nicole.” She
couldn’t tell him her last name. He’d know exactly who she was related to.
Quickly, she used her mother’s maiden name. “I’m Nicole Stanley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
His
gaze did a quick sweep around the room before landing back on her. “Are you
here alone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m
not supposed to be.” She swallowed hard and began her lie. “But my date stood
me up. I was on my way out the door when I was pushed onto your lap.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
He ran
his hand softly over her knee, stirring the heat inside her up another level.
They were way too close for her comfort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“I
really feel awkward sitting on you like this.” She motioned her head toward the
empty space next to him on the booth’s seat. “Would you mind if I scooted over
there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
He
gave her another devastating grin that lifted the right side of his mouth
higher than the left. Dimples creased in both cheeks. Why did he have to have
such an adorable feature about him? Regardless, she must stay focused on her
goal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
“I
would mind because I think this is very cozy, but I wouldn’t want to make you
uneasy in any way,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Shifting
her on his lap, he slid his hands underneath her legs and eased her onto the
empty space beside him as if she was as light as a feather. He kept her injured
foot propped on his thigh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Nicole
sucked in a breath and heat rushed over every inch of her body. Silently, she
cursed her reaction to this gorgeous man. She prayed she wouldn’t be fighting
him and her traitorous body all night long. There was no way she could endure
that much torture.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<span style="color: red;"><b>WANT TO SEE MY OTHER BILLIONAIRES?</b></span> <a href="https://authormariehiggins.wixsite.com/romance/the-tycoons" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a>Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-40886599376676282902018-10-09T21:33:00.000-06:002018-10-09T21:33:11.102-06:00Speed Date with a book!<br />
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Tonight I spent a couple of hours at the Brigham City Library with 7 other authors. It was a BLAST!! I met some authors I've met before at other author events, and I met one author face-to-face who I've only known online. And... I met a FAN! It was rather exciting!! <br />
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Each of us authors had 5 minutes to talk about our writing careers and our book(s) in order to sell ourselves to those who came to listen. We had a great turnout, too! It was very interesting to listen to the other writers and the stories they wrote and how they created them. If you've never been to an author group like this, it is a MUST! Talk to your local library to see when they're having an event. I promise you'll love it.<br />
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These were all some awesome writers. You'll have to check them out!!<br />
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So I took a few pictures. My battery died before I could take more. Of course, I only had like 1/4 of juice in my cell phone, to begin with... (MY BAD!!)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSjyt2w7iUSsm1_YVq2eBVqL9JM9foG4fOqi3I8I9btJu_PyBpoC4XlSGb-BP8y3NXdnszzgiR3JYAFyhJOjHJ064kWnVAOq0gq1VNuAqoQZa-iOj4jRef7HfQKViCTNc1kZN7NDlfhiD/s1600/43470050_10102481353641144_6587148267648188416_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSjyt2w7iUSsm1_YVq2eBVqL9JM9foG4fOqi3I8I9btJu_PyBpoC4XlSGb-BP8y3NXdnszzgiR3JYAFyhJOjHJ064kWnVAOq0gq1VNuAqoQZa-iOj4jRef7HfQKViCTNc1kZN7NDlfhiD/s640/43470050_10102481353641144_6587148267648188416_n.jpg" width="492" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><br />My phone battery died before I could get a picture with Johnny Worthen, but he took some of us together, so hopefully, he'll share them. <grins><br /><br /></grins></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv138uR_e0nhzWW7THMko3Ls_o2ZMzWVifcQI2GPljvivz2LWh-aHC_F0BTSGfiUITi0QzcHWxRFZrDH_c4oyuLXOqw40lsX3UCu8A7jSNcWM5ZMC8A6u6gatmNi5-_gQrA67KmQQaQnYm/s1600/IMG_20181009_192934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv138uR_e0nhzWW7THMko3Ls_o2ZMzWVifcQI2GPljvivz2LWh-aHC_F0BTSGfiUITi0QzcHWxRFZrDH_c4oyuLXOqw40lsX3UCu8A7jSNcWM5ZMC8A6u6gatmNi5-_gQrA67KmQQaQnYm/s400/IMG_20181009_192934.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the girl with the gray jacket and the ponytail? Yeah, she's my FAN!! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibV2vAuvdd0SDUfI6Ny7MIGCHFec5fPmJE9kwgSlDyHM1pBEs7Qs82_8q4HEecfF4C6rzXRYT8JdgXZQJ_QzEaaV4p__O5dXP0ynOVWSqHJB-AyWQyIpHxJPKy9FV7thHu1qc2X0vBJ1YR/s1600/IMG_20181009_192941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibV2vAuvdd0SDUfI6Ny7MIGCHFec5fPmJE9kwgSlDyHM1pBEs7Qs82_8q4HEecfF4C6rzXRYT8JdgXZQJ_QzEaaV4p__O5dXP0ynOVWSqHJB-AyWQyIpHxJPKy9FV7thHu1qc2X0vBJ1YR/s400/IMG_20181009_192941.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Jenny Flake Rabe who I've known online and we finally met face-to-face!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOEwR7uBBjFRQsy2krGpxvvFwidfNe9jExEk18a1EoHtBf1WF8xonxwfCqbaQ8IQLSf4VQd3GPIMlM-yanrnumRZ2EvAE9JkXNwBZwmrAwG3KvFBGCkOU8E-vEnnMg0rmKvJIaexdRqReS/s1600/IMG_20181009_202812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOEwR7uBBjFRQsy2krGpxvvFwidfNe9jExEk18a1EoHtBf1WF8xonxwfCqbaQ8IQLSf4VQd3GPIMlM-yanrnumRZ2EvAE9JkXNwBZwmrAwG3KvFBGCkOU8E-vEnnMg0rmKvJIaexdRqReS/s400/IMG_20181009_202812.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She read this book to the little kids who were there. What a cute story!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7SvudSWsnkFbgHNWXnxXAE3JUBWkFyXTjI3HBqDvN1ovz9U5xegP0tbopuk8n4QfnNS8m9Y3IwL99Bp5ulbMr0rKwIXYTX_PQ64BFeJgCTMP7576nN6R6qV9xLYrGjLIGEQzKneg2HhX/s1600/IMG_20181009_202841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7SvudSWsnkFbgHNWXnxXAE3JUBWkFyXTjI3HBqDvN1ovz9U5xegP0tbopuk8n4QfnNS8m9Y3IwL99Bp5ulbMr0rKwIXYTX_PQ64BFeJgCTMP7576nN6R6qV9xLYrGjLIGEQzKneg2HhX/s640/IMG_20181009_202841.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, look! That's MEEE! I'd already sold 5 books by this point... lol</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a cute story she's written!! You'll need to check her out!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AlRDDwebUZ1W0PJ6jZJrXKvNyWewdOSWAp_gDd26NtENTLCkQvzN_TsYXgAc0vTBKH7U_b7sWzElqhVh48PDNoptK6BxdGbGnGVvCyoEJOoyGG0fitAVVoNjJixD8yXsMD0kfbP9Rd3s/s1600/IMG_20181009_202021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AlRDDwebUZ1W0PJ6jZJrXKvNyWewdOSWAp_gDd26NtENTLCkQvzN_TsYXgAc0vTBKH7U_b7sWzElqhVh48PDNoptK6BxdGbGnGVvCyoEJOoyGG0fitAVVoNjJixD8yXsMD0kfbP9Rd3s/s400/IMG_20181009_202021.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny Flake Rabe and I finally meeting!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8v9KEDMQOkMLYQd7DntWwYUm12SiCqb09rpaX0WYcHO1e_Y6LI1zkeOvTCjV4eO0FFRrBgXagE9BO90ZES-PzqGIaFHv_8jJ45jWsd1lyvkQLFmRmIa7PJysXjR2jgAV6gL2pRvyBfj1/s1600/IMG_20181009_202024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8v9KEDMQOkMLYQd7DntWwYUm12SiCqb09rpaX0WYcHO1e_Y6LI1zkeOvTCjV4eO0FFRrBgXagE9BO90ZES-PzqGIaFHv_8jJ45jWsd1lyvkQLFmRmIa7PJysXjR2jgAV6gL2pRvyBfj1/s400/IMG_20181009_202024.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny, it was great to finally meet you!</td></tr>
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<br />Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-12004506035387597522018-09-30T16:04:00.000-06:002018-09-30T16:49:46.122-06:00Haunting Secrets - Episode 4Instead of having weekly episodes that don't read very well on my website, I decided to make this book FREE!!<br />
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All you have to do is click on this link. Easy-Peasy... <a href="https://claims.instafreebie.com/free/3O3UomfX">https://claims.instafreebie.com/free/3O3UomfX</a><br />
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ENJOY!<br />
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Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6233380227524416377.post-34039149388131441872018-09-23T15:57:00.000-06:002018-09-23T15:58:10.132-06:00Haunting Secrets Episode 3As promised, here is the next episode for my Paranormal Victorian Romance.<br />
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Victoria’s limbs shook as she stared at the opened door, now empty of the powerful presence that had stood in her room earlier.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Was it a dream, or had her imagination gotten the best of her? She pinched her arm, and then grimaced at the small pain on her skin. No. She was awake, which meant she had talked to someone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The ghost from the East Wing? Not likely. The intruder who’d entered her room not too long ago was not the ghost, but someone trying to frighten her away from the manor, and from discovering secrets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If a servant was behind this, she’d make certain Jonathan had them dismissed immediately. What if the presence had not been one of the staff? Could it have been Mr. Maitland or even Jonathan? And how in heaven’s name did he get into her room? The intruder had left through the door, but he definitely didn’t enter that way. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If she could assure herself this was a servant’s prank, she’d be able to rest more soundly. But why would anyone want her to leave? And why would they tell her she was in danger?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Taking a deep breath, she slowly calmed her quaking body. She’d find out who had the nerve to sneak into her room and nearly scare her to death. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Victoria slid her feet to the floor and into her slippers. She rushed out of the bedroom, pulling on her wrapper. If she remembered correctly, when her night visitor left, he’d turned toward the long hallway heading to the east of the manor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her feet padded on the hardwood floor as she hurried toward what she’d hope would bring her answers. Nothing made sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An echo of mumbling made her pause on the stairs leading to the third floor. A man and woman’s voices floated through the air.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her heart slammed against her ribs. She glanced around the darkened hall for a place to hide. The pounding of footsteps grew closer, and she skirted behind the stairs and flattened against the wall. She held her breath, praying she didn’t make a sound.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A man wearing a dark dressing robe descended the marbled steps and passed close by her. Roderick. Marching next to him, grumbling in distaste was his wife.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You treat me like an unruly child,” he snapped.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bethany’s arms were folded across her bosom, her lips curled up in disdain. “If you’d stop acting like one, I wouldn’t have to scold you so often.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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When they turned the corner of the hallway and walked away from Victoria, she released her breath in a loud gush. The scene had been almost comical, serving to diffuse a bit of her tension.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But she knew something now. Even in the darkness, she could tell Roderick wasn’t the man who’d visited her earlier. His shoulders were not wide enough, and he wasn’t as tall.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was all very strange. Didn’t anyone sleep in this house after midnight?<o:p></o:p></div>
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On shaky legs, she took two steps at a time to the top floor and the servant’s rooms. It looked as if her prankster was indeed someone who worked in the manor. But who?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Inky shadows, longer than seemed natural in the dim light of the hall, stretched in forlorn warning before Victoria. Needing answers, she refused to turn back. The intricately carved mahogany doors marched ahead of her as tall soldiers guiding the way toward the forbidden East Wing. She pressed an ear to each polished frame, stemming the trembling in her hands as she progressed from one lonely door to the next…to the next.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When she reached the end of the hall she frowned. A dead end.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Heaving a sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Whoever played this trick on her would certainly try again. Perhaps she should return to her room and wait for them tomorrow night. She’d be better prepared then.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A draft swept across her feet. With a frown, she glanced at the corner of the hall. Since no windows or doors were nearby, where had the cool air emerged?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Edging her way in that direction, she tapped her toes on the floor. Within seconds, she stood in front of a potted plant. Cautiously, she touched the leaves then reached behind it to the wall. It felt like an ordinary wall. She slid her hand along the wall then stopped. A seam sprouted from the ceiling and extended to the floor. With both hands, she pushed. The wall moved slightly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jumping back, she covered her mouth, stifling a scream.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The East Wing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Her cold palms moistened. Dare she continue? She must. How else would her questions be answered?<o:p></o:p></div>
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From somewhere behind the wall came the howling of a wolf. She sucked in a cry of panic, turned and hurried back to her room. She didn’t stop until she reached her door. Her throat was dry and scratchy. She clicked the lock tight and rushed back into her warm bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Staring at the shadows in the room, she listened for any signs that someone might have followed her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nothing. The room remained silent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She dared not close her eyes. Not yet. Would her night visitor return again this evening? Probably not, but tomorrow was a different day. If she stayed at the manor instead of heeding his warning, she suspected he would indeed visit her again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Recalling the wolf howl, she exhaled. Where had that animal come from? It couldn’t have been a wolf. Perhaps it was a wild dog, but the Maitlands wouldn’t have allowed an animal inside their manor. That chilling cry was like nothing she’d heard before. The sound had tugged at her heart as if he was injured or in pain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She shook off the thought and settled deeper into her bed, forcing herself to relax. Her eyelids grew heavy and cuddling her knees onto her stomach, she curled on her side. She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From outside the night’s sounds crept into her room. The hoot of an owl. The branches scratching against the window with the rhythm of the wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And the howling of a wolf.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She opened her eyes. The animal was now outside. Nothing made sense anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bits of the conversation she had with her maid came back to her. Could there really be a cursed white wolf that roamed the grounds? Could he be looking for another woman to kill tonight?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shivering, she bundled the covers closer around her body. She silently cursed her wayward thoughts. From now on, she would instruct Francine to keep her old wives’ tales to herself. Victoria wouldn’t listen to them any longer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://authormariehiggins.wixsite.com/romance/haunting-secrets-episode-3" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO READ MORE OF THIS EPISODE</a></div>
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<a href="https://mariehiggins84302.blogspot.com/2018/09/haunting-secrets.html" target="_blank">EPISODE 1</a></div>
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<a href="https://mariehiggins84302.blogspot.com/2018/09/haunting-secrets-episode-2.html" target="_blank">EPISODE 2</a></div>
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Marie Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798408733684974308noreply@blogger.com0