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The Winter Man: Silent Night Man\Sutton's Way, by Diana Palmer
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Silent Night Man
What does Millie Evans want for Christmas? To feel safe. Even though her stalker is dead, he arranged for a hit man to kill her. Now the special government agent Millie has loved from afar for years has vowed to protect her. Tony Danzetta moves the prim librarian into his home and guards her 24/7. Dare she dream of keeping Tony, her own silent night man, by her side forever?
Sutton's Way
Wyoming rancher and single father Quinn Sutton is raising a child he knows isn't his own. All the love left in his guarded heart goes to the boy. But when a beautiful city woman is stranded nearby in a blizzard, he rescues her and brings her to Ricochet Ranch. Amanda Callaway has her own secrets and plans to keep her distance. If only she weren't falling for her unlikely hero…
- Sales Rank: #197365 in Books
- Brand: Palmer, Diana
- Published on: 2009-09-29
- Released on: 2009-09-29
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.48" h x 1.14" w x 5.44" l,
- Binding: Hardcover
- 332 pages
- ISBN13: 9780373774142
- Condition: New
- Notes: BRAND NEW FROM PUBLISHER! 100% Satisfaction Guarantee. Tracking provided on most orders. Buy with Confidence! Millions of books sold!
About the Author
The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
At the funeral home the friend of the deceased was a big, richly dressed man who looked like a professional wrestler. He was wearing expensive clothing and a cashmere coat. He had olive skin, black eyes and wavy black hair that he wore in a long ponytail. He stood over the casket without saying a word. He looked aloof. He looked dangerous. He hadn't spoken to anyone since he entered the building.
Tony Danzetta stared down at John Hamilton's casket with an expression like stone, although he was raging inside. It was hard to look at the remains of a man he'd known and loved since high school. His best friend was dead. Dead, because of a woman.
Tony's friend, Frank Mariott, had phoned him at the home of the man he was working for temporarily in Ja-cobsville, Texas. Tony had planned to stay around for a little longer, take a few weeks off from work before he went back to his real job. But the news about John had sent him rushing home to San Antonio.
Of the three of them, John had been the weak link. The other two were always forced to save him from himself. He fantasized about people and places that he considered were part of his life. Often the people were shocked to learn that he was telling his friends that he was on close terms with them.
Tony and Frank thought that John was harmless. He just wanted to be somebody. He was the son of people who worked for a local clothing manufacturing company. When the company moved outside the United States, they went to work at retail stores. Neither of them finished high school, but John often made up stories to tell classmates about his famous rich parents who had a yacht and their own airplane. Tony and Frank knew better, but they let him spin his yarns. They understood him.
But now John was dead, and that… woman was responsible! He could still see her face from the past, red with embarrassment when she'd asked him about one of their assignments at the adjunct college class they were both taking in criminal justice. That had been six years ago. She couldn't even talk to a man without stammering and shaking. Millie Evans had mousy-brown hair and green eyes. She wore glasses. She was thin and unremarkable. But Tony's adopted foster mother, who had been an archivist at the local library, was Millicent Evans's superior and she liked Millie. She was always talking about her to Tony, pushing her at him, right up until the day she died.
Tony couldn't have told his foster mother, but he knew too much about the girl to be interested in her. John had become fixated on her a couple of years ago and during one of Tony's rare visits home, had told him about her alter ego. In private, he said, Millie was hot. Give her a couple of beers and she'd do anything a man wanted her to do. That prim, nervous pose was just that—a pose. She wasn't shy and retiring. She was a party girl. She'd even done a threesome with him and their friend Frank, he'd told Tony in confidence. Don't mention that to Frank, though, he'd added, because Frank was still embarrassed about it.
What Tony had learned about Millie Evans had turned him right off her. Not that he'd found her attractive before that. She was another in a long line of dull, staid spinsters who'd do anything to get a man. Poor John. He'd felt sorry for his friend, because John was obsessed with Millicent Evans. To John, Millie was the queen of Sheba, the ultimate female. Sometimes she loved him, John moaned, but other times she treated him like a complete stranger. Other times, she complained that he was stalking her. Ridiculous, John had told Tony. As if he had to stalk her, when she was often waiting for him at his apartment, when he got off from work as a night watchman, wearing nothing at all!
John's description of the spinster was incomprehensible to Tony, who'd had beautiful, intelligent, wealthy women after him. He'd never had to chase a woman. Mil-licent Evans had no looks, no personality and she seemed rather dull witted. He never had been able to understand what John saw in her.
Now John was dead. Millicent Evans had driven him to suicide. Tony stared at the pale, lifeless face and rage built inside him. What sort of woman used a man like that, abused his love to the extent that she caused him to take his own life?
The funeral director had a phone call, which forced him to approach the silent man in the viewing room. He paused beside him. "Would you be Mr. Danzetta?" the man asked respectfully. The caller had identified him as tall and unconventional looking. That was an understatement. Up close, the man was enormous, and those black eyes cut like a diamond.
"I'm Tony Danzetta," he replied in a deep, gravelly voice.
"Your friend Mr. Mariott just phoned to tell us to expect you. He said you had a special request about the burial?"
"Yes," Tony told him. In his cashmere coat, that reached down to his ankles, he looked elegant. "I have two plots in a perpetual care cemetery just outside San Antonio, a short distance from where my foster mother is buried. I'd like you to put John in one of them." He was remembering a hill in Cherokee, North Carolina, where his mother was buried and a cemetery in Atlanta that held the remains of his father and his younger sister. He'd been in San Antonio since junior high school, with his foster mother. He described the plots, one of which he intended for John. "I have a plat of the location in my safe-deposit box. If I could drop it by in the morning?"
"Today would be better," the man replied apologetically. "We have to get our people to open the grave and prepare it for the service on the day after tomorrow, you understand."
He was juggling appointments, one of which was with his banker about a transfer of funds. But he smiled, as if it was of no consequence. He could get the plat out of the box while he was doing business at the bank. "No problem. I'll drop it by on my way to the hotel tonight."
"Thank you. That will save us a bit of bother."
Tony looked down at John. "You did a good job," he said quietly. "He looks… the way he used to look."
The man smiled broadly.
Tony looked at his watch. "I have to go. I'll be back when I've finished my business in town."
"Yes, sir."
"If Frank shows up before I get back, tell him that, will you? And tell him not to go out for food. I'll take him out to eat tonight."
"I will."
"Thanks."
The funeral director walked out of the viewing room, pausing to speak to someone. Tony, his eyes resting sadly on his friend's face, only half noticed the conversation.
He heard soft footsteps come toward the casket and pause beside him. He turned his head. And there she was. The culprit herself. She'd be twenty-six now, he judged, and she was no more attractive than she'd been all those years ago. She dressed better. She was wearing a neat gray suit with a pink blouse and a thick dark coat. Her dark brown hair was in a bun. She was wearing contacts in her green eyes, he imagined, because his foster mother had often mentioned how nearsighted she was. The lack of glasses didn't help her to look any prettier. She had a nice mouth and good skin, but she held no attraction for Tony. Especially after she'd been responsible for his best friend's death.
"I'm very sorry," she said quietly. She looked at John with no visible sign of emotion. "I never meant it to end like this."
"Didn't you?" He turned, his hands in the pockets of his coat, as he glared down at her with piercing dark eyes. "Teasing him for years, playing hard to get, then calling the police to have him arrested as a stalker? And you didn't mean it to end like this?"
She felt cold all over. She knew he'd worked in construction years ago, but there had been rumors about him since, whispers. Dark whispers. John had intimated that Tony was into illegal operations, that he'd killed men. Looking into his black eyes now, she could believe it. He wasn't the man she'd known. What had he said about her teasing John?
"Don't bother to lie," he said icily, cutting off her question even before it got out of her mouth. "John told me all about you."
Her eyebrows arched. What was there to tell, except that his friend John had almost destroyed her life? She drew herself up straighter. "Yes, he was quite good at telling people about me," she began.
"I never could understand what he saw in you," he continued, his voice as pleasant as his eyes were homicidal. "You're nothing to look at. I wouldn't give you a second look if you were dripping diamonds."
That hurt. She tried not to let it show, but it did. God knew what John had told him.
"I…have to go," she stammered. She was no good at confrontations. This big man was looking for a fight. Millie had no weapons against him. Long ago, the spirit had been beaten out of her.
"What, no urge to linger and gloat over your triumph?" He laughed coldly. "The man is dead. You drove him to suicide!"
She turned, her heart breaking, and met the tall man's eyes. "You and Frank could never see it," she replied.
"You wouldn't see it. Other men have infatuations. John had obsessions. He was arrested other times for stalking women—"
"I imagine you put the women up to reporting him," he interrupted. "John said you'd accuse him of stalking and then be waiting for him at his apartment, wearing no clothes at all."
She didn't seem surprised at the comment. He couldn't know that she was used to John's accusations. Much too used to them for comfort.
She moved one shoulder helplessly. "I tried to make him get help. When I finally had him arrested, I spoke to the district attorney myself and requested that they give him a psychiatric evaluation. John refused it."
"Of course he refused it. There was nothing wrong with his mind!" he shot back. "Unless you could call being infatuated with you a psychiatric problem." He raised both eyebrows. "Hell, I'd call it one!"
"Call it whatever you like," she said wearily. She glanced once more at John and turned away from the casket.
"Don't bother coming to the funeral," he said coldly. "You won't be welcome."
"Don't worry, I hadn't planned to," she replied.
He took a quick step toward her, infuriated by her lukewarm attitude, his dark eyes blazing with fury.
She gasped, dropped her purse and jumped back away from him. Her face was white.
Surprised, he stopped in his tracks.
She bent and scrambled for her purse, turned and ran out of the room.
There were murmurs outside the room. He glanced back at John, torn between anger and grief. "God, I'm sorry," he said softly to his friend. "I'm so sorry!"
He forced himself to leave. The funeral director was standing at the front door, looking worried.
"The young lady was very upset," he said uneasily. "White as a sheet and crying."
"I'm sure she was grieving for John," Tony said nonchalantly. "They knew each other a long time."
"Oh. That would explain it, then."
Tony walked to his car and felt better. At least he'd dragged some emotion out of her on behalf of his friend. He got behind the wheel of his expensive sports car and revved it out of the funeral home parking lot, his mind already on his appointment with the bank.
Millie Evans sat at the wheel of her little black VW Beetle and watched Tony drive away, out of her life. She was still crying. His coldness, his fury, had hurt her. She'd had to deal with John's histrionics and threats for two years, watching her life and career go down the drain while he told lies about her to anyone gullible enough to listen. He'd persecuted her, tormented her, made a hell of her daily life. Now he was dead, and Tony wanted to make her pay for driving his poor, helpless friend to suicide.
She wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief. Poor friend, the devil! Perhaps if he and Frank had realized that John was mentally ill years ago, they might have made him get help. He might have straightened out his life and gone on.
Millie was secretly relieved that John hadn't carried out his last, furious threat to end her life. He'd told her that she wouldn't get away with rejecting him. He had friends, he told her, who wouldn't hesitate to kill her for the right amount of money. He had savings, he'd raged; he'd use it all. He'd make sure she didn't live to gloat about pushing him out of her life!
She'd worried about that threat. The news was full of people who'd gone off the deep end and killed others they blamed for their problems, before killing themselves. It was, sadly, a fact of modern life. But she'd never dreamed that she—plain, prim little Millie Evans—would ever have something like that happen to her. Most people never even noticed her.
She'd wanted to be noticed by Tony. She'd loved him forever, it seemed. While his foster mother was alive, she'd coaxed the older woman into talking about her adoptive son. Tony had come a long way from North Carolina. He and his sister, both Cherokee, had lived with their mother and her abusive husband—but not their biological father—in Atlanta just briefly, but the man drank to excess and was brutal to the children.
From AudioFile
THE WINTER MAN presents two stories: The first tells the irritating tale of Millie Evans, a librarian who is being hunted by a hit man hired by her now dead stalker. The second equally implausible story recounts the woes of Amanda Callaway, a famous singer who seeks some "alone time" in a remote cabin, only to be "rescued" in a blizzard and forced to spend time with Quinn Sutton, a rustic rancher. He is the least desirable and least likable hero of a love story one could imagine. Narrator Marguerite Gavin provides a yo-yo voiced narration, an annoying cadence, and an acting style that is caricatured. Overall, the combination of story and narration is unappealing. A.C.P. © AudioFile 2010, Portland, Maine
Most helpful customer reviews
11 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
Waited of this story
By demeter1957
I am a big fan of Diana Palmer's and when I had read another book called Iron Cowboy, I was interested in the secondary character of Tony Danzetta. He was compassionate in this story, to the girl involved but in his own story which I had waited for, he was hurtful and nasty before he knew the facts of the lady in question in the book Silent Night. It was out of character for him so I was not so happy with that. Ms.Palmer worked it out in the end though.
IN the second story of Suttons Way, it was nice to visit old friends. I had read this story years ago and it is still a good story to read. I have to say that is why I like Ms. Palmer's books is most of the men have a chip on their shoulders and show it. Men in todays world don't show it and hide it away til you are caught, but not in these books. It is there from the beginning and what I like is that Ms. Palmer takes a simple woman, not stupid, but simple in her manners and takes down the angry man. It always makes me happy to get to the end knowing that Ms.Palmer is going to fix it all up but not before she makes the man humble and loving. It is a recipe for success as her book sales show. I know as a modern woman I should not like a dominate man but in todays world there are few men who are sure of themselves and have old world morals. I do, so I can relate to it.
8 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
Two stories--SILENT NIGHT MAN and SUTTON'S WAY.
By J. Kaye Oldner
This book consists of two stories--SILENT NIGHT MAN and SUTTON'S WAY.
SILENT NIGHT MAN
Millie Evans is a librarian who has had to fend off unwanted advances from a psycho named John Hamilton. When John kills himself, he leaves a promise to pay her back. Tony Danzetta believes his childhood friend was driven to committed suicide by Millie. It's only after he sends her away does he discover that his friend had become unstable over the years. He also learned that Millie has a contract killer after her. Now he must see what he can do to protect her as well as get back in her good graces.
Millie Evans has been in love with Tony Danzetta since she was a young girl, but she wasn't his type. He's made it no secret that he isn't the marrying type, yet there is something about Millie that he can't ignore.
If the theme of this story sounds familiar, it is. Not that the same old theme is a bad thing, but I had problems liking Tony. He was the "I am so worldly and you aren't" type. He was also quick to blame other people for his shortcomings. His character seemed a bit immature and childish for someone so worldly.
I also felt the scenes were too rushed and much of it was told in dialogue. There wasn't much believably in this one either. If I wasn't steaming angry at Tony, I was rolling my eyes at some of the outlandish parts. Bottom line is I just didn't like this story.
SUTTON'S WAY
Amanda Callaway is a famous singer who lost her singing voice after an accident on stage. She decided to stay in an isolated cabin in Wyoming. It belonged to the man her aunt had been living with. They were away for the winter.
A wintery blizzard forces Quinn Sutton, a rancher who lived nearby, to rescue Amanda. He brings her to stay at his ranch. Obviously hostile towards her, Amanda sees how gentle he is with his son. She works to understand the coldness he has towards women in general. Since Amanda uses a stage name, Quinn has no idea who she is. Little does she know this secret is like a ticking time-bomb that will blow up in her face.
I enjoyed this story much more than the first. There was a bit more realism and I liked the characters. I understood why Quinn shut himself off. What both of these stories lacked was the deep passion I've felt in some of Diana Palmer's previous books. I felt this story was just okay--not as good as some of her other books.
6 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
The Winter Man
By Becky Capehart
Diana Palmer cannot go wrong with her books.Yes they all sound the same,poor girl meets rich man.But whose doesnt love alittle romance.
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