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The boss who saw her beauty… 

Paris might be the city of love, but it makes trainee chef Piper Rush feel lonely! It's only the tentative bond she forges with her boss, brooding billionaire Frederic Lafontaine, that gives her the sense of belonging she's always craved… 

Gradually losing his sight, Frederic keeps everyone at arm's length. But as Piper brings laughter and light back into his heart, she also opens his eyes to what life could be like…together. Can Piper convince Frederic that she is the missing ingredient to his happily-ever-after?

• Sales Rank: #2216380 in Books
• Published on: 2015-09-01
• Format: Large Print
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.57" h x .68" w x 4.23" l, .26 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 256 pages

About the Author
Barbara Wallace can’t remember when she wasn’t dreaming up love stories in her head, so writing romances for Harlequin is a dream come true.  Happily married to her own Prince Charming, she lives in New England with a house full of empty-nest animals.  Readers can catch up with Barbara through her newsletter. SIgn up at www.barbarawallace.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
There should be a law against a man looking so good in a tuxedo. Staring at the man asleep in the chair, Piper felt an appreciative shiver. Monsieur Frederic Lafontaine had shed his jacket and untied his tie, yet he still looked like a million dollars, what with the way his shirt pulled taut across his linebacker-sized shoulders. She had to start using his dry cleaner. The guy must have been sprawled here for hours, and yet his clothes didn't have a single wrinkle. Piper's uniform wouldn't last five minutes. In fact—she ran a hand down the front of her black skirt—it hadn't.

Then again, she didn't have cheekbones that could cut glass or thick brown hair that begged to be touched, either. Maybe perfection came in bundles.

Taking a deep breath, she touched his shoulder and tried not to think about the broad muscles beneath her fingers. Eight months of working for the man, and she still hadn't shaken her attraction. "Monsieur? You need to wake up. It's after seven o'clock."

When he didn't respond, she shook his shoulder again, this time a little more aggressively. The motion did the trick. Slowly, his eyes opened, and he blinked unseeingly. "You fell asleep in the chair," she told him.

"Oh." His voice was thick with sleep, making it deeper and rougher than usual.

"What—what time is it?"

"Seven fifteen."

"What?" He bolted to his feet, arms akimbo, his right hand connecting with the cup of coffee Piper set on the end table only seconds before. The cup took flight, sending coffee over everything.

"Dammit!" he hollered as the hot liquid splashed his shirt. He immediately started pulling at the cloth, lifting it from his skin. "How many times have I told you, you must tell me when you put something within reach? You know I can't see anything put to the side."

It was hard to say much of anything seeing as how he jumped up before she had a chance to open her mouth. "I'll get you a towel."

"Don't bother." He'd already yanked the shirt free from his waistband. "Clean up the rest of the spill before it stains the carpet. I'm going to take a shower." He turned to head upstairs.

"Wait," Piper called.

Moving this time before he could speak, she scooped up the cup from where it had fallen on the carpet, half an inch from the toe of his shoe. "You were going to crush it," she said, holding the china teacup in front of his face.

If he appreciated her heads-up behavior, he didn't say so. "Tell Michel when he arrives that I will be ready shortly. And make sure my briefcase is by the front door. On the left," he added with emphasis.

As if she would leave it somewhere else. Piper bit back the sarcastic response. She learned a long time ago that some fights weren't meant to be won. Arguing with a man who was wearing hot coffee on his stomach was definitely one of those fights. Instead, she waited until he'd stalked his way upstairs, then treated herself to a glare in his direction. It would serve him right if she moved his bag to the right just to spite him. Because goodness knows the world might end if the briefcase was on the wrong side of the doorway.

Not that she would actually move the thing. Put out or not, she wasn't so petty that she'd pick on a blind man—or half-blind man as the case may be. Truth was, nitpicky as they were, monsieur's "rules" served a purpose. When she took this job, it was made very clear his limited field of vision required everything in the house to be just so. Chief on the list was that nothing should be set to the side without his knowledge. His lack of peripheral vision might cause a mishap, he'd explained. Most of the time, the system worked. There were times in fact, such as when he crossed the room with his slow, purposeful strides, that Piper forgot the man had trouble seeing.

After double-checking on the briefcase—which was on the left as always—she headed for the utility closet. "So goes another fun-filled day in Paris," she said as she marched into the kitchen for her cleaning supplies. Naturally, the coffee had fallen on the handmade Persian carpet. That meant instead of using the nice handy carpet-cleaning machine in the closet, she had to get the stain up with water and a vinegar paste.

This was not how she expected her year abroad to go. Her year here was supposed to signal the start of a new and exciting life. The wonderful moment when she stopped being dumpy Piper Rush and became Piper Rush, chef extraordinaire who dazzled the culinary institute with her skills and enthralled French men with her American wit. In short, the complete opposite of her life in East Boston.

She should have known better.

Didn't take long for her to realize that Paris was exactly the same as Boston, only in French. Which actually made it worse than Boston. Despite spending hours shoulder to shoulder with a dozen other people, she hadn't made a single close friend. Everyone was too busy trying to impress Chef Despelteau. In a way, you'd think the fact that she couldn't impress the man if she tried would help her cause, but no. Yesterday, after she didn't use enough confit to brown her chicken, he declared her cassoulet flavorless and spent ten minutes lecturing her on the importance of taste, even when making "peasant food." All her classmates did was snicker. City of Lights, her foot. More like the City of the Unfriendly.

Even Frederic barely paid attention to her, unless there was an errand to run, or she needed to wake him up. He was too busy lecturing at the university or heading off to some fancy social event.

The perpetual loneliness she fought to keep under wraps threatened to wedge free. She had to swallow to keep it from rising up and choking her. God, what she wouldn't give for someone to talk to. Or to go home.

Out of habit, her hand reached for the cell phone tucked in her apron only to leave it behind. It was still the middle of the night in Boston. Her sister, Patience, would still be asleep. Patience—the only reason she was sticking things out to completion. Her sister was convinced Piper was living the dream, and considering how much Patience had sacrificed so Piper could actually have a dream, she didn't dare disturb the fantasy. Besides, her sister had issues of her own. She and her boss's nephew were doing some kind of back-and-forth that had Patience on edge. The last thing she needed right now was a whiny baby sister burning up the data package complaining because her year abroad wasn't all sunshine and roses.

She carried her supplies into the salon, pausing when she reached the front window. A few blocks away, the Eiffel Tower loomed tall, reminding her she really had no right complaining. She might be lonely, but she was a lonely person living in luxury. Instead of monsieur's mansion, she could be living in some ratty apartment battling roaches for breakfast. Or worse, living on the streets. Been there, done both. She didn't feel like doing either again.

If only she had someone to share Paris with, then things wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't going to happen, though. If she hadn't found a kindred spirit yet, she wasn't going to. She was simply going to have to suck things up, the way she always did.

Speaking of sucking, she had a carpet to clean. Staring at the stain darkening the beige carpet, she sighed. This better not be a sign of how the rest of her day was going to go.

Frederic winced as he peeled the wet shirt from his body. Not because the liquid stung his skin, although it did, but because he was appalled at his behavior. Yelling at his housekeeper that way. Like a child throwing a tantrum. Didn't he swear he would never be that way? Become one of those angry invalids who took their bad moods out on others? Yet the first time he spills a drink, he lashes out. Embarrassment was no excuse.

What did he expect, falling asleep in the salon like that? It was the last glass of Bordeaux. Knowing the way alcohol went to his head and made him overly pensive, he never should have indulged. Last night found him sitting for hours, watching the tower's twinkling lights, his mind a sea of morose thoughts.

The dampness from his shirt found its way to his palms. Resisting the urge to hurl the garment across the room, he draped it on top of the duvet for Piper to find later. He stripped off the rest of his tuxedo as well, making sure he returned the suit and his shoes to their assigned places in the closet. Oh, but for those days when undressing meant toeing off your shoes wherever you stood and tossing your clothes in a heap.

Obviously, last night's moroseness hadn't subsided. Why else would he be bemoaning a past that he couldn't get back? After all, he'd come to terms with his failing eyesight long before it started to steal his peripheral vision. From the moment the doctors first told him his retina was degenerating, in fact. He knew full well that one day the tunnel through which he viewed the world would close completely, leaving him blind. He'd accepted his fate and framed his life in anticipation. And when the time came, he would shoulder the burden alone, the way a person should. He wouldn't drag others down with him. A promise that, until this morning, he'd done a very good job of keeping.

He owed his housekeeper a very large apology.

When the employment agency first recommended the American culinary student, he thought the idea ridiculous. A temporary resident? She'd be too distracted by studies and sightseeing. But as it turned out, Piper was nothing short of exemplary. Today aside, she did her job quietly and unobtrusively. In fact, the two of them could go days without crossing paths. Precisely the kind of help Frederic preferred.

Today's mistake with the coffee was as much his fault as hers. She no doubt set down the cup to wake him, not expecting him to stand up so quickly.

He would definitely apologize.

Unfortunately, there wasn't time right now. Leaning in close, he read the time on his nightstand clock. With luck, he could shower and make his first class in plenty of time. Whether or not his morning began poorly didn't matter to his superiors at the university. They expected him to deliver his lectures on time, regardless. This evening, then. Before the symphony. He would find Piper and explain that he overreacted. Then they would both forget this morning ever happened.

Staining the carpet turned out to be the high point of the day.

First, cleaning the rug took longer than planned. In addition to the major stain, there were a dozen or so tiny spots that needed blotting. It took her forever to find them all, so by the time Piper finished, she was running late. Chef Despelteau was less than thrilled to see her slip through the door five minutes into his lecture.

Now this.

"Uninspired," Chef Despelteau pronounced.

"Your spices, they do not dance, they plod. I expect my students to produce magic in the kitchen, not…" He dropped his fork back onto the plate with an expression that was usually reserved for walking around landfills. Shaking his head, he moved on, his silence letting everyone know Piper wasn't worth more of his time.

"…so pathetic. Why is she even here?"

The whispered comment drifted from the stovetop across the aisle. Apparently whoever said it didn't care if anyone heard him. Why should he, when the whole class was thinking the same thing?

Keeping her shoulders square, Piper stared straight ahead and pretended she didn't hear a thing. That was the number one rule. Never let them think they were getting to you. Never lose control. Never let them see you cry. Crying only gave the bullies power. Let them whisper behind her back all they wanted; she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing so much as a twitch.

She succeeded, too. All through Chef Despelteau's final remarks, through the Métro ride home, and even into the house. She managed to last until she saw the living room carpet and the faint brown ring reminding her she'd failed that task, too. Letting out the coarsest obscenity she knew, she broke down.

Screw cooking school. Tossing her bag in the chair, she stomped into the kitchen. Screw monsieur, too. Him and his impossible-to-clean carpeting. Screw Paris with its beautiful buildings and sidewalk cafés and shops she couldn't afford. She hated them all.

Carbs. She needed carbs. Yanking open the refrigerator door, she grabbed a wedge of cheddar cheese and an onion. Creamy, gooey macaroni and cheese, that's what this pity party needed. How's that for peasant food, Chef Despelteau?

Now if she would only stop crying. Sniffing back a fresh batch of tears, she grabbed the cheese grater and took to demolishing the cheddar to a shredded pulp.

"There you—"

"What now?" she snarled. What else could she add to her list of mistakes today?

Frederic blinked in shock. Great. Yelling at her boss. That's what she could add. Because, of course.

Horrified, she turned back to the cheese. "I mean, about this mor—morn…" The tears were back. She scrunched her face trying to stop them.

A paper towel floated in front of her face.

"Is everything all right?"

Why'd he have to sound nice, too? It made things worse. "Fine." Taking the paper towel, she wiped her cheeks and blew her nose.

"You don't look fine."

"The cheese is making my eyes water."

"I see. It must be quite pungent."

Piper ignored the comment, choosing to wipe her nose again instead. "Did you need something, monsieur?"

A tentative smile worked its way across his features. Afraid to set her off again, probably. "I wanted to apologize for losing my temper this morning. The coffee, it was not your fault."

No, it wasn't, she wanted to say. She didn't. Since he apologized, the least she could do was be gracious in return. "I should have known better than to put a cup where you couldn't see it."

"And I should know better than to behave like a brat," he countered, one-upping her. "It's rude to blame others for my shortcomings."

Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Loved this book
By D. Valentine
Loved this book. A beautiful modern day version of Cinderella, with a to-die-for, but "wounded," prince. I recommend it to anybody who wants to read a romance that touches the heart and leaves a warm, lasting impression.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
All of the millionaire stories are good and life experiences
By PAMELA SOUTH
A book to read again and keep in your library. All of the millionaire stories are good and life experiences.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Andrea Gostomski Daia
Very nicely written

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Shannon's Christmas Wish List 1. A gorgeous billionaire to buy her storeâ ¦enter Rory Wallace-swoon! 2. The magic of Christmasâ ¦Rory and his little girl need to know that it still exists. 3. Willpowerâ ¦because kissing Rory under the mistletoe would be a Very Bad Idea. Shannon Raleigh can't believe that both Rory Wallace and his little girl dislike Christmas so much and she's determined to make her favorite season as magical as possible! But working with handsome Rory every day proves challenging, because Shannon finds herself longing for Christmas kisses with the man she can never haveâ ¦.

• Sales Rank: #8226228 in Books
• Published on: 2011-11-29
• Format: Large Print
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .70" w x 4.21" l, .26 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 256 pages

About the Author
Susan Meier spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper – until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan lives in Western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, her children, and two over-fed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Shannon Raleigh turned to get a look at herself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom of her executive office suite and gaped in horror. The tall black boots and short red velvet dress she wore exposed most of her legs and the white fur-trimmed U at the bodice revealed a sizable strip of cleavage.

"I can't go into a roomful of kids dressed like this!"

Even from behind the closed door, she could hear her assistant Wendy sigh heavily. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Because I know you'll say I look fine, when I don't. I can't usher kids to Santa's lap in a skirt so short I can't bend over."

"So don't bend over." Another sigh. "Look, Shannon, it doesn't matter that you're eight inches taller than Carlie. There's nobody else who's even remotely thin enough to fit into that suit. Carlie's car is stuck in a snowdrift. If you don't play Santa's helper there'll be no one to—"

The ring of the phone stopped Wendy midsentence. The next thing Shannon heard was Wendy's happy voice saying, "Raleigh's Department Store. Shannon Raleigh's assistant, Wendy, speaking."

In the lull while Wendy obviously listened to the caller, Shannon cast another critical eye over her reflection. The little red dress was kind of cute. The color complemented her long black hair and made her blue eyes seem bluer. If she were wearing it anywhere else, she'd actually think she looked pretty.

A long-forgotten ache filled her. It was the first time in a year she felt pretty, sexy. But sexy wasn't exactly the way a grown woman should dress in a room filled with babies, toddlers and elementary school kids.

The ache was quickly replaced by fear—which was the real reason she didn't want to play Santa's helper. How could she spend four hours in a room full of adorable children? She wanted a baby so badly it hurt, but she couldn't have kids. And seeing all those sweet faces, hearing their cute little lists, would crush her.

"Um, Shannon?"

"I'm not coming out."

"Fine. That was Tammy in the shoe department. No one's come into the store for the past hour and she could tell the storm was getting worse, so she checked the forecast on the internet. They have no clue how much snow we're going to get, but they aren't shy about suggesting we might get another foot."

"Anotherfoot!"

Shannon raced out of her bathroom and pulled back the curtain behind her huge mahogany desk. Thick fluffy snowflakes cascaded from the sky, coating the tinsel and silver bells on the streetlamps of Main Street, Green Hill, Pennsylvania. It blanketed the Christmas lights that outlined shop doorways, and sat on the roof of the park's gazebo like a tall white hat.

"Holy cow!"

Her gaze on the little red Santa's helper outfit, Wendy also said, "Holy cow."

"Don't make fun. We have a serious problem here." Or maybe a way out. She turned from the window. "I think it's time to admit that the storm is keeping shoppers away."

"And most of the staff is scared silly about driving home. The longer we stay, the worse the roads get."

"okay, announce that the store is closing in fifteen and tell the employees they can go home. I'll call the radio stations so they can add us to their list of closings. Then I'll lock up."

As the announcement went out over the loudspeaker, Shannon called all the local radio stations and advised them to let listeners know Raleigh's would be closed for the night.

Just as she hung up the phone from the final call, Wendy peeked in. "Okay. Fifteen minutes are up. Store's empty."

"Great. Thanks. Be careful going home." "My boyfriend's coming to pick me up in his truck. I'll be fine."

Shannon smiled. "See you tomorrow." "If we can make it."

"We better hope we can make it. The weekend before Christmas is our busiest time."

Wendy shrugged. "If shoppers don't get here tomorrow, they'll just come on Sunday or Monday or Tuesday or whatever. Nobody's going to go without gifts this Christmas. I'd say your profits are safe."

Shannon laughed. Wendy waved and headed off. With a few clicks on her keyboard, she activated the building locks and the alarm system. Reaching for her coat, she peered down at her little Santa's helper outfit. She should change, but knowing the roads were getting worse with every passing minute, she simply yanked her long white wool coat from the closet and ran out.

At the end of the hall, she pushed on the swinging door that led from executive row to housewares. Striding to the elevator, she passed shelves and tables bulging with merchandise, all under loops of tinsel and oversized ornaments hanging from the low ceiling. On the first floor, she hurried past the candy department, to the back door and the employee parking lot. Putting her SUV into four-wheel drive, she edged onto the street and slowly wound along the twisty road that took her out into the country, to her home five miles outside the small city.

As she stepped out into the eighteen inches of snow in her driveway, a sense of disconnect shivered through her. Though it had been a year, it felt like only yesterday that she had been married and living in sunny, happy Charleston, South Carolina, where people didn't often see snow, let alone need winter coats and boots. Then she'd been diagnosed with stage-four endometriosis and forced to have a hysterectomy, her husband had unceremoniously divorced her and she'd returned home to the comforting arms of her parents.

But just when she'd gotten adjusted to being back in town and working at the store, her parents had retired and moved to Florida. Worse, they now wanted her to sell the store to fund their retirement.

Once again, she was alone—and soon she'd be unemployed.

She trudged up the back steps to the kitchen door, scolding herself for being so negative. She knew what was wrong. The near miss with playing Santa's helper had rattled her. Four hours of ushering kids to Santa's throne and listening to their sweet voices as they gave their Christmas lists to the jolly old elf would have been her undoing—a bittersweet reminder to her that she'd never bring a child into this world.

Inside the cold yellow kitchen, she'd just barely unwound the scarf from her neck when the doorbell rang. Confused, she walked up the hall, dodging the boxes of Christmas decorations she'd brought from the attic the night before. She flipped on the porch light and yanked open the door.

A snow-covered state policeman took off his hat. "Evening, ma'am. I'm Trooper Potter."

She blinked. What the devil would the police want with her? "Good evening."

Then Trooper Potter shifted a bit to his left and she saw Rory Wallace. All six foot one, no more than one hundred and eighty-five gorgeous pounds of him. His black hair and topcoat were sprinkled with snow. His dark eyes were wary, apologetic.

"Rory?"

"Good evening, Shannon."

The policeman angled his thumb behind him. "I see you know Mr. Wallace."

"Yes. I do." How could she forget a dark-haired, dark-eyed sex god? While he had dated her roommate, Natalie, their first year at university, Shannon had had a secret crush on him. With his high cheekbones, well-defined chin, broad shoulders and flat abs, he had the kind of looks that made women swoon and Shannon wasn't blind.

"Mr. Wallace was stranded on the interstate. The hotels filled up quickly with travelers and now his only options are a cot in the high school gym or finding someone to take him in. He tells me that he's in Pennsylvania because he has business with you on Monday and—"

"I came a few days early to get a look at the store on my own," Rory interrupted, stepping forward. "But I ran into the storm. I was hoping you wouldn't mind me staying the night. Normally, I wouldn't ask such a big favor, but as you can see I'm desperate."

Mind? She almost laughed. She would bet that fifty percent of the women he met fantasized about being stuck in a storm with him.

She opened the door a little wider. Not only would having him stay the night get her out of the doldrums about her life, but this also had all the makings of a perfect fantasy. Cold night. Gorgeous guy. And wine. She had tons of wine.

"Daddy, I'm cold."

Her fantasy came to an abrupt halt as she glanced down and saw a little girl standing beside Rory. She wore a pink ski jacket and carried a matching pink backpack. Little strands of yellow hair peeked from beneath her hood.

Her heart pinched with fear. Her breathing stuttered out. Did Fate think it was funny to let her dodge playing Santa's helper only to drop an adorable child on her doorstep?

"You can see why I don't want to stay in a shelter."

Fear and yearning collided as she glanced down at the sweet little girl with big blue eyes and fine yellow hair. As much as she knew spending time with this child would intensify her longing for her own children, she couldn't leave Rory and his daughter out in the cold or ship them to a crowded gym with hundreds of other noisy travelers and a tiny cot.

She also couldn't be a Scrooge. Her problem wasn't their problem. She would be a good hostess.

She stepped back so they could enter. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Carrying a duffel bag and briefcase as he squeezed into the foyer, Rory brushed against her, setting off a firestorm of sensations inside her. She ignored them. Not just because a man with a child was most likely married, but because she probably wouldn't have made a pass at him even if he'd been alone. In the year since her divorce, she hadn't been able to relate to men as anything other than employees. After her husband's anger over her inability to have kids and the way he&...

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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Christmas story filled with homespun charm!
By Michele L.
KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST is a homespun tale of Christmas sweets and treats. A handsome man, Rory Wallace, offers to buy from Shannon, her parent's department store. Shannon is swept off her feet by Rory's drop dead gorgeous looks. Kissing a man has never been so tempting from the moment Rory steps over the threshold of Shannon's front door. She finds out that he and his daughter do not like Christmas. She is determined to infuse magic into the holiday to bring the love for the season back into their lives. The attraction between Shannon and Rory is instantaneous and crackles like a whip whenever they get close. Finley might be a diva when she first stays at Shannon's house. However, it doesn't take Shannon long to melt the little girl's heart. The author, Susan Meier, does a divine job of portraying the magic of the holiday season and all of the fun and surprises that go along with it. This story is filled with love and lots of homespun charm. KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST is a story that will hug and warm your heart.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Banishes Scrooge
By Janet
Christmas books are one of my favorite things about the holiday season and Susan Meier's Kisses on Her Christmas list satisfies all my requirements--holiday spirit, finding joy in simple things, the triumph of love, and the value of family. Well plotted, with characters who are not stereotypes, but real people whose responses to circumstances and one another are believable and inspire the sympathies of the reader. When a preChristmas snowstorm lands Shannon with a stranded college acquaintance and his difficult 6 yr old daughter, she is faced with her worst nightmare--entertaining a child when her own infertility has cripled her ability to enjoy kids. But handling unhappy Finley and her very attractive father is really just what Shannon needs to open her spirit to the possibilities of a full and satisfying life. A fine holiday read.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
A 3.5 star effort
By L Miller
Susan Meier is a reliable writer--her characters are likable, and move nicely to the happily ever after conclusion. Corny? No. She manages to craft characters who walk the corny fairy tale line without being corny themselves. She has made this storyline her own. It pivots on a challenging child the hero can't quite manage. The heroine graciously helps them both come to terms with their challenges, falling in love with each, meantime. Meier seems to churn out these romances with one hand tied behind her back. It's a true craftsman who can make her work look easy. Meier's works have their own corner in my Kindle.

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# Download Wrong Bride, Right Groom (Holiday Honeymoons), by Merline Lovelace

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YOU MAY KISS......THE MAID OF HONOR! When her flighty sister decided she couldn't go through with her wedding, Abby Davis reluctantly agreed to give the groom-to-be the bad news. And when the prospective groom was assigned to active duty, his best man, Pete O'Brian, offered to make his excuses to his comrade's jilted bride. So of course, Pete greeted Abby with a kiss! Hell, she was almost family, right? Abby was horrified at first, but ....talk about your holiday surprises! She had expected to find her sister's spurned fiance. Instead, Pete was looking to her like one groom...with all the trimmings!

• Sales Rank: #5116655 in Books
• Published on: 1996-10-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: .58" h x 4.17" w x 6.71" l,
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 192 pages

Features

• HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS: Because when you combine weddings with holidays,
• something magical happens!
• From Silhouette Desire, Merline Lovelace

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Mary Stewart
great book

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS - THANKSGIVING!
By M. Hartmann
Another not to be passed up.
Lucy Falco the owner of Gullivers Travels is back again -- with Thanksgiving bookings. They have put together a honeymoon package for Abigail Davis's sister at The Pines Resort.
Abby Davis, a young estate appraiser and antique dealer had recently redecorated Lucy's office. "Poor Abby" had her sisters' wedding sprung on her less than a week ago and all of the arrangements dumped in her lap.
"This is one honeymoon the bride and groom will never forget".
When Abby's flighty sister decided she couldn't go through with the wedding Abby reluctantly agreed to give the groom-to-be the bad news.
Yikes! but who should show up but the groom-to be's best man, Pete O'Brian. Pete, assuming Abby to be the jilted bride, greeted her with a kiss. Talk about your holiday surprises!
The next two holidays, Christmas and New Years, belong to Carole Buck -- look for them and then M. Lovelace is back for Valentine's Day -- great way to spend the holidays -- on someone else's honeymoon. [grin] [look at the cover - my guy is back again]see if you can count his covers.

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Riley Westmoreland never mixes business with pleasure—until he meets his company's gorgeous new party planner. But when he gets Alpha Blake into bed, he realizes one night will never be enough. That's when her past threatens to end their affair. So Riley does what any Westmoreland male would do…he vows to win her heart—for good.

• Sales Rank: #971871 in Books
• Published on: 2012-11-27
• Released on: 2012-11-27
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .53" w x 4.21" l, .30 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 192 pages

About the Author

Brenda Jackson is a New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred romance titles. Brenda lives in Jacksonville, Florida, and divides her time between family, writing and traveling. Email Brenda at authorbrendajackson@gmail.com or visit her on her website at brendajackson.net.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


A blistering cold day in early November

It had snowed overnight and a thick white blanket seemed to cover the land as far as the eye could see. The Denver weather report said the temperature would drop to ten below by midday and would stay that way through most of the night. It was the kind of cold you could feel deep in your bones, the kind where your breath practically froze upon exhale. He loved it.

Riley Westmoreland opened the door to his truck and, before getting inside, paused to take in the land he owned. Riley's Station was the name he'd given his one-hundred-acre spread seven years ago, on his twenty-fifth birthday. He had designed the ranch house himself and had helped in the building of it, proudly hammering the first nail into the lumber. He was mighty pleased with the massive two-story structure that sat smack in the center of his snow-covered land.

He was probably the only one in his family who welcomed the snowstorms each year. He thought the snow was what made Denver the perfect place to be in the winter and why his home had fireplaces in all five of the bedrooms, as well as in the living room and family room. There was nothing like curling up before a roaring fire or looking out the window to see the snowflakes fall from the sky, something he'd been fascinated with even as a child. He could recall being out in the thick snow with his brothers and cousins building snowmen. These days he enjoyed moving around the mountains on his snowmobile or going skiing in Aspen.

Riley got into the truck and after settling his body on the leather seat he snapped the seat belt in place. There really was no need for him to go into the office since he could work from home. But he had wanted to get out, breathe in the cold, fresh air and feel the chill in his bones. Besides, he did have an important appointment at noon.

Since his oldest brother, Dillon, had slowed down now that his wife, Pam, was close to her delivery date, a lot of the projects on Dillon's plate at their family-owned business, Blue Ridge Land Management, fell on Riley's shoulders since he was the next man in charge of the Fortune 500 company. The next thing on the agenda was the planning of the employees' holiday party next month.

The event planner that had handled their social functions for the past ten years had retired and before Riley had taken over the project, Dillon had hired Imagine, a local event planning company that opened in town less than a year ago. The owner of Imagine, a woman by the name of Alpha Blake, had put together a charity event that Dillon's wife, Pam, had attended over the summer. Pam had been so impressed with all the detailed work Imagine had done that she passed the woman's name to Dillon. As far as Riley was concerned, you couldn't come any more highly recommended than that. Dillon trusted his wife's judgment in all things.

Riley was about to start the ignition when his cell phone buzzed. He pulled the phone off his side belt. "Yes?"

"Mr. Westmoreland?"

He lifted a brow, not recognizing the ultrarich, feminine voice but definitely liking how it sounded. He figured this had to be a business call since none of the women he dated would refer to him as "Mr. Westmoreland."

"Yes, this is Riley Westmoreland. How can I help you?"

"This is Alpha Blake. We have a noon appointment at your office, but I have a flat tire and had to pull off to the side of the road. Unfortunately, I'm going to be late."

He nodded. "Have you called for road service?"

"Yes, and they said they should be here in less than thirty minutes."

Don't count on it, he thought, knowing how slow road service could be this time of the year. "Where's your location, Ms. Blake?"

"I'm on Winterberry Road, about a mile from the Edgewater intersection. There's a market not far away, but it didn't appear to be open when I drove past earlier."

"And chances are it won't be open today. Fred Martin owns that market and never opens the day after a bad snowstorm," he said.

He knew her exact location now. "Look, you're not far from where I am. I'll call my personal road service company to change your tire. In the meantime, I'll pick you up and we can do a lunch meeting at McKay's instead of meeting at my office, since McKay's is closer. And afterward, I can take you back to your car. The tire will be changed by then."

"I—I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"You won't. I know you and Dillon have gone over some ideas for the party, but since I'll be handling things from here on out, I need to be briefed on what's going on. Usually my administrative assistant handles such matters, but she's out on maternity leave and this party is too important to hand off to anyone else."

And what he didn't bother to say because he was certain Dillon had done so already was that this would be the fortieth anniversary of the company his father and uncle had founded. This was not just a special event for the employees, but was important to everyone in the Westmoreland family.

"All right, if you're sure it won't be an inconvenience," she said, breaking into his thoughts.

"It won't be, and I'm on my way."

Alpha Blake tightened her coat around her, feeling totally frustrated. What did a person who had been born in sunny Florida know about the blistering cold of Denver, especially when it had snowed all night and the roads and everything else were covered with white?

But she was so determined to keep her noon appointment with Riley Westmoreland that she'd made a mess of things. Not only would she be late for their appointment, but because of her flat tire they would have to change the location of the meeting and Mr. Westmoreland would be the one driving her there. This was totally embarrassing when she had been trying to make a good impression. Granted, she'd already been hired by Dillon Westmoreland, but when his secretary called last week to say that she would be working with the next man in charge at Blue Ridge, namely Dillon's brother, Riley, she had felt the need to make a good impression on him, as well.

She turned up the heat in her car. Even with a steady stream of hot air coming in through the car vents, she still felt cold, too cold, and wondered if she would ever get used to the Denver weather. Of course it was too late to think about that now. It was her first winter here, and she didn't have any choice but to grin and bear it. When she'd moved, she'd felt that getting as far away from Daytona Beach as she could was essential to her peace of mind, although her friends thought she needed to have her head examined. Who in her right mind would prefer blistering cold Denver to sunny Daytona Beach? Only a person wanting to start a new life and put a painful past behind her.

Her attention was snagged when an SUV pulled off the road to park in front of her. The door swung open and long, denim-clad, boot-wearing legs appeared before a man stepped out of the truck and glanced her way. She met his gaze through the windshield and couldn't help the heart-piercing moment when she literally forgot to breathe. Walking toward her car was a man who was so dangerously masculine, so heart-stoppingly virile, that her brain went momentarily numb.

He was tall, and the Stetson on his head made him appear taller. But his height was secondary to the sharp handsomeness of the features beneath the brim of his hat. There was the coffee-and-cream color of his skin, his piercing dark brown eyes, a perfectly shaped nose, his full lips and a sculpted chin.

And she couldn't bypass his shoulders, massive and powerful-looking. It was hard to believe, with the temperature being what it was, that he seemed comfortable braving the harsh elements with a cowhide jacket instead of a heavy coat. It was in the low teens, and he was walking around like it was in the high sixties.

Her gaze slid all over him as he moved his long limbs toward her vehicle in a walk that was so agile and self-assured, she almost envied the confidence he exuded with every step. Her breasts suddenly peaked, and she could actually feel blood rushing through her veins. She didn't have to guess about what was happening to her, but still, she was surprised. This was the first time she'd reacted to a man since her breakup with Eddie.

The man made it to her car and tapped on the window. She all but held her breath as she pressed the button to roll it down. "Riley Westmoreland?" She really didn't have to ask since he favored his brother, Dillon.

"Yes. Alpha Blake?" he responded, offering her his hand through the open window while looking at her with what she thought was cool and assessing interest.

"Yes." She took his hand and even through her leather gloves, she thought it felt warm. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Westmoreland."

"Riley," he corrected, smiling, and she felt her insides melt. He had a gorgeous pair of eyes. Dark and alluring. "The pleasure is all mine," he added. "I've only heard exceptional things about you and your work. Both Dillon and Pam speak highly of you, Alpha. I hope it's okay for me to call you Alpha."

"Thank you, and yes, that's fine."

"I've made all the arrangements with my road service. Keep your emergency lights on and leave your car keys under your seat," he said, taking a step back so she could get out of the vehicle.

She nervously gnawed her bottom lip. "Will it be safe to do that?"

He chuckled. "Yes, days like this keep thieves inside." He opened the car door for her. "Ready to get inside my truck?"

"Yes." She placed her key under the seat and then grabbed her purse and messenger bag. Tightening her coat around her, she walked quickly to the side of his truck. He was there to open the door and she appreciated finding the inside warm and cozy. It smelled like him, a scent that was masculine and sexy. She blushed, wondering why she was thinking such things, especially about a man she would be working for.

He closed the door just seconds before his cell phone rang, and she looked at the outside mirror as he spoke on the phone while moving around the front of the truck to get in the driver's side.

Opening the door, he climbed inside and proceeded to adjust the seat to accommodate his long legs before snapping his seat belt in place. The call had ended. He put his phone away and glanced over at her with a smile. She thought she would melt right then and there. "Warm?" he asked in a voice that was throatier than anything she'd ever heard.

If only you knew, she fought back saying. Instead her response was a simple "Yes. Thanks for asking."

"No problem." He then glanced into the rearview mirror before easing the truck onto the road.

The ensuing silence gave Riley the impression the woman was shy. And with her wrapped in a bulky coat and standing no more than five foot three, he figured she was probably short and stocky. He preferred tall, slender and curvy, but she had a pretty face that was eye-catching. She was definitely a looker. That had been the first thing he'd noticed. He was a sucker for a pretty face each and every time.

Deciding he didn't like the silence, he reached out and switched on the CD player. Immediately the soulful sound of Jill Scott filled the air. After a few moments, he concluded the music was not enough. To get a dialogue started, he asked conversationally, "I understand you're from Florida. What brought you to Denver?"

She tilted her head to look at him, and the first thing he noticed was her eyes. They were a chocolate brown and oval in shape. Then he was drawn to her hair, a beautiful shade of brown. The thick strands touched her shoulders and curled at the end. The coloring, whether natural or from a bottle, was perfect for her smooth, cocoa-colored complexion. And then there was that cute dimple in her chin, which was there even when she bore a serious expression.

"I've never been the adventurous type, but when my godmother passed away and left me enough funds that I could make a career change without going broke, I took advantage of it."

He nodded. "So what were you doing before you became an event planner?"

"I was a veterinarian."

"Wow. That was some career change."

She smiled. "Yes, it was."

He looked ahead, thinking that if she thought she would not have to explain why someone would stop being a veterinarian to become an event planner, she could think again. "How does a person go from being a vet to becoming a party planner?"

She pushed a lock of hair from her face and said, "Becoming a vet was my parents' idea, and I went along with it."

"Why?" He couldn't imagine going to college for anything other than what he wanted to do in life. He did, however, know how a person could get their dream career waylaid, as in the case of his cousin, Ramsey.

Ramsey had always wanted to be a sheep rancher, and he'd gone to school to study agricultural economics. The only reason Ramsey had taken a CEO position at Blue Ridge Management after school, instead of going into farming, was to work alongside Dillon to keep the company afloat when their parents had died in a plane crash. But once Ramsey and Dillon had made it into a million-dollar company, Ramsey had turned full management of Blue Ridge over to Dillon to become the sheep rancher he'd always wanted to be.

Riley's truck came to a stop at the traffic light, which gave him the opportunity to glance back over at Alpha just in time to see her gnawing her lips again and fidgeting with a sterling silver Tiffany bracelet on her wrist. Umm, it seems "why" was another uncomfortable question, he thought.

"I became a vet mainly to satisfy my parents. They own a veterinary clinic and figured I would join them and make it a family affair. I did so for a year, but discovered my heart just wasn't in it. They knew it, but still, they weren't happy when I decided to switch careers. However, they accepted that being an event planner was my calling when I put together their thirtieth wedding anniversary celebration."

"Did a good job of it, huh?" he asked.

She looked over at him and the smile that touched her lips extended from one corner of her mouth to the other and was simply breathtaking. "Yes, I did a bang-up job."

He laughed. "Good for you." He paused a second and asked, "Are you the only child?"

It seemed to take her longer than necessary to answer. "No. I have a sister."

He didn't say anything for a long moment and decided to change the subject. "So what do you have in mind for our employees' holiday bash next month?"

He listened as she went into the details. Some he was able to follow and some he could not. He was a visual person and couldn't use her words to produce mental images. He needed to see actual photographs to get the full effect.

Most helpful customer reviews

16 of 20 people found the following review helpful.
One Winter's Night
By R. A Rippy
Loved this Westmoreland story and they just get better and better. Riley Westmoreland of the Denver Westmoreland's is not in favor of love after seeing the pain his brother Bane went through losing the love of his life. Alpha Blake was not looking for love after some past painful relationhips and a broken engagement. Riley and Alpha find out that when true love happens, love will prevail. Great story!

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Another known Westmoreland bachelor gets bit by the love bug....
By Rhea Alexis M. Banks
One Winter's Night is a great read that takes you through the coming together of Riley Westmoreland and Alpha Blake. This installment to the Westmoreland family takes place in Denver amidst the beautiful mountains and snow covered open lands. Another known Westmoreland bachelor gets bit by the love bug regarding a woman that has recently relocated to the area. Ms. Blake left behind something (s) and one(s) that she doesn't want to think of let alone discuss. These two have an affair that doesn't know how to end. I am awaiting the next one, thank you Mrs. Jackson.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Good Read
By kslmbuggie
3.5 stars

This was a solid read from Brenda Jackson. The story has a nice flow, and kept me interested. There was great chemistry between Riley and Alpha. Their love scenes were super spicy and extremely passionate, some were border line erotic which was nice. I liked how this book was mostly about them. Yes we got snippets of the other Westmorelands, but this book primarily concentrated on Riley and Alpha which is a welcomed change. If you are a fan if this series I think you would enjoy this one.

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Take Me, Cowboy (Copper Ridge), by Maisey Yates

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This sexy rancher is her best friend…but can he be more? Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Maisey Yates! 

She's just one of the boys, but with a new business in Copper Ridge, Anna Brown needs to change that. Her brothers bet she can't land a date for a fancy charity event. So Anna turns to her best friend—the hottest bachelor in town—for advice.  

Rancher Chase McCormack wants in on that gala. If Anna takes him, he promises to turn her into a lady. But the makeover reveals what he's long suspected—Anna's irresistible! Is his best friend prepared to be taken—heart, body and soul—by her very own cowboy?

• Sales Rank: #32227 in Books
• Published on: 2016-04-05
• Released on: 2016-04-05
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.53" h x .49" w x 4.25" l, .21 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 208 pages

About the Author

New York Times Bestselling author Maisey Yates lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffee maker is a true example of her pioneer spirit. 

 

Most helpful customer reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Same plot as Brokedown Cowboy
By DianthaJ
This book gets three stars for the easy, fun writing alone. Otherwise there isn't much more to say about this book. It had lovable characters as expected, but the plot was exactly like Connor and Liss' story. I mean, almost exactly.

It's a girl/guy best friends-to-lovers storyline where the girl realizes what's happening between them way before the guy does. She wants more, he fights against it and then eventually comes around. This is not only exactly like another Copper Ridge book, but it's like many books of this kind. I read it and I made it to the end but I can't say I liked it when Brokedown Cowboy had the same plot.

Don't get me wrong. I love Maisey Yates and will continue to read her books. But this one was just a disappointment. Oh well. On to the next one!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A first of many!!!
By Supersnow
This was the first book that I have read by Maisey Yates and quickly bought more after reading it. I liked that this story demonstrated the feelings that can build between two friends after spending years together and that love will find a way. You can't always ignore the feelings that you have. I especially liked that Anna wasn't your typical girl. She was a tomboy much like myself.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Romantic, funny!
By M Burns
Maisey Yates is a great writer. Another in her series of hits. Romance, geeky humor, small coastal town, an unusual heroine and hot cowboys! What's not to love?!

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! Download Magnolia, by Diana Palmer

Download Magnolia, by Diana Palmer

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Atlanta in 1900 was a city of contrasts: a bustling place where commerce and high society flourished amid the languid rhythms of the sultry South. Claire Lang loved her life there, but one man's presence unsettled her very soul. John Hawthorn's dark eyes and lean, handsome face captivated Claire more than she wanted to admit. And when tragedy struck, Claire found herself desperate enough to marry him—a man who couldn't return her passionate love.

As the fragrant scent of the magnolia wafted on warm breezes, Claire aroused fierce, unexpected desires in her elusive husband. And once she had tasted his kisses and savored his lovemaking, she dared to fight for him as a sizzling scandal threatened to engulf them and the love she began to believe could be theirs….

• Sales Rank: #1083362 in Books
• Published on: 2010-11-23
• Released on: 2010-11-23
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.25" h x .88" w x 5.38" l, .55 pounds
• Binding: Paperback
• 336 pages

Features

• sizzling scandal threatened to engulf them and the love she began

Review
When Claire accepted John Hawthorn's proposal of marriage, she thought they would both benefit. John would no longer be jeopardizing his reputation or that of the beautiful wife of the bank president (and his ex-fiancee). For Claire...well, it would just solve many of her problems. After her uncle died, she had no one to turn to and no income of which to speak. Not to mention the fact that there was not even a roof over her head after the bank took over everything she had. Claire took few things with her into this marriage -- an automobile she affectionately called Chester, her talent for sewing, and her love for the man she was marrying. Unfortunately, it looked like John was still tied by the heartstrings to his dear Diane Culverson, and tongues in society were wagging. At every turn it seemed that John was hanging on Diane's every word, clinging to her arms, and touching ever so casually. It was more than any woman could take. It takes just one night of passion and one morning of cruelty to turn Claire from John. Fearing that she is only a vessel for his lust, Claire flees John, wanting only to think of a solution to her predicament. However, when a scandal erupts at the bank and John is jailed, Claire rushes back to his side, knowing she cannot let this happen to the man she loves. She can not and will not allow him to be destroyed! Diana Palmer's strength lies in the aggressiveness of her characters. At first, you may find yourself wishing that John would give in to Claire's gentle nature. You may ask yourself why Claire allows herself to go on being a victim for so long. Diana lets these characters grow to know each other as the story progresses. As you turn each page, you will watch them learning more, revealing hidden secrets, and uncovering false faces. Their discovery of their true feelings is as vital as the real world. Run a true gauntlet of emotions....These characters never let up! Diana Palmer is wonderful! A beautifully chaotic romance! A story that brings out emotions that are so real -- anger, grief, remorse, passion. It's all there!Karen Ellington -- Copyright © 1994-97 Literary Times, Inc. All rights reserved -- From Literary Times

From the Inside Flap
A love as sweet and seductive as the magnolias and peachtrees

of Georgia . . .



Atlanta in 1900 was a city of contrasts: a bustling place where commerce and high society flourished amid the languid rhythms of the sultry South. Claire Lang loved her life there, but one man's presence unsettled her very soul. John Hawthorn's dark eyes and lean, handsome face captivated Claire more than she wanted to admit. And when tragedy struck, Claire found herself desperate enough to marry him--a man who didn't love her . . . a man she loved passionately.



As the fragrant scent of the magnolia wafted on warm breezes, Claire aroused fierce, unexpected desires in her elusive husband. And once she had tasted his kisses and savored his lovemaking, she dared to fight for him as a sizzling scandal threatened to engulf them and the love she began to believe could be theirs. . . .

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.

Most helpful customer reviews

17 of 18 people found the following review helpful.
Did we all read the same book?
By Faira Gann
I didn't see any communication or joy in each others company with John and Claire. He was gone 15 hours of each day and she was busy with the things that would make her look the perfect wife to him and others. But how he was suppose to know this, I don't know, because she never told him. I didn't see how he eventually even fell in love with Claire at all, because aside from him hardly ever being at home with her... where they actually got to know each other... was nil!
When they were together she was shrewish with jealousy and he was jealously controlling of her while in love with another woman. And, John while thinking to himself later in the book that he was coming to love Claire, he would tell her he still loved the other woman. What? Why?

It was also hard for me to believe among all of Claire's other endeavors she was able to design and sew all those elaborate dresses in so short a period of time. They had beads and elaborate embroidery and so forth on them. I sew a lot and she would have to have been super human to do all that designing and sewing, even if she hadn't been doing everything else she was doing. And Macy's finding her because of dresses she made in her town; WOW, like being struck by lightening for the lottery. And where did she come by all these design and sewing skills, she lived with an Uncle that spent all his money on an Automobile that she was also obsessed with (she was a little grease monkey). They were very poor, so where did Claire come by all these skills and time with designing and sewing with 'expensive' fabrics and such? Beats me! It was an okay story, but not realistic.
When Claire left him and he felt the lose of her in his life, I had to laugh because Claire had never really been in his life, they were never together often enough to communicate or actually even enjoy each others company as I have said before. Bed was the only place they seemed to come together as a whole. Get this book at your library.

6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Very good but...
By bluecrush611
I really enjoyed this book because it was suspenseful and had great romance, but there were a couple things that drove me crazy. Once again, it had the traditional, super happy ending which you can expect in all of her books. The part that made me most frustrated was when they were in the middle of a fight and he had just said some really horrible things to her. If it was me, I would have walked away and denied him anything until he came to his senses and apologized. Instead, he bounds up the stairs, kisses her and takes her to bed. I had to put the book down and take some deep breaths before continuing because I was so angry. I think a slap across the face would have been more appropriate in that situation. Later, he makes some comment like "if you were a better wife, then I wouldn't have to think about that other woman while we make love." OH MY GOSH....that would have called for a punch instead of a slap I think...but that's just my opinion. Hopefully I haven't spoiled anything for anyone, but honestly I would still recommend this book. Just don't take it as appropriate behavior in a marriage...strangers or not.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Disappointing
By Amazon Customer
I frequently read romance novels and picked up this one because the story seemed intriguing. Unfortunately, the high points of this book(the discussion of her dresses and the three sex scenes), did not make up for the lack of continuity in character development and plot. It seemed as though Palmer contradicted herself on nearly every other page which made the book both confusing and annoying to read. In addition, the male lead spent nearly the entire book in love with another woman and was not likable in the least. I skimmed the last 100 pages because I simply couldn't take the shoddy writing. What a waste of $14.

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* Fee Download Tracker's Sin (Hell's Eight), by Sarah McCarty

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Before his trade became his name, "Tracker" Ochoa was a scrawny mestizo runaway. Now as fearsome as he once was frightened, he's joined the notorious Hell's Eight…and they have a job for him.

He must rescue kidnapped heiress Ari Blake and deliver her safely to the Hell's Eight compound—by any means necessary. Turns out that includes marrying her, if he means to escort her and her infant daughter across the Texas territory. Tracker hadn't bargained on a wife—especially such a fair, blue-eyed beauty. But the pleasures of the marriage bed more than make up for the surprise.

Tracker's well-muscled body and dark, dangerous eyes are far more exciting than any of Ari's former debutante dreams. In the light of day, though, his deep scars and brooding intensity terrify her. But with the frontier against them and mercenary bandits at their heels, her fearsome husband may be the only protection she's got.

• Sales Rank: #939753 in Books
• Published on: 2011-10-25
• Released on: 2011-10-25
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .90" w x 4.21" l, .35 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 352 pages

About the Author
Before becoming a full-time writer, Sarah McCarty traveled extensively. She would bring a pencil and paper with her to sketch out her stories and, in the process, discovered the joy of writing. Today, Sarah is the New York Times bestselling author of more than a dozen novels, including the award-winning Hell’s Eight series, and is best known for her historical and paranormal romance novels. You can contact Sarah through her website at www.SarahMcCarty.net.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
April 5, 1858

Dear Ari,

I don't know how to start this letter, except to say thank God you're alive.

So much has happened in the last year. Not all of it good, but some of it so special, there aren't words to describe it. I'm married. Happily so, to a man of whom Papa would never have approved. He doesn't have money, doesn't have social position, and doesn't care a fig about mine, but he is everything I never dreamed big enough to desire when we used to sit under the apple tree imagining the perfect husband. A heart that knows no limits, a sense of honor that can't be compromised, and a love for me so rich, I'll never be poor. He's Hell's Eight, and if you're still living in the Texas territory when this letter finds you, you know what that means. If not, you're in for a treat. The men of Hell's Eight are a breed apart. A standard on which to build legends, for all they'll scoff at you if you tell them so.

My husband's name is Caine Allen, and he's the one insisting I write this letter. He believes in family and in my intuition, and though everyone says you're dead, he says my gut feeling is good enough for him, and he's promised finding you will be Hell's Eight's number one priority. He can be high-handed at times, but in the best ways.

I'm sorry I can't introduce you to the man handing you this letter, but you see, I've made seven copies and entrusted them to seven different men: Tucker, Sam, Tracker, Shadow, Luke, Caden and Ace. Like my husband, they're Hell's Eight and I'm asking you to put yourself in their care because each one of them has made a promise to me, one they've sworn to uphold.

They've promised to bring you home, Ari. Home to Hell's Eight, where there's no past, no recriminations, no judgment, just peace and a place where you can breathe easily. After what we've been through, I know it sounds like a preacher's description of heaven, elusive and unreal. But I promise you there is a way out of hell and if you haven't already found it, I'll help you.

Trust no one but them, Ari, because Father's solicitor, Harold Amboy, is the one who arranged for us to be ambushed initially, and he has men hunting for you, too. He intends to control Father's money through one of us. But you can trust any of these men. Absolutely and completely, with everything you hold dear.

I'm crying as I write this. I can't imagine what you've been through. I can't forget how we parted. My nightmares, which must have been your reality. The sense of helplessness as I stare at the night sky, wondering if you can see the same stars, wondering if you're healthy, happy, and most of all safe.

Do you remember the game we used to play as children when things didn't go our way? How we'd find a patch of daisies dappled in sunlight, link our hands in our special way and then just spin until we didn't care about anything else? I so want to see you again, Ari, find a patch of daisies, grab hands and spin until laughter takes over and all the bad falls away. Though it's irrational, because I have no idea how long it will take the men to find you—days, months, years—I have to say this.

Hurry home, Ari. I've planted a patch of daisies and it's waiting.

"So you're going after her?"

Tracker nodded in response to his twin brother's question, then yanked the square knot tight on the rawhide, securing his bedroll to the back of the saddle. Desi's letter to Ari rustled in his pocket, a subtle prod.

Tin rattled against tin as Shadow stuffed his plate and cup into his saddlebags. "We've got a better lead," he said, pointing out the obvious for the second time since they'd set up camp the night before. "The Saransens down Cavato way actually have a blond woman confirmed, living in town."

Tracker looked at Shadow. It was like gazing in the mirror. His twin had the same height, same broad shoulders, the same sharp planes to his face that lent a cruel edge to his expression. The latter came from their father. The only softness in his face was that full mouth, a gift from their Mexican mother. The same deep brown eyes with the cynical edge that came from knowing everything had a price.

Tracker and Shadow had learned young how to blend into the world around them so they'd be invisible to the "marks" their father wanted them to rob. A pity they'd never been able to hide from him. Tracker jerked the knot again, remembering the spew of bile that had rained down in insults and beatings if their father's standards weren't met.

As the older brother by twenty minutes, he'd tried his whole life to protect Shadow from the harshness of their world. He hadn't been successful. Shadow had suffered at the hands of their father. He'd suffered at the hands of the Mexican army that had wiped out their town when they were just boys. He'd suffered in the days after the massacre as he and the seven other orphaned boys had almost starved to death, searching for a place to belong. In the end, they'd made their home together, found acceptance in each other. And in the years since, those eight boys had grown into the most feared men of the Texas plains. Tracker and Shadow had family in Hell's Eight, but any respect they garnered outside the confines of Hell's Eight land they'd earned with their blood. In this country, the only respect a man held was that which he took. And he and Shadow had taken more than their fair share. "Deep thoughts, brother?"

Tracker shook off the melancholy and smiled as he slid his rifle into the scabbard. "I was thinking that Caine would be pleased with where Hell's Eight has landed."

Caine was the leader of the group that those eight starving boys had become. He'd taken them from outlaws to lawmen, and Caine's wife was the reason Tracker was on the hunt now.

"He always said we'd get strong first and then we'd get even, and damned if he didn't make that come true."

"Hard to believe we're now the ones people call on when they have trouble." Tracker still wasn't comfortable with that. He'd rather stay in the background with no ties, no expectations, handling what needed to be handled calmly and efficiently, without any notoriety.

Shadow chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, especially since we were so good at being trouble."

They had been that. Tracker had never felt so free as in those early years when they'd ridden outside the law, taking justice into their own hands, slipping in and out of the shadows, doing what needed to be done with an efficiency that would have pleased his father. But things had a way of changing, and now Hell's Eight was the law, bound somewhat by the rules of society. He grimaced. Hell, they'd gotten so damn respectable that it chafed. The bounty they'd just settled being a case in point.

He pictured again the smarmy smirk of John Kettle as he stood before the judge, hearing his not guilty verdict. The man was as guilty as sin. Tracker and Shadow had buried the bodies of the woman and child he'd killed, before they'd tracked him down. In the old days they would have just killed the son of a bitch in a quick dispensation of justice. Instead, they'd followed the law and brought him to the county seat. But while the woman and little girl were still dead, their killer was walking free, because justice had caved beneath the money and influence of John Kettle's family.

Tracker spat. "Things are changing, brother."

Shadow grunted, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "We should have just gut shot the bastard."

"Next time we will." He wasn't a man naturally given to playing by the rules, especially when they weren't working. Things might be changing, but he wasn't. He liked things clean and neat, with no messy loose ends. John Kettle was a loose end, and sooner or later Tracker would have to clean it up. The bastard killed for the pleasure it gave him. That kind of sickness inside a man only got worse, not better. He would kill again. And again. And again. Until someone stopped him.

"Amen," Shadow muttered.

A warm breeze blew up, lifting Tracker's long hair off his neck in a subtle warning. Goose bumps rose along his skin. His senses sharpened and that inner voice that so often saved his ass issued an alert. He traced the breeze's path backward. South. The sense of inevitability that had been haunting him since the day he'd met Caine's wife, Desi, increased. The woman who might be Ari was south. So was his destiny. He gripped the stock of the rifle, letting the familiar feel of the sun-warmed wood anchor him. The letter rustled. Damn, he wasn't sure he was that eager to meet what was coming.

It was too much to hope Shadow hadn't sensed the tension flowing through him. "What is it?"

Tracker didn't know what to make of the inner prodding, the overwhelming sense of destiny crashing in on him. "A feeling."

Shadow swore. Their whole lives they'd had a strange connection, strange feelings. What happened to one often was felt by the other. It had kept them alive more than once. Shadow finished tying on his saddlebags. "I'm going with you."

Tracker didn't want his twin anywhere near the disaster that had to be his destiny.

"No."

Glancing from beneath the wide brim of his black hat, Shadow said, "You may be twenty minutes older, but you don't tell me what to do."

The hell he didn't. "We made Desi a promise to find her sister."

"Yeah, so? We'll give the Cavato lead to someone else."

"Who would you suggest? Cavato is in Indian territory. It would be suicide for most men to get within ten miles of there."

"I'd say Zacharias and his men, if he weren't still stove up from that run-in with Comanches."

"They could do it."

Zacharias and his vaqueros were from Sam and Bella's ranch. Tougher men had never been bred, unless it was Hell's Eight themselves. Hells' Eight owed them a debt that could never be repaid. Zach and his men had volunteered to sacrifice themselves in a near-suicide mission, standing against Comanches to buy Tucker the time he needed to get his pregnant wife to safety. Everyone thought they'd been killed. It'd been quite a shock to have them ride up, bloody and near death, at their own funeral.

"I'll be glad when Sam's connections get us what we need to put an end to the attempts on Desi's life."

Tracker nodded. "And Ari's."

"Yeah. Amazing what men will do for money."

And Ari and Desi were worth a lot of money to someone back east. From what Sam and the rest of them had deduced, the whole family had been slated to be murdered on their trip west, but the killers had gotten greedy when they'd seen the girls. Instead of killing them, the attackers had sold them to Comanche-ros. Both girls had suffered horribly. Desi's suffering had ended when Caine had found her standing all but naked in a creek, fighting four men with that hellion spirit. But Ari's suffering probably continued.

No one knew if Ari had survived, but Desi's gut said she had, and that was enough for Hell's Eight. They each carried a letter that contained a promise to bring Ari home to her sister. And no member of Hell's Eight ever went back on a promise. None of the men really expected to find Ari breathing, except maybe Tracker. Perhaps it was because he was a twin himself and understood that strange connection between close siblings that surpassed logic. Or maybe, he admitted only to himself, it was because of something else, something deeper. But he knew Ari was alive, and he knew he would find her. The only thing in question was whether he would find her in time. Inside him a clock ticked, and lately the tick was becoming louder, as if time was running out.

He glanced south again. Ari was waiting and she needed him. He wouldn't listen to anything inside that said more than that. But he still didn't want Shadow anywhere around what his gut said was going to be his end.

"We can't afford to wait for Luke, Caden and Ace to hit the rendezvous points and pick up their messages. If the woman in Cavato is Ari, you need to get there before she's sold or stolen again."

"Yeah." Shadow's face set in that blank way that said he was accepting what he couldn't change. "And if she's not Ari?"

Tracker patted Buster's flank. "I'll do what I think best."

"Tia said if we bring home another mouth to feed who can't cook, we're not getting another biscuit for the rest of our lives."

Tracker grunted. "Then we teach them to cook on the way to Hell's Eight."

Shadow snorted and picked up his horse's reins from where they dangled to the ground. "Says the man who's always ducking the women trailing behind him."

Tracker looped the reins of his roan around the horn of his saddle. Buster lost a bit of his lazy slump. There was nothing the horse loved more than covering ground, and since he had a stride as smooth as butter, there was nothing Tracker loved more than riding him. "I don't want their gratitude."

It made him uncomfortable, made him feel like a liar. He wasn't a hero. There just wasn't much else a man could do when a woman looked at him with hope fading from her eyes as she realized he was there to save someone else, not just give her something on which to hang that hope. A ride to a safe place. A chance to start over. Not all took it, but some did. And those who did he brought home to Hell's Eight. From there they did what they wanted. Went home to family, went off to new beginnings or stayed under the group's protection. Something Shadow knew, because he'd brought just as many women to Hell's Eight as Tracker had. The difference was that the women didn't imagine themselves in love with Shadow. Tracker wished he knew the secret of keeping them at arm's length. He was getting damn tired of being the butt of jokes.

Leather creaked as Shadow swung up into the saddle. "You might as well enjoy it, since you can't escape it."

Most helpful customer reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
There is nothing I don't love about the Hell's Eight Men!
By Jane
There! Sarah McCarty does it again! An amazingly written book with her usual style, fast paced, based on a solid plot, and engaging. I would strongly recommend my fellow readers to read this series in sequence!
There is so much to love about this book. It's not as heavily erotic like her first two books for Hell's Eight. This book is more like Tucker's Claim (which I love by the way!).

One thing I enjoy about Sarah McCarty's writing is how well she develops the characters, how strong the chemistry is between the couple, and how connect the leading H/H are to characters she's written in her previous books. Snick peeks into the lives of characters in previous books are quite a treat!
Unlike so many other Romance writers, Sarah is a great story teller who focuses on more than just getting the two characters to fall in love. PLOT is always there. That's what makes her books hard to put down.

I only give this book 4 stars because Tracker's character isn't quite consistent in the middle of the book. It's a very small section where he sounded, at least to me, like someone else, not exactly....Tracker of the previous books.

But over all, I would highly recommend this book to Western Romance lovers!

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Coming home .....
By Jessica Alcazar
I don't know what it was about this book exactly, but I KNOW it was supposed to be heart-wrenching, but the writing just made it fall flat in too many places.
Tracker knew from the moment he heard about Ari that he was somehow destined to be her savoir and HEA (from his Indian spirit background) and when we finally meet Ari, the picture is painted that she also 'knew' she was destined for Tracker. The story should have been more sensual and spiritual than it was. Even when they spoke to each other, it felt chopy and forced. I still loved the story for a lot of reasons. It had love, devotion, family, growth, understanding, and of course, Ari came home not just physically, but mentally as well.
The book just didn't flow for me. Like I said, the writing was chopy and WAY too many times I would start a chapter and I would have to think ... wait, what? did time just lapse?....and it had. But it never eluded tot hat. SO You were always playing catch-up when you started each chapter as to what happened in between.
SO far I've read Caine's story and now Tracker's and I still think as a whole, the Hell's Eight concept/story will be a hit, but individually I am not impressed so far.
PS...I read them out of order because I couldn't wait to read about Ari coming come to Desi ... And I learned from that, that you can read these books on their own and they won't interfere with the flow of the Hell's Eight stories. However, I would recommend starting with the first book, Caine's Reckoning, as it tells you the most detail on the who what when where and why of 'Hell's Eight'.

3 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
A little disappointed
By RedFury
Maybe it's because I read the Promises series first (which was incredible), maybe it's because I was tired. But this book bored me more than it interested me. I found myself skimming large portions because I just didn't care. And Tracker seemed about as emotionally mature as a child. One minute, he is strong, in command, the alpha male taking his mate. The next, he is wishy washy thinking she doesn't deserve him. Turn a couple pages, and he's back to alpha male mode. The interactions between the members of Hell's Eight seemed forced and awkward, not realistic.

But let's be honest - you don't pick up a historical romance/erotica for literary merit and intellectual growth.

I'm thinking this had to be an earlier work.

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