Coming Soon!

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

Abby Marshall dreaded the dinner she was on her way to. Never before had she been grateful to be stuck in Boston rush hour traffic but whatever stalled her from meeting up with her parents and her boyfriend for dinner was fine with her. She should be at home writing her next book instead of appeasing her parents with this whimsical Monday night dinner. She was surprised they had both coordinated their schedules to even get together with her. That usually required months of advanced planning. The surprise invitation just meant her parents were up to something. What that was, Abby hadn’t a clue. But something just didn’t feel right about tonight, the way her mother called to ask her to a last-minute dinner. The Marshalls never did anything without a plan or purpose. And never last minute.

Abby’s car service driver sat patiently behind the wheel waiting for the traffic on Boston’s narrow streets to move. She gave him credit. She’d never have the patience to drive in this nightmare. Living in Boston, she relied on trains and buses to get around, even if they weren’t all that dependable. At least they got her to and from without having to sit in bumper to bumper traffic like now. The clock on her cell phone showed she was already late. She could get out here and walk the five blocks to the restaurant but being late by one minute or twenty would still earn her a lecture from her parents. Might as well stay warm and not hike the city sidewalks in three-inch heels if it wasn’t going to do her any good.

“Sorry for the delay, ma’am,” the driver said as if reading her mind. “We’re almost there.” The ride to the five-star restaurant in the heart of Boston took longer than the expected thirty minutes she had planned. Thinking she’d given herself plenty of time proved false as the evening traffic glowed with brake lights.

“I appreciate it,” she responded. No rush really.

Abby sent a quick text to her mother saying she was on her way. It was useless to do since her mother rarely looked at her phone when in a meeting or at a function and never during dinner. But she had to at least try to alert them to her tardy arrival.

Buildings along the downtown streets were beginning to decorate for Christmas. Twinkling lights hung in windows and on lampposts. Green wreaths with colorful decorations adorned some doors. Even the air outside warned of the approaching holiday season with the cold air settling in for winter. Boston had yet to see any snow, but it was still early in the season. It was only the beginning of December but the air could certainly pull off snow tonight with its chill.

Throngs of people scurried about the sidewalks, cutting across traffic to get to the other side. People in a rush to get home from work or, like her, make reservations. Everyone was bundled in winter coats and scarfs. Bicyclists weaved in and out of traffic, bundled in layers of clothing against the elements. Musicians played on corners offering boxes at their feet to collect donations. Smoke billowed from restaurant roof vents, rising up into the night sky. Horns blared incessantly as red lights changed with no movement in traffic. Abby settled in the backseat, patiently waiting as the time ticked by.

As promised, they finally arrived at the restaurant in downtown Boston. Stepping from the car, her heels clacked on the sidewalk. How she wished she had worn her nice warm boots instead but the heels would prevent a lecture from her mother about the proper shoes for a skirt. Abby had spent painful hours carefully assembling her wardrobe for tonight in the hopes she’d please her mother and not receive unsolicited advice on how to dress as a twenty-six-year-old. The black knee length skirt and silver silk blouse had been gifts from her mother last year. What better time to wear them than now since it would be odd for her mother to criticize her own gifts.

Rushing into the restaurant, Abby gave her name to the hostess and brushed at her skirt to ensure she wasn’t wrinkly.

“Right this way,” the slender woman said. “Your party is waiting.”

Hopefully not too long, she thought with slight embarrassment for being late as usual. Her parents cherished promptness, something Abby never quite learned to achieve. Always fashionably late, Abby offered reasonable and honest excuses but none were ever acceptable to her parents.

The hostess showed Abby to the center of the room where her parents sat having cocktails with Ben, her boyfriend.

“Hi, Mom and Dad. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” She leaned over, giving each a peck on the cheek before moving to the chair Ben held out for her. “Thank you, Ben.” She pecked his cheek too since he looked like he expected it. Removing her coat, she passed it to Ben and sat. Ben hung her coat on a rack on the side of the room and returned to the table.

Impeccably dressed in an Italian suit and tie, Ben looked like a mini version of her father. Style was extremely important to her parents and they always looked professional. Her mother wore a tailored navy blue pantsuit with a simple strand of pearls which Abby recognized as her great-grandmother’s. With her dyed dark blond hair in an elegant twist and makeup light but noticeable, her mother looked much younger than she was. An air of dignity swirled around her.

“I’m so glad you were finally able to join us, Abby,” her mother began. “We were beginning to get worried.”

“I’m sorry. I sent you a text to give you a heads up that I was running late.”

Her mother stared at her. “A head’s up? Really, your language. You speak as if you didn’t go to the finest schools,” she said with that all too familiar disappointed tone. “And you know I don’t have my phone out when with company. That’s plain rude.” The woman always sported the best manners with the coldest demeanor.

 “Just couldn’t get through the traffic,” Abby said softly, knowing it was a lost cause to justify her tardiness.

Her father frowned, looking at her with cool brown eyes. “Lived in Boston your whole life. Seems you should know how to deal with traffic and plan accordingly. We arrived on time.” His grey suit jacket was unbuttoned but his tie was perfectly straight and his dress shirt wrinkle free, even at the end of the work day. Abby didn’t need to look to know her father would be wearing expensive Italian leather shoes with dress socks the perfect match to his suit.

Abby gritted her teeth. Was this how the entire night would be? Getting lectured and scolded by her overbearing parents?

“Well, enough of that, Randolph,” her mother injected, her words calming from the ridicule of a moment ago. “We’re all here now so let’s have a fabulous dinner. Ben was good enough to suggest we get together tonight,” she continued with an unusual excitement in her tone.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Marshall. You know how much I enjoy your company,” Ben said, reaching to pat Abby’s hand and flash her a wide smile of unnaturally white teeth.

As much as Abby had tried to see a future with Ben, she just couldn’t. It had been six months since her and Ben had started dating after being introduced by none other than her parents. They made no secret of their desire to have their only daughter wed into a desirable, socially connected family and they did everything in their power to make it happen. Ben was sweet enough and intelligent, having graduated top of his Harvard Law School class. On track to becoming an assistant district attorney, Ben was the exact partner her parents wanted for her. He was handsome with his five eleven frame trim and toned. Always groomed perfectly with short brown hair and clean shaven, light on the cologne, heavy on the style, Ben would make any woman a great husband. Just not Abby.

She didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t Ben. Her career was all that mattered to her right now and that was unravelling thanks to a writer’s block that had haunted her these past months. It didn’t make sense. She never had a problem writing before. Writing was her escape, her passion.

Abby ordered a merlot when the waitress returned to take their dinner orders. This was too awkward sitting here with the man she had planned to break up with and her parents who would be devastated once she did. Her best friend, Suzy, was right. Better to get it over with before the holidays got into full swing. And she would’ve done it this week had this impromptu dinner not been called. It was completely unlike her parents to accept a last-minute invitation but when her mother called and insisted they meet for dinner tonight, Abby knew something was up. She just couldn’t put her finger on it yet, but there was something different about her parents tonight, the way they both wore smiles and talked light conversation instead of politically charged debates.

When their dinner was served, the conversation turned to include Abby. “Your father’s law firm has chosen a date for their annual holiday party,” her mother said. “You and Ben, of course, will be on the invite list. We’ll go gown shopping.”

Just like that, her mother planned her life. Never asked if she could make an event, just assumed she would because that’s what her parents expected. “I will look at my calendar, Mother, and let you know if I can make it.”

A confused expression covered her mother’s porcelain face. “What do you mean if? Of course, you’ll make it. And my firm’s party as well, although we have yet to choose a date, but I should know by next week.” With both mother and father as lawyers, Abby never won arguments.

“If I’m available then I’ll come,” Abby said trying to push back against her mother’s insistence.

Her mother leaned toward her, whispering as if the men couldn’t hear. “Why must you be so difficult?”

“Not being difficult, Mother. It would just be nice to be asked and not told to do something. I’m an adult. You need to respect that,” Abby said, pushing her plate away unable to eat another bite in this company.

“Joyce, let it be for now,” her father said in a hushed tone before turning to Ben and Abby. “Let’s just enjoy our dinner. We can discuss the holiday party plans another time. Tonight, we’re here for a pleasant evening.”

Ben and her father exchanged glances causing Abby to take notice and wonder what that was all about. But she really didn’t care. She just wanted the dinner to be over so they could leave and the hostile conversations end.

They finished the rest of their meals in silence. Once the wait staff cleared their dishes and poured them coffee, the mood lightened, but Abby still glanced at her phone praying for the time to hurry up and pass.

“Abby, there’s a special reason I wanted to have dinner with you and your parents tonight,” Ben began, looking from her to her parents and back to her. “I apologize to all for the last-minute notice, but I was waiting on something to make tonight special and it finally arrived today.”

Uh oh. She didn’t like the sound of his voice, the dreamy look in his eyes, the complete attention of her parents, as if they knew something she didn’t.

“No apology necessary, Ben. We completely understand,” her father said, a little too kind and completely out of his nature.

Abby needed privacy. “Ben, maybe we should go talk alone. There’s something I need to tell you,” Abby said, trying to escape the table, not wanting to discuss her relationship in front of her parents.

“And there’s something I need to tell you, Abby,” Ben continued like his words were more important. “I know we’ve only been dating six months, but it’s been an incredible six months.”

“It has?” she asked, wondering how he thought that. They rarely did anything fun. It was always political parties or fundraisers. Anything to network. Their dates never truly felt romantic or even like a date.

“Yes, my darling, it has. And that’s why I know we are meant to be together.” He pulled a ring box from his jacket and her stomach lurched.

Oh no. “Stop, Ben,” Abby said, her hand on his arm to prevent him from kneeling or opening the box. “Don’t do this.”

Her mother gasped.

Ben looked flustered, redness covering his neck. “Abby, I’m trying to propose.”

So he thought he needed to mansplain to her what his intentions were at this moment? That proved he was not the one for her.

“I don’t want you to propose, Ben,” she said, refusing to glance in her parents’ direction knowing both would be frowning with mortification. “We’ve never talked marriage. We’ve never talked anything serious.”

“I am ready to marry you, Abby.”

Her head was spinning. How did she not figure his plan out with the way her parents were acting, coming to a last-minute dinner and making googly eyes with Ben? “No. I won’t marry you, Ben.” Abby sighed, shaking her head. “You should have discussed this with me in private.”

“He spoke to your mother and me. Was the perfect gentleman and asked for my daughter’s hand the proper way,” her father said quite upset, his deep voice enveloping the table.

Abby squared her shoulders. “He needed to speak to me.”

Ben quietly put the box back in his jacket pocket. “I guess I had us all wrong.”

“Ben, it’s only been six months.” She looked around at the other couples enjoying a cozy dinner by candlelight. What a contrast to what was happening at her table. “I am not looking to get married any time soon. In fact, I was planning to break up with you.”

Ben flinched. “Wow, that’s unexpected.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, Ben. But I’m not the woman for you. She’s out there, but she’s not me.”

Ben stood. “Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, if you’ll excuse me.” He left Abby to face her parents’ disappointment which they made no attempt to hide.

“This has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done, Abby. You’re throwing your life away,” her mother complained, shock covering her face.

“I am not. I have a successful career that requires my attention.”

Her mother snapped. “Oh, come on, Abby. You write romance novels. You don’t have a career.”

Rolling her eyes, Abby took a deep breath. “I’m not going to argue with you on the merits of my career, Mother. You can’t stand that I won’t consider entering the corporate world as you’ve suggested so many times. I love what I do. I am a successful, award-winning author.”

“Of romance novels,” her father reiterated.

Her face flushed with hurt on how they’d never respect her ambitions. “Yes, that’s correct. With a very promising future.”

“Ben was offering you a promising future,” her father said, motioning for the check.

“That’s just it,” Abby said standing. “I don’t need anyone to offer me a future. I can make a future on my own, how I want to live.”

“I just don’t understand you, Abby,” her mother said in that stern business tone she’d heard her whole life. “First, you throw away an Ivy League education to write fantasy. Then you reject a perfect gentleman who would make a great husband. I don’t know where your father and I went wrong with you.”

They quickly got their coats and exited the restaurant. Her father handed the valet his ticket.

Her mother turned to her while putting on her leather gloves. “I hope you realize, after the stunt you pulled tonight, that Ben is gone for good. You’ve embarrassed him and us. Your behavior is an abomination.”

“I could say the same,” Abby said, feeling hurt and bullied all at once. Her parents were exhausting. “Ben should have spoken to me first not blindsided me. I have a right to have a say in my life.”

The valet pulled up with their car. Her father slipped cash into the young man’s hand, kissed Abby’s cheek with no emotion and held the door for his wife. “Get home safely,” he ordered before walking to the driver’s door and slipping inside.

Abby watched them drive away, feeling emotionally drained but free. She had no regrets about her decisions this evening and wouldn’t allow her mother and father to brow beat her into a marriage she didn’t want.

Standing on the sidewalk, the cold wind biting her legs in that skirt, Abby flagged taxicabs until one finally stopped.

The ride home was lonely, disappointing, but gave her time to think. The night had turned into a disaster. Her and Ben just weren’t compatible. She did the right thing by stopping his proposal. And her parents had no right to act like her career was inferior and meaningless because it didn’t live up to their warped standards. She had loyal readers. Her readers enjoyed her books. The four-star reviews said so. The fan mail said so. The tweets and social media posts said so. Her followers said so. And her readers appreciated a good love story with a happy ending, something she delivered in all of her books.

There may never be a happy ending for Abby, she thought, stepping out of the cab and walking into her apartment. Once she had changed out of her clothes and into her comfy sweatpants and T-shirt, she picked up her cell to call Suzy to give an update on the disastrous night. Even Suzy, with her keen instincts, couldn’t have predicted how tonight would go.

“Oh, my God, are you kidding me?” Suzy screamed causing Abby to hold the phone away from her ear until her friend’s voice returned to normal tone.

“Not kidding.”

“What did the ring look like?”

She didn’t even want to know. “I don’t know. I never let him open the box.”

“Wow. Stopping a proposal,” she said with an air of girl power and pride. “I think you did the right thing. We already discussed this, honey. He wasn’t your soulmate.”

Abby chuckled. “Soulmate. Do they even exist?”

“Of course they do,” Suzy said with her usual enthusiasm for romance.

“The romance writer in me believes so, but the woman in me is pretty doubtful right now,” Abby said, staring at her laptop sitting across the room on her kitchen table. “No wonder why I can’t write romance. How can I when romance eludes me?”

“Oh, sweetie. We’ll fix that. We’ll have a girl’s night out. Find a nice man for you.”

Abby laughed at Suzy always looking on the brighter side. “I think I’m done with men for now, Suzy. But I do have a deadline looming for this next book that I haven’t even started.” She sighed before continuing. “It’s time I tackled my writer’s block.”

“I agree. How do you plan to do that?”

Abby thought for a moment. “I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time. Tomorrow I’m going to find a place to rent for December and go into seclusion to hammer out this book.” 

Suzy gasped. “What? You mean I won’t see you for an entire month? At Christmas time?”

“We’ll figure something out for Christmas. But, Suzy, I need to get away. I need a fresh place to write. If I miss this deadline my career is toast and that’ll prove my parents’ point that I don’t have a serious career.”

“I understand. Anything I can do, Abby, you know I will.”

“I know. I will keep you updated. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said before disconnecting.

Sitting at her desk, she opened her laptop. Getting out of Boston for the month would be exciting. She’d go north where she could be snowed in to write. She needed cozy and quiet.

****

After a restless sleep and her second cup of coffee, Abby spent the morning hours searching for a short-term rental in New Hampshire. She wanted to cry. Every bed and breakfast or lodge in New Hampshire and Maine were already filled up for the holiday season. Her plans to retreat north to work were quickly falling apart.

In desperation, she emailed a few lodges to inquire about waiting lists. To her disappointment, replies came fast confirming the lodges were fully booked for the month with no vacancies and no waiting lists.

She’d just have to expand her search to Vermont which would be further away but her options were limited. Surely, she’d find something.

Just as she was closing her laptop to take a break, her email chimed indicating a new message. Probably spam. But she looked anyways and her heart stopped.

“Snowfall Lodge in Magnolia, New Hampshire just had a cancellation. We will hold room for one hour. If you’re still interested, call us immediately. Dylan Butler, Owner.” 

Abby clapped her hands, grabbed her cell and dialed. “Yes, this is Abby Marshall for Dylan Butler. I’m calling about the vacancy he just emailed me about.”

“This is Dylan and that certainly shattered records for the fastest response. I just hit send,” the man with a friendly voice said on the other end.

“You don’t understand how important this is. I’ll take the room for as long as it’s available this month.”

“It can be yours until December thirty-first, Ms. Marshall,” the man said.

“Okay, great.” She quickly read her credit card number. Jotting down her confirmation number, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Butler.”

“Dylan. And you’re very welcome. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up her cell and texted Suzy immediately. 

“Found a room in Magnolia, NH. Leave tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated on my progress. Hugs!” After adding some happy emojis, she hit send.

It was December second. That gave her about three and a half weeks to work on her novel with no interruptions. No distractions.

Her laptop chimed again and her email held her confirmation receipt. Fast service. She liked that.

She now had her reservation. She may be newly single, but she was going to find her inner romance and get this book written. Writing wasn’t only her career. It was her life.

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

Sarina Hampton was doing her best to not draw attention to herself by clinging to the wall of the art gallery. Sipping a flute of champagne, she knew all eyes would be on her tonight after the scandalous party last weekend where she was photographed after slipping in the hotel fountain at her dad’s re-election campaign fundraiser.

She had tossed a coin in like everyone else. But unlike everyone else, her diamond tennis bracelet chose that moment to come loose and follow the coin into the fountain. Unable to reach the bracelet from the edge of the fountain, Sarina was forced to remove her heels and tip toe into the coin laden fountain to retrieve the expensive piece of jewelry that was very sentimental, having been given to her by her grandmother. It should have been a quick and easy task, with only minor repercussions from the press who took delight in her unfortunate circumstance and photographed her every move.

But nothing was ever quick and easy for Sarina. With bracelet in hand, she turned to walk back to the granite wall to exit the fountain and lost her footing. The slipperiness of the fountain floor caught her off guard and before she knew it she had fallen on her butt in the water, dress ruined, humiliated and camera flashes surrounding her.

It came as no surprise that she graced the front page of every New York newspaper the next morning, lying in a fountain, soaked with streaks of mascara running down her face. Every newspaper had fun with their headlines.

“Senator’s daughter at it again.”

“Socialite goes for a swim.”

“Party girl entertains at daddy’s fundraiser.”

Sarina had been in seclusion all week since that fateful night, wanting to give the newspapers time to find another headline and forget about her. Sarina was never going to live down the reputation that the press forged for her. Party girl. Spoiled brat. Bored Senator’s daughter. She was not any of those but the media couldn’t sell papers writing about a politician’s adult daughter who was good. Scandals sold papers. And Sarina just so happened to always find her way into a scandal. 

Tonight was another fundraiser. It seemed they never stopped. But her father’s Senate race had heated up, mainly thanks to bad press coverage of her and her unfortunate luck. Being present at this fundraiser would show her resolve to face her problems and support her father. And she intended to stay out of the spotlight and clinging to the wall while others mingled suited her just fine.

The world-renowned art gallery situated in the heart of Manhattan had gone through extraordinary lengths to deliver an evening that showcased the works of famous artists while providing her father the opportunity to solicit the millionaires in attendance for campaign donations and support. There were even murmurs of her father having potential to run for President of the United States someday.

Nothing could go wrong at this event, her father had warned. Tired of defending herself for false accusations, Sarina was determined to keep to herself until the evening was over. 

Coming toward her, smirk on his face, was the reporter from the national gossip magazine who had harassed her for the past six months, using her scandals to boost his career. Once a no name freelance reporter, Rex’s photos and stories now fetched huge money in bidding wars between the top gossip magazines in the U.S. She arched her back, ready to face him head on like the predator he was.

“Sarina, always good to see you,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Plastering a smile on her face, she spoke calmly. “Wish I could say the same. You shouldn’t be here, Rex. This is a private invitation only event.” He may be dressed in a suit and tie instead of his regular cut jeans and T-shirt, but clothes did not make a man all of the sudden become a nice person.

With his pudgy fingers, Rex wiggled a press pass hanging around his neck. “Seems my employer paid dearly for my attendance.”

She mentally counted to ten, not wanting him to get under her skin. “Well, then, you make sure you enjoy yourself, get your employer’s money’s worth.”

As she stepped around him to walk away, he maneuvered to the right, blocking her escape. “I thought we could spend a few minutes catching up, Sarina.”

She laughed, keeping a forced smile on her face not knowing who was watching. “Why, Rex, dear, you act like we’re friends or something.”

His hand covered his heart. “Aren’t we? You’d break my heart if you said otherwise.”

She rolled her eyes. “As I’ve told you a hundred times before, I have nothing to say to you. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Stepping to the other side, she tried to move away from the pushy reporter. Again, he blocked her exit. She tried to step to the other side and he continued his cat and mouse game. Refusing to play any more of his games, she twirled around leaving her back to him. Instead of having a clear path to freedom, she bumped into an elderly woman speaking with a small group. The woman lost her footing and stumbled backwards as Sarina and two elderly men reached for her to stop her fall. One of the men was successful in grabbing the woman’s hand and kept her from falling. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough to keep the woman from bumping into a marble pedestal holding a ceramic bust.

The large eloquent bust of a mermaid, teetered on the pedestal as Sarina’s eyes popped. The room hushed as all eyes watched the scene unfold.

Nothing could go wrong at this event. Her father’s words rang in Sarina’s ears. With the expensive bust teetering dangerously on the edge, Sarina rushed forward. The bust fell from the pedestal as Sarina dove to catch it, ending up splayed out on the floor in her gown with shards of the bust and her champagne glass broken around her. A collective gasp from the room told Sarina all that she needed to know. She’d be tomorrow’s headline. Again.

Some gentlemen rushed to her side to help her up. Thanking them quietly, she brushed her dress off, unable to hold her head up. She knew what she’d see. Everyone staring at her, whispering about her, judging her.

She faced the woman she had bumped into who was visibly shaken. “I’m so sorry,” Sarina whispered and walked away. She kept her pace slow, even as her feet wanted to run. One glance across the room showed her father watching her, his assistant talking in his ear. Her father didn’t look angry. Angry she could deal with, just let him rant a little. No, he looked disappointed. She’d much rather he be angry than disappointed.

Two of her father’s staff members joined her and escorted her from the building to a waiting limo. The limo would take her to her parents’ home where they would try to do damage control. It was a routine she was all too familiar with. Sarina leaned her head back and ignored the two staff members who huddled across from her devising their plans to tackle yet another one of her scandals.

Why did this always happen to her?

****

Sarina had been wrong. Her father wasn’t just disappointed, he was angry. Senator Theodore Hampton prided himself in always having complete control over his emotions. You wouldn’t be able to tell that now by the way he paced the floor, speaking his mind about the disaster at the art gallery.

“For once, Sarina, I would like to have an evening without you ending up as the next day’s headline,” her father scolded. His six-foot-three frame was lean and trim for his age, with thick gray hair impeccably styled and held in place with hair gel. His sky blue eyes bore into her with a determined glare. Furrowed eyebrows highlighted thin wrinkles on his otherwise flawless skin as she faced his scrutiny.

Sarina stood staring at her father. “I told you, Daddy, there was a reporter harassing me. He wouldn’t let me pass. He’s who you should be angry with, not me.”

Her father grabbed his forehead, other hand resting on his hip. “Oh, Sarina, stop with the excuses. Us Hamptons must deal with the media every day. Yes, they can be a nuisance but that’s no reason to nearly knock over an elderly woman and destroy a very expensive piece of art.”

“Not just any woman, Senator Hampton,” his assistant, Ned Bernake, pointed out. “But from one of New York’s wealthiest families. One that I was about to close a major donation to the campaign,” he said, turning to glare at Sarina.

Ned was tall and lanky and a total suck up to her father, doing his bidding without ever a question. The man would be handsome with his clean cut short brown hair and matching eyes if it weren’t for his snarky attitude, always prevalent when Sarina was the topic.

Ignoring Ned, she spoke to her father. “Daddy, you act like I did that on purpose. All I did was turn from the reporter to walk the other way and accidently bumped into the woman. It was an accident.” She took a steadying breath. “And I tried to save the bust. And what did it get me? Nothing but grief.”

“I’ll tell you what it got you,” he father said. “Tomorrow’s headline on every newspaper in the state. For the second time in a week!”

“I told you I shouldn’t have gone tonight.”

“And, if you didn’t, it would appear that we were hiding you out of embarrassment.”

“Sounds like that’s what you should do. Hide me to keep from embarrassing you anymore,” Sarina said, exhausted and tired of feeling embattled.

Ned got a delirious look on his face, like he was up to something. What was going on in that mind of his?

“That’s perfect,” Ned said, like he’d discovered world peace. “We will hide Sarina.”

Hide Sarina? “What are you talking about, Ned?” she asked, mystified as to where he was going with this.

“Senator, it would be best to keep Sarina from exposing herself to anymore unfortunate incidents.”

“Now that’s an understatement,” the senator said.

“To do that, we get her out of the city for a while,” Ned said, like the plan was unfolding as he spoke. “Staying in New York will only keep her in the spotlight and onto the next inevitable scandal.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Sarina said in her defense. “I don’t look for trouble, Ned.”

“No, it just has an easy time finding you,” he replied and continued talking to her father. “Sarina takes a few weeks out of the city, somewhere the press won’t find her and no one will really know who she is.”

“Where? The moon?” the senator asked, sarcastically. If he was being sarcastic then he was indeed fed up with the situation.

“Even better,” Ned said with a wide smile. “Vermont.”

“Vermont?” Sarina and her father said in unison.

Ned answered his cell phone and quickly ended the conversation. “That was a close source who just saw tomorrow’s papers. The stories say Sarina’s daddy will write a check to get her out of the mess. It’s as bad as we expected. Being election time, Senator, you can’t afford any more problems from Sarina, whether they’re her fault or not.”

“Why Vermont?” the senator asked.

“I have family, a cousin, who owns a dairy farm in a small town. He has plenty of room to host Sarina for a few weeks. We pay him well and it will solve our problems.”

“A dairy farm,” Sarina said, hands on her hips. “What am I going to do on a dairy farm?”

“Hopefully stay out of trouble,” her father said.

“We really have no other options other than to keep the press from getting to Sarina,” Ned explained. “Vermont is beautiful this time of year. There’s the foliage and harvest time. And most of all, privacy.”

Ned looked like he was enjoying this way too much, planning her exile to a dairy farm to be rid of her.

Sarina spoke up hoping to rely on reasoning to stop this madness. “Daddy, I am not going to Vermont. I will stay and face the controversy and move past it.”

“Move past it?” her father asked, his voice strong. “Until when? Your next controversy? You’re twenty-seven years old, Sarina. People expect more. No, Ned is right. We need to get you out of the city. Immediately. And it should look like it was already scheduled and not a reaction to tonight.”

“But, Daddy-”

“Sorry, Sarina. It’s for the best. Think of it as a mini vacation. My political rivals are eating this up and taking time and attention away from real issues. I need to focus on the campaign and not on putting out fires started by your escapades.”

Her mother entered the room in a whirlwind of concern. “Sarina, are you alright?” Beverly Hampton was a force of glamour and sophistication, something both her parents wished had worn off on Sarina. While Sarina inherited her mother’s beauty, she failed miserably in the sophistication section through no fault of her own. Beverly Hampton was always in control of her emotions. Her slender figure kept its shape through vigorous exercise and healthy eating habits and boasted an emerald evening gown sequined to light up a room. Long blond hair swept up in a fanciful style matched Sarina’s, although Sarina suspected her mother had help from artificial means now that she was aging. Still, the woman stood a picture of perfection with her golden brown eyes holding sorrow and concern.

Sarina allowed her mother to smother her in an embrace. “Yes, I am fine.”

“I would have left with you, but your father thought it was best that I stay behind to see our guests off.” She turned to her husband, her height inches shorter than him even with stiletto heels. “Theodore, I think I calmed many people’s fears tonight. You’ll be getting personal phone calls in the coming days from attendees wanting to further discuss the campaign.”

Her mother’s sweet demeanor could calm any situation. For a politician’s wife, she had the unusual reputation of being honest and caring, two attributes that went a long way in the high-class circles of New York’s political world.

“Thank you, Beverly,” he replied, giving her a light kiss on her cheek.

Ned spoke up. “Senator, if you want I will phone my cousin right now and make the necessary arrangements.”

“Yes, make the arrangements for her to arrive first thing in the morning.”

Ned dialed his cell, stepping from the room.

“What’s this?” Beverly asked, looking from Ned to her husband.

“Daddy wants to hide me away in Vermont.”

Beverly’s hand covered her heart. “Theodore, is that really necessary?”

“It is. For her own good as well as the campaign’s. It’s only for a few weeks until the election is over. You can’t keep coddling her, Beverly. Actions have consequences and, quite frankly, I’m tired of those consequences damaging my campaign.”

Her mother took a moment to contemplate her father’s words. She may voice her opinion from time to time but rarely strayed from what her husband decided.

Grasping Sarina’s hands, Beverly spoke in a quiet voice. “Sarina, I know the situation isn’t ideal, but your father is right. I believe you that the reporter was antagonizing you tonight and this was a huge accident. But you will remain the focus of these deviants until the election is over. So, take this time away to relax, focus on yourself and when you come back, you’ll see this has all blown over and you can start fresh.”

Her mother’s voice of reason always made sense. It comforted Sarina in ways she couldn’t explain. Her mother was probably the one person who truly believed Sarina was jinxed with bad luck and wrong-place-wrong-time syndrome.

Sarina sighed, accepting the plan as the best option to put this all behind her. She could handle a few weeks in a small town embracing anonymity. She would treat it like being undercover, taking time off from being in the spotlight with everyone knowing who she was, who her family was.

“Sarina, you’re not to tell anyone where you are. Tell your friends that you’re on a much needed spiritual retreat to refocus your passions in life.”

Her friends were too nosy to believe any of that.

Ned walked back into the room. “Senator, we’re all set. Jack will be expecting her first thing in the morning. Since it’s a six hour drive we should get her on the road within the hour.”

“Six hour drive?” she complained. “I need time to pack. Why are we not taking a flight?”

“Ah, there’s no airport anywhere close to my cousin’s house. Much easier to drive.”

“For who? I don’t want to be stuck in a car for six hours.”

“Sarina, you will cooperate in all aspects of this plan or I’ll cut off your money, credit cards, everything.”

Well, that hardly seemed fair. “Daddy, I said I’ll do this so no need to bully me. I need to pack.”

“We’ll have a driver bring you to Cattlebury,” Ned explained. “This way we ensure you arrive without further incidents. I’ve arranged for a rental car to be left at the farm for your arrival. It’s necessary to have a vehicle in Vermont since nothing is in walking distance. This time of year can be colder than New York so you will want to bring appropriate attire.”

Sarina glared at him as she walked to the stairs. “Ned, why don’t you be appropriate and make yourself invisible?”

Ned smiled like he’d won a battle. “Be ready by one.”

One in the morning traveling to Vermont. Good grief. Sarina trudged up the stairs, holding her gown to not trip. At least she had a driver so she could sleep on the way there. And she planned to sleep the entire time she was in Vermont, waking up when it was time to come home.

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

Mia Conti was finally home. Finally, where she belonged. Arriving on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina was the end of a long ride that began in New York City and now ended with a chance at a new life. She drove the palmetto tree lined streets, opened the windows to smell the ocean tinged air. A flock of pelicans flew overhead as Mia strained to see them out of her windshield. They were a lot bigger than the pigeons that called New York City home.

Mia followed the narrow streets, turning when she was supposed to and admiring the architecture as she drove. Well maintained homes came in every size from large to small, multiple stories to ranches. Each was surrounded by artfully landscaped lots that soaked up the sun. Having visited the island many times and fallen in love from the moment she stepped off the small plane at the island’s one airport, it was a no brainer that she should choose Hilton Head to set down roots and build a business. Her own destiny she controlled.

When her GPS signaled she had arrived at her destination, the device had no idea just how true its words were. Her destination was a rented one-bedroom cottage in a quiet part of the island with private beach access. Here she would have a fresh start, follow her heart, begin a new chapter in her life.

Parking in the small driveway, she turned off her engine, glad that the fifteen hours of driving were now behind her and she could get out of this vehicle. Stepping out of the SUV, Mia stretched her tired arms and legs, squinting against the early afternoon sun, as her muscles cried out to her. What she wouldn’t give to have a spa day with a massage right now.

The small cottage was welcoming with its large windows and a front porch made for sitting out on a pleasant evening. Mia hoped she would have time to enjoy the porch once the winery was up and running. The home was surrounded by loads of flowers just like the ones she saw at other homes on the drive up. A warm breeze blew from the water’s direction carrying with it the sound of seagulls. Mia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, appreciating the tranquility of the moment. This she needed. This peacefulness. Nature’s beauty at its best.

Walking to the nearby main house, Mia followed the instructions her rental agent had given her twenty minutes earlier after she’d signed her lease and gave the rest of her deposits. She was to pick up the house keys from the owners, the O’Sullivan’s, who lived next door from her, since they were eager to meet her and wanted to provide her with a proper welcome. What exactly was a proper welcome?

Mia wanted to collect the keys and get inside to see the home she’d be renting at least for the next year. She had only seen pictures online but, nevertheless, it was promising. And it came with practically everything on her wish list, decent sized kitchen, beach access, privacy, easy maintenance, great Internet signal, bath with a shower and a tub for those nights when she needed to lose herself in a sea of bubbles after a long day’s work.

Bone tired to the point her feet hardly wanted to move, Mia hoped the owners were home and could give her the keys and let her get some much-needed rest. Leaving New York last evening and driving straight through, stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks, had been a test of stamina. But Mia had been too eager to get here to take time to stop and rest. Chugging caffeine rich sodas and protein bars gave her the energy to make the drive. Having ideal weather with no storms also helped her keep to her schedule and have an event free drive.

Mia Followed the white stone path between the cottage and the main house, walking under large palmetto trees that provided exquisite shade. It was only April but the heat could already be felt, signaling summer was very close. Leaving behind New York’s rainy April with temps in the forties practically every day was another bonus in choosing a warm state like South Carolina to settle down. On the island, she was sure to enjoy her spring with weather like this.

With her hand raised, prepared to knock on the double wooden door of elegantly carved mahogany, Mia stepped back as the door swung open.

“There you are, Mia,” an older woman dressed in Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved blouse said as she motioned for Mia to enter. “Come in out of the heat, dear. Patrick, Mia is here,” she yelled over her shoulder. “I’m Erin O’Sullivan. Welcome to Hilton Head Island.” She took Mia’s hand and gave it a solid few pats before releasing it. “We’ve been over the moon awaiting your arrival.” She wore her strawberry blond hair short with bangs that suited her small round face dotted with a slight splash of freckles. The woman was as friendly as anyone Mia had ever met.

Mia stepped into an entryway with tall ceilings and walls covered in photos of oceans and boats, and family portraits.

“No need of shouting, Erin. I was right behind you,” a handsome man over six feet with thick, short white hair said with a wide smile that showed off impossibly straight teeth. “Welcome to Hilton Head, Mia. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad,” Patrick said, his height towering over his wife as he joined them. “Patrick O’Sullivan, pleasure’s all mine.” His extended hand took hers in a strong handshake that shook her entire body. 

Mia enjoyed their welcomes and bright smiles. “It was a really long ride, but I know it’ll be worth every minute now that I’m finally here and can get settled. I was told I should stop by to get the keys from you.”

Erin sort of skipped in place as if remembering something. “Oh, yes, our realtor just called and said you were all set with the paperwork. I hate paperwork to be honest. It’s such a formality. I prefer laid back,” Erin continued with a giggle, opening a drawer on a small desk off to the right and removing a set of keys. “Here you go. We just wanted to welcome you and let you know if you need anything, anything at all, you just let us know.”

Mia took the keys from Erin, enjoying the satisfaction that they were her own and this was really happening. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. O’Sullivan. I truly appreciate it.”

“Patrick and Erin are fine, sweetheart,” Erin said with another wide smile that touched her blue-green eyes.

“Heard you’ll be taking over the old Billows Winery here on the island,” Patrick said and continued when she nodded. “Well, if you ask me, it’s about time someone did. Old man Billows didn’t know the potential he had with that place. I hope you do, Mia.”

“Absolutely,” she said, swallowing a yawn that wanted so bad to come out.

Patrick crossed his arms and continued. “With the tourism we receive as well as the island’s residents, you could do very well. It’ll be good to put that place to some use.”

Mia smiled, squeezing the keys in her hand as sleep called to her. “I passed papers last month and have been getting some renovations done to be ready by the time I got here. I can’t wait to see the place.” Excitement raced through her veins every time she thought of the winery now being hers. This time she couldn’t fight the yawn, though. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m more tired than I thought,” she said, the back of her hand covering her mouth too late to hide the yawn.

“Oh, honey. Now look at us talking your ear off like we have no business to do,” Erin said, a faint Irish accent in her words. She reached behind Mia and opened the door. “You go on now and get yourself settled.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, do you need some help? Don’t let our age fool you. We’re sturdy folks and can help you haul stuff in.”

Mia smiled, thoroughly enjoying Erin’s spunky spirit. “No, I think I can manage, but thank you. Only have the suitcases and clothes for now. The rest of my stuff will be delivered during the week.”

“Very good. I hope you don’t mind, but I stocked the fridge with some essentials to hold you over until you get to the market.”

Did she mind? Mia’s heart melted and her stomach growled as if it understood food was in the very near future. “Oh, my gosh! How thoughtful. Thank you. I really appreciate that. I hope to return the favor someday.”

Erin waved her hand in the air. “Now don’t you go worrying yourself about such things. We’re all like a big family on this island. Get some rest now. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

“And holler if you need help with anything,” Patrick said as she waved bye to them and walked back along the white stone path to her home. Her home.

Unlocking the front door, she found it to be exactly like the pictures. No, even better.

Walking through the emptiness, she imagined her things and how perfectly they would fit in the rooms. With no furniture, she’d have to rough it for a few days. For now, she’d sleep in a sleeping bag and pillow until her bed arrived.

Making quick process of unloading the SUV, Mia shut the front door, kicked off her sneakers and dug through her bags until she found some shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in. In the full-sized bathroom, the tub beckoned her to draw a bath with tons of bubbles but her sleep deprived mind might cause her to drown so she’d forego that luxury for now. Splashing cool water on her face would have to suffice until she could enjoy a good soak.

Another yawn escaped her, so she made her way to the back of the house where her bedroom would be. The view of the ocean was amazing. It must be low tide because the surf was further out with whitecaps marking where the small waves crashed. The white sand soaked up the sun and, while very much inviting, would have to wait until she got some much-needed sleep. She ignored the rumble in her belly and chose sleep over sustenance, for now. Opening the windows for fresh air, she was immediately rewarded with the smell of sea and sun. Closing the curtains cloaked the room in semi-darkness. It would have to do.

Laying on her sleeping bag, Mia was asleep as soon as her eyes closed.

****

Mia awoke to the sound of seagulls and crashing waves. Shaking the sleep from her head, she sat up and looked around. The room was still dark and it took a moment for her to remember she was at her new home on Hilton Head Island. Not knowing how long she was asleep, she tossed aside her sleeping bag, stood and enjoyed a nice long stretch. The yoga classes she had taken back in New York to help with stress had really paid off. Her body was now limber and her muscles better suited to handle the long hours she’d be spending on her feet working at the winery.

She pulled open the curtains to see the tide had come in. It was still a good distance from the house but close enough that the waves made their presence known as they broke over the white sand.

Famished beyond measure, she made quick use of the bathroom to freshen up hoping to wake up further. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator to find it almost fully stocked. Her hand settled over her heart. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Erin.”

Fruits, veggies, milk, eggs, yogurt, you name it, Erin had stocked it. Making a mental note to give Erin the first bottle of wine her winery produced, Mia checked out the freezer. Frozen pizza caught her eye and that would be ideal to feed her hunger.

Opening the pizza box, Mia found a stack of paper plates and plastic utensils on the counter. Erin had thought of everything. Mia used a plate to heat the pizza in the microwave that was above the stove. The bell chiming indicated the pizza was done and Mia didn’t hesitate. She took a bite, closing her eyes and enjoying the taste. Her stomach was happy to have sustenance. 

Walking onto her porch, Mia held the remainder of the pizza, eating while looking up and down the street. The houses were spaced apart so no one lived on top of their neighbors. Everyone seemed to have a good amount of personal space. Palmetto trees lined the narrow road, not only providing shade but a soft breeze as well.

A glance at her cell phone showed it to be a little past five o’clock. Swallowing the last bite of pizza, Mia decided she couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see her winery when the fire inspection would be done to approve her final permits. She wanted to see it now, see how the renovations turned out even if her construction manager assured her everything was completed to her specifications.

Running inside, she quickly showered, loving the strong spray from the shower head. Braiding her long black hair, kept her from having to fuss with it. Locking up, she got back into the SUV, remembering all the hours she had just spent in it.

“Just a short ride,” she told herself, roaring the engine to life. “Just a short ride.”

Finding the winery was easy enough and only a short ride from the house. Mia stepped out of the truck and stood in front of the building just taking it all in. Staring back at her was the newly hung sign ‘White Sands Winery’, chosen to represent the pristine beaches of Hilton Head.

A man in his fifties stepped out of the front door carrying a large tool box. She recognized him from their previous meetings, Jerome Butler, her construction manager.

“Hello, Mia,” he said once he saw her. “Nice to see you again.” He placed the tool box down and shook her hand.

“Jerome, I can’t believe we finally meet again. And look at that sign. It’s amazing.”

“I was just doing a final walk through, make sure we’re ready for tomorrow’s inspection,” he said, looking over his shoulder before facing her again. “Everything looks ready to go.”

“That’s great,” Mia said. “I just got into town this afternoon. I wanted to stop by because I couldn’t wait to see all you’ve done.”

“Well, then let’s take a look,” he said, headed back up the few steps.

“Oh, I don’t mean to keep you, Jerome,” Mia said, running up behind him to keep up.

“Not at all.” His southern accent was very apparent as he held the door open. “I never mind showing off my work.”

Inside was better than she could ever imagine. “Oh, wow.” She stopped and stared. “Jerome. I don’t know what to say. It’s perfect. The pictures you sent just don’t do it justice.”

They stood in what would be the retail section where she would host wine tastings and private functions. The open floor plan had gleaming light brown hardwood floors, white shiplap ceilings and light grey walls. Recessed lighting provided the ambience she wanted of cozy and elegant. Large ceiling fans kept the air flowing and would be useful on warm days. A long mahogany bar sat off to the side with shelves on the wall behind it to hold wineglasses. Centered in the back of the room was a floor to ceiling stone fireplace.

All her furniture had arrived and been put in place. A long leather couch by the fireplace, tall tables with metal chairs. It was all there and came together nicely.

“Everything is picture perfect here, Jerome.” Mia fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her face with her happiness. “Just perfect.”

“Tour’s not done yet, Mia. Follow me,” Jerome instructed, bringing her back to the winery in a separate building behind the main one. “Welcome to where you’ll make your magic happen.”

The massive room had been renovated to store the oak wooden barrels used to age the red wines and the stainless steel drums for the white wines. There was an area to receive the grapes, an area for her crusher and de-stemmer machine, the fermentation area, the pressing area, and bottling and labeling area.

With her hands covering her mouth, she wanted to shout. “I’m speechless, Jerome. My family will be so jealous to see this state-of-the-art facility.” And they would be. This place beats making wine in the cellar as her father grew up doing.

“Just followed your plans, Mia. Credit is all on you,” Jerome said, standing tall and proud.

She swallowed hard. “So, does this mean we’re ready to pass the inspection tomorrow?”

“With flying colors,” Jerome said, certainty in every word.

“Okay, then. Will I see you there?” she asked, light headed from the reality that her dream was coming true.

“Absolutely. I told you when you hired me, I’d be in this with you until the end. If the fire inspector has any questions, I’ll be there to answer them. Not to worry.”

“Oh, Jerome. Thank you. Thank you.” She launched herself at him, giving him a big hug before stepping back.

“Are you all set if I head on out now?”

“Go, go,” she said, shoeing him away. “See you tomorrow.”

He hurried out, leaving her to her thoughts. Walking around, she realized her dream was about to come full circle.

Thinking back, she remembered how this all came about. After being forced out of her position at her accounting firm in New York City, she had been left without a job, without a career. The scene with her boss still vivid in her memory five month later.

“Sometimes I have to make tough decisions, Mia,” her boss, Mr. Fletcher, said after summoning her to his office. “I’m sorry but the firm is letting you go.” He handed her an envelope. “There’s a decent severance package and, of course, we’ll give you a good referral if you leave quietly.” Her height towered over him but his ego made him appear larger than he was. He sat behind the large cherry wood desk that dwarfed him more.

By the time she had picked her jaw up off of the ground from the unexpected news, she was shaking. She had never been fired before. “I….I don’t understand, Mr. Fletcher. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Mia. It’s just that the firm is going through a re-organization and I’m afraid your position will not be part of it.” His beady little dark eyes held no emotion.

“But, I’m in charge of the corporate accounts. How can you not need my position?” Something didn’t feel right in his explanation. “What really is going on?” Her palms were sweating as her body overheated.

Mr. Fletcher sighed and sat forward in his chair behind the large desk. “I will be frank with you, Mia. My nephew just graduated and I will be taking him onboard to replace you.”

She was being replaced? “How? He hardly has the experience to do my job. I had to work my way up over the years.”

“I will help him.” He stood, hands in his pockets. “It’s my brother’s only child. Family helps family. I’m stuck here, Mia. I’m sorry. I think you’ll find the severance more than generous. You’re young. Go out into the world and follow your dreams. You’ll get another job without a problem. I’ve voided the non-compete clause in your contract so you can work for my competitors if you wish.”

“Please. You act like you’re doing me a favor. That clause is automatically voided should I be terminated for no just cause which is exactly what is happening. I know I won’t have a problem finding another job with my experience, but this is a really horrible thing to do to an employee who has been nothing but loyal.”

Knowing when she had lost a battle, Mia stood and left, not having another word to say. Collecting her things from her office took a mere few minutes and all fit in one box. Turning in her security credentials and walking out of the building, she had to be true to herself. She hadn’t been happy with her job. The long days and unappreciated sacrifices. Clients who were never satisfied even though she didn’t write the tax laws. Still, she deserved better than being fired, to be replaced by a recent college grad who knew nothing about her position, the one he’d take over.

Going back to her apartment, she had opened her laptop to get her parents online to have someone to talk to. The picture of a small fledging winery on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina stared back at her. She had forgotten to close out the search she had played around with the evening before. On the table next to the laptop sat her notebook where she had scrawled the name of the winery along with designs of labels for the wine bottles if the winery had been hers.

The business was being sold ‘as is’ and for cheap but needed a lot of work. Probably more work than she could afford. But it called to her when she had come across it while looking for wineries to visit. Her father had wanted to expand the family business, wanted her to follow in his footsteps as a winemaker.

The envelope that Mr. Fletcher had handed her containing her severance caught her eye from where she had tossed it onto the table. Kicking out of her heels, she opened the envelope and stared at the amount. And stared more until she shook her head and glanced back at her laptop and the ‘for sale’ sign in front of the small winery. The check she held in her hand could make this dream come true. It may be tight, but it was possible. And she had her savings so why not?

Picking up her cell phone, Mia dialed the realtor’s number. “Hello, this is Mia Conti. I’d like to make an appointment to see the Billows Winery tomorrow. Yes, that’ll work. I’ll see you then.”

Hanging up the phone, Mia logged on to buy her plane tickets and a hotel room for a few nights. If nothing else, the trip would allow her to clear her head and decide where she wanted to apply for a job. But owning a winery was so much more thrilling than a new job prospect.

A clap of thunder pulled Mia out of her thoughts and she found herself standing in her winery. Her winery. “Yeah, being fired was the best thing to ever happen to me,” she said out loud, listening to her voice echo in the large room. 

She shut the lights and locked up as fat raindrops landed on her. Back in the SUV, she took her time driving back to her house, taking in the sights, enjoying her moment.

As Mother Nature put on a show with flashes of lightning in the evening sky and thunder roaring, Mia smiled and knew she was where she was supposed to be. This was now her home.

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

Logan Harper stood in line at the grocery store wondering why it was so busy on a Tuesday afternoon. The frenzied scene played out more like Black Friday sales at Christmas, with people pushing and shoving their way through the aisles. Women with young kids in tow crammed carriages full of cereal, crackers, and cookies. Others had firewood and batteries. Still others grabbed up sodas and juices. A long line formed at one of the video rental kiosks. Was there a sale he didn’t know about?

He didn’t let the long wait get to him. He was in no rush. It was his vacation and he planned to make the most of it. Once the elderly lady in front of him got her coupons sorted, it was almost his turn to checkout. She reminded him of his grandma, so he made a mental note to give Nana a call, maybe stop by for a surprise visit after vacation.

Then Logan saw it. The reason for the commotion. A blizzard warning for the area blared across a small television in the front of the store. Elderly men stood around the set with their canes, sipping coffee and listening intently. Colorado was used to this kind of weather so Logan didn’t understand all the fuss as he loaded his groceries onto the conveyor belt. Hell, the state was already covered in about three feet of snow from previous winter storms. It being January, they had a long way to go before spring and the snowstorms let up.

“I see you’re stocking up for the blizzard too,” the middle-aged woman running the cash register said as she rang up his items. “This place has been a madhouse since they abruptly changed the forecast early this morning. Never seen anything like it.”

“Actually, I’m just in town for a few days. I welcome the fresh powder though. Meeting some buddies for some skiing,” he said, hoping he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” The lady frowned as if commiserating with him.

“Too bad? Why?” he asked, wondering why he was letting himself be dragged into a conversation when he really just wanted to get the hell out of the chaos.

“Oh, dear. There won’t be any skiing any time soon,” she said, nodding at the television and the weatherman going over snowfall totals.

“Looks like there’s only about four inches expected. No big deal,” he said, pulling his bankcard from his wallet and slipping it in the machine to pay. He’d never get used to paying for groceries without worrying what every little thing cost or if he’d run out of money.

The woman laughed while she helped another clerk bag his groceries. “That’s not inches. That’s feet,” she exclaimed.

All he could do was stare at her while he waited to sign the machine. “Feet?” Looking closer at the television, he saw what she meant.

“Yes, feet. Honey, that blizzard is supposed to last all week. The weatherman is talking about people being snowed in for days. Roads closed. Businesses closed. The governor already called for a state of emergency starting this afternoon. He’s even mobilized the National Guard and prohibited anyone from being on the roads after three.”

Logan had a bad feeling about this as he loaded the last bag in his cart and thanked the lady. Walking to his truck, the skies had turned from sunny to overcast since he’d been inside the last hour. It was cold and the wind was picking up. Shit. The guys weren’t arriving until tomorrow morning. He quickly loaded the bags into the backseat while another customer waited for his carriage.

Once inside the truck, he found the news station and listened as he drove back to the cabin he and his buddies rented for the week. It didn’t sound good since the announcer repeated the same thing that the clerk had. Blizzard coming. Extremely dangerous blizzard. White-out conditions expected within ten hours. Massive snow totals. Road closures. And airport closures by the evening.

Logan swore a mouthful as he hit the button on his steering wheel to dial Miller Daly. No answer. He left a message. “Hey, asswipe, call me.”

Next he tried Cade Granville. Again, no fucking answer. “Where are all you guys? Having a hug fest or something? Call me ASAP.”

Frustrated as all hell, he dialed Chance Wallace and relief flooded him when he answered.

“Aww, what’s up, Logan. Miss us already?” Chance teased.

“Yeah, like an itchy ass. Listen, you guys need to fly out now. There’s a blizzard coming and they’re closing the airports.”

“Just heard about that,” Chance said. “Miller’s on the phone now seeing what he can pull off.”

“All right. Text me the details. I just stocked up on food and liquor. Get back to me when you know something,” Logan said, disconnecting as he turned down the road leading to the cabin. The road was getting icy so he slowed down. Crashing the rental truck would just top off his day.

Small snowflakes dotted the windshield as he pulled into the driveway and drove the half-mile to park in front of the huge log cabin. The small town outside Denver sported a small population with houses spread out, neighbors far away from each other. Good. He enjoyed the isolation and solitude. Better to relax now and be rowdy when the guys arrived.

Stepping out into the frigid air took Logan’s breath away. He spent most of his time in the hot Middle East or South East Asian countries where the sun baked everything in sight. Maybe that’s why the cold stung more right now than it should. He’d become a pussy in the cold weather.

Lugging the bundles inside, Logan was still amazed they’d scored such an awesome place for the week. Man, this was definitely living. The house had every high-end feature you could imagine. Five bedrooms, six baths, fireplace in the living room, chef’s dream kitchen with a woodstove that kicked off some serious heat, large dining room with long mahogany table for twelve, game room in the basement, exercise room equipped with massage tables, sauna and steam room, a wine cellar stocked with hundreds of bottles, and a movie theatre to accommodate ten. And only miles from the best skiing Denver had to offer.

After Logan finished carrying all the bags in, he started a fire in the living room before putting the food away. If there was that much snow coming, he’d chop some more wood just to be on the safe side. No sense running out of logs when there was ample time to prepare. And he sure the hell didn’t want to freeze his balls off doing it in the middle of a snowstorm.

Thank God he’d offered to come ahead of the guys and get everything set up. He’d been itching to get the hell out of the city and onto the slopes for some much needed down time. If they’d all waited to come together then they’d have no damn food. He’d gone hungry before while on missions and growing up, but it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his vacation. The fat juicy steaks in the fridge and tons of other meat would keep them all well fed. Along with the cases of cold beer and whiskey, there wasn’t much else they needed.

His phone rang and one glimpse showed it was Chance. “Talk to me, buddy. When y’all getting your sorry asses here?”

“Bad news, brother,” Chance said, his voiced laced with disappointment. “All flights are cancelled into Denver until further notice. They don’t expect to be operational again for days.”

Logan scowled. “Are you shitting me? You can’t fly in at all? What the fuck? It’s barely snowing yet.”

“Believe me, we’re just as disappointed. Airport said the storm is due to impact the area in the next few hours with conditions rapidly deteriorating. Said something about it suddenly changing course and hitting Denver when it was only supposed to be flurries.”

He scratched his head and paced. “What the hell am I supposed to do here by myself? You have no idea how much food I just bought,” Logan complained into the phone.

“Build snowmen, I don’t fucking know,” Chance said with a laugh. “We’ll keep an eye on things, and if the storm clears in time then we’ll get on a flight.”

“So much for chilling out and hitting the trails. Keep me updated,” Logan said before disconnecting.

It had been hard enough for them all to coordinate their schedules now that all his buddies except him and Killian were hitched. And here he was with single life haunting him again. What good was all this with no one to share? He enjoyed his alone time, but this would be overdoing it.

Looking around at the huge log cabin, he cursed the blizzard’s bad timing. Just what the hell was he going to do in this huge place all by himself and he couldn’t even go outside to ski? Needing to burn off the temper building inside at the unfortunate predicament, he threw his coat and hat on, grabbed gloves and the ax on the porch to go chop firewood. Nothing like manual labor to ease tension.

Outside, he checked the attached garage and pulled his truck inside. He may be stuck with Mother Nature, but didn’t mean he was going to be stuck shoveling out the truck. The garage was massive and could hold about three more vehicles. There were also four skimobiles he’d have to check out once the storm let up. Maybe he could at least get some thrills if skiing was out of the question. Closing the garage, he walked over to where hundreds of logs waited to be chopped.

The snow had changed to an icy mix, covering the long driveway with a shine that would most certainly be slippery like an ice rink. He swung the ax over and over and steadily built a large pile. Taking a break from swinging the heavy metal tool, he hauled armfuls of the chopped wood into the enclosed front porch, mindful of the icy ground. His muscles screamed from the workout, but it felt good to be doing something useful. He feared he’d go out of his mind being stuck out here alone and bored. At least he’d have plenty of firewood.

Thank God, the cabin came with a well-stocked movie library of various thrillers and military movies that he’d perused on arrival. That, plus the reading material he’d been smart enough to pack to get through any flight delays, would hopefully help him pass the time unless either his buddies could arrive or he could go home.

Logan decided to call it a day and hung up the ax inside the porch. He gathered the last of the logs to lug them in and go have a cold beer when a loud bang had him standing upright, fully aware, and ready to attack. With all his senses on high alert, Logan scanned the area in front of him. That was definitely something hitting something. Hard.

He dropped the firewood by his feet and kept his eyes glued to the woods down at the end of the driveway. No sign of smoke. No other sounds. Had he imagined the noise? Could he already be so bored he was hallucinating problems that weren’t there?

Fuck that. He’d heard something. And that something sounded like a car hitting something.

“Shit,” he said, and set out at a jog down the driveway, knowing full well he’d never relax unless he investigated. Just a few steps onto the driveway, he almost fell on his ass from the black ice left behind from the sleet that now turned back to flurries. “Really?” he complained, knowing there was no one to answer him.

Taking to the snow piles lining the length of the drive slowed his pace but kept him upright. The half-mile to the road seemed like an eternity. Once on the road, Logan looked up and down but saw no signs of anyone or anything amiss. There were no vehicles. No houses. Nothing.

“Hello,” he yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Anyone out there? Do you need help?”

No answer. A deer skirted through the woods across the street and disappeared from view.

He tried again. “Hello. Anyone out there? Do you need help?”

He stood and listened for about ten minutes before reaching for his cell phone to call the sheriff, who would be better equipped than him to check this out. Damn it. Left his cell on the charger in the cabin. With one final look in all directions and feeling confident that there was nothing wrong, he walked back to the cabin.

Once inside, the warmth from the fireplace was welcome for his frozen face. The air had gotten bitterly cold and standing in the middle of an open roadway probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do with the winds lashing him.

Picking up his cell, he dialed. “Hello, sheriff’s office? I’m staying in the rental at 1105 Canyon Road. I heard a loud bang out on the roadway about twenty minutes ago and wondered if you could send someone to check it out.”

“What kind of bang would you say it was?” the dispatcher asked in a cocky voice, as if Logan was interrupting him.

“The kind that sounded like a car hitting something. I ran up to the road but saw nothing,” Logan said, picturing a skinny, pimple-faced asshole on the other end.

“Probably nothing then.”

Logan clenched his jaw, wishing he could reach through the phone and grab the twerp by the throat. “Well, could you humor me and send someone to check it out? Couldn’t have been too far from my cabin.”

The man sighed. “We have a blizzard bearing down on us.”

“Well, it ain’t here yet and I know what I heard. Now, if you can’t help me, get me someone who can and do it now,” Logan said, his voice booming through the room with the temper growing inside him. Little freaking idiot.

“Relax. I’ll send a car, but I’m willing to bet it was just snow falling from the treetops. Stuff gets heavy with sleet. Outsiders tend to get skittish to noises around here,” the man said with a know-it-all attitude.

Logan stared at the phone before placing it back to his ear. Did he just call him skittish? He’d never been skittish a day in his life. Counting to ten, he made it to three before speaking. “Send the car. Check it out. God forbid, there’s someone hurt. I’ll make sure you’re held responsible you, dickhead.”

“Now that’s no way—” the man began before Logan hung up.

He poured himself a coffee and stood by the large picture window facing the road and watched for any sign of the sheriff’s deputy sent to investigate. He swore that if the little fucker didn’t send someone then he’d be taking a trip into town—blizzard or no blizzard—to kick his sorry ass, jail or no jail.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, blue lights lit up the road as a police car drove up and down a few times then pulled down the driveway to the cabin. Logan prayed it was the little fucker from dispatch.

He stepped out to greet the deputy, an older, heavyset man who didn’t even get out of the vehicle. Standing in only a heavy sweater, Logan planned to make this short and sweet before he froze his ass off.

“Afternoon,” the deputy said, after rolling down his window and turning off his blue lights. “You the fella who reported a noise?”

“Yes, sir. Logan Harper.”

“Well, Mr. Harper,” he began before Logan cut him off.

“Please. Call me Logan.”

The man studied him for a moment. “Logan. I checked out the entire road in front of your place. Nothing there. Nothing out of the ordinary. No skid marks that would indicate a crash,” he said in a slow, laid back dialog without concern that the noise was anything but a noise. Was Logan the only one with a brain in his head today? Something had to make that bang.

“If I had to guess that’s what I’d say it sounded like, a car hitting something,” Logan offered.

“Well, I couldn’t find the origin of the noise, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. This time of year, trees tend to fall under the weight of snow, could’ve been that.” The man handed him a business card. “Here’s my cell just in case you can’t get through the station should you hear anything else.”

“Appreciate it,” Logan said, cramming the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

“You part of the group of military men renting this place out for the week?” the man asked, his hand slung over the steering wheel.

News sure did travel fast in small towns. “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, I’m the only one who got in before the snow. The rest had their flights cancelled.”

“Yeah, this storm was a surprise. Looks to be a real pain in the ass too.” He offered his hand through the window. “I’m Sheriff Rutdger, you give me a call if you need anything.” At least he was friendlier than the dispatcher.

Logan shook his hand. “I appreciate that since whoever is working your phones is an idiot,” he said with no apologies.

The sheriff laughed hard. “Yes, he is. Unfortunately, he’s my brother’s son. I swear he’s a few watts short of a light bulb, but he’s a body and, right now with this snow emergency, I need all the bodies I can get.”

Logan understood. “I won’t take any more of your time, sheriff. Appreciate the follow up.”

“Any time.” The sheriff rolled up his window. Logan turned and walked inside to the welcoming the blast of heat from the fireplace.

Staring back out the window, he watched as the sheriff backed out of the driveway and drove out of sight. At least the man in charge came out to inspect and not the friggin’ phone idiot. But something still didn’t seem right to Logan. How can a noise that loud not have a reason for it? Oh, well. He did his civic duty.

Kicking off his boots near the door, he stretched out on the long couch in front of the TV. Logan was sick of hearing about the weather, so he clicked through the channels until something interested him. Later, he’d check out the home theatre downstairs. Those overstuffed leather recliners looked more than comfortable.

Still, he couldn’t concentrate on the buildings blowing up on the wide screen television. He kept glancing at the windows, something gnawing at his gut.

Cursing, he shut his eyes and willed himself to rest. No sense worrying about something that didn’t need worrying about.

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

Brandi dug the vibrating cell phone out of her lab coat, scowled at the phone number flashing across the screen, and hit the cancel button to refuse the call. There was no way she could deal with her mother right now, not with the way her day was going. Her caseload was already making her fall behind and it was only eleven in the morning. She ignored another vibration that indicated a voicemail message. Of course her mother would leave a message. The overbearing woman would stalk her until she got on the phone. But she was too busy to worry about that right now. Brandi stopped outside the exam room of her next patient. She put on glasses that she wore on a chain around her neck, removed his chart from the wall, and studied it. Navy SEAL. Thirty-three years old. Wounded in action. Leg injury. Healthy otherwise. Slipping off her glasses, she knocked on the door. When she entered the room, she thought the note about him being healthy was an understatement. Between his six foot five height and his muscular body, the man hardly fit in the bed. There were two other men of equal size standing by his bed, arms folded, wearing shit-eating grins. When the three turned her way, their steely gazes stopped her. All three men oozed power and confidence, sizing her up with their eyes and never changing their stance. Swallowing hard, she found her voice. “Hi there,” she said, stepping to the bedside. “Mr. Wallace? My name is Brandi Wheeler, and I’ll be your physical therapist while you’re here.” The man seared her with a hard stare, narrowing dark brown eyes to pin her where she stood. “I don’t need any damn physical therapist. I can manage just fine on my own. Been exercising my whole life.” His gruff tone showed his agitation with being stuck in bed. “What the man means is that he’ll be happy to work with you and do exactly what you say,” the man with short black hair and piercing blue eyes said, towering over her. “Finn Coleman, ma’am.” He offered his hand and she shook it. She cringed waiting for the massive hand that swallowed hers to break delicate bones, but his handshake remained soft and gentle. “My friend here means no disrespect.” Her patient squirmed in the bed, rustling sheets and punching his pillow out of the way. “Don’t tell me what I mean.” “Chance, you’re in no position to be calling the shots,” the other man said, this one as tall as his buddies but with short blond hair and serious blue eyes a girl could get lost in. He faced Brandi and offered his hand. “Cade Granville, ma’am.” Just like Finn’s, Cade’s handshake was gentler than expected. “Might want to check him for a head injury since he seems to have left his manners at the door.” Brandi slipped on her glasses again and studied the case notes in the file. Uncooperative. Stubborn. In denial of seriousness of injury. She sighed. Why did she have to be the one assigned a patient with no will to help himself or face his injury? Just made her job that much harder. “Mr. Wallace,” she began, facing him to make eye contact so he knew she meant business. “Chance.” She studied the hard eyes focused on her. “Okay. Chance.” She met his glare and held it, keeping her voice firm yet understanding. “Why don’t you let me do my job first and ask you some questions before you say you don’t need my services? I’m sure you understand the need to first assess a situation before ruling out all options.” She swore the other two men snickered, but she focused on her patient. Chance’s lips curved into a half grin that held no sweetness. “By all means, waste your time.” He struggled to sit up straighter. “But there’s nothing you can do for me that I don’t know how to do myself. Hell, I know all about conditioning and strengthening workouts.” She could understand his crankiness at being cooped up in a hospital room when he was probably used to running wild through God-forsaken lands. What bugged her was him dismissing her ability to help him. No one dismissed Brandi Wheeler, especially not when she was only trying to help him or her by doing her job. A job that she not only excelled at but put her heart and soul into. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, flipping through the chart, letting sarcasm win over as a final attempt to cut through his hostility. “No one mentioned you were a physical therapist. All it says here is that your bull headedness will certainly interfere with any prescribed physical therapy regimen.” She slammed the file shut, removed her glasses and moved closer, hand on hip, barely resisting the urge to tap her foot. “But in my professional opinion your unwillingness to cooperate is indicative of an even bigger problem.” His eyes narrowed with a dangerous warning. “Oh? And what is that?” She spoke slow and steady, refusing to let his bravado intimidate her. “That your ego will keep you from getting better because you’d rather sit in bed feeling sorry for yourself than actually make an effort to use the resources available to give you that speedy recovery you keep bitching about.” “You’re hired!” Cade and Finn said together, fist bumping each other. “Go to hell, you two.” Chance glared at Brandi. “First of all, I am not bitching.” “I thought bitching was a nicer word than…whining,” she said, sensing she had struck the right nerve to at least get him to discuss his options. Cade and Finn whistled. “Oh, man, I think you’ve met your match, buddy,” Cade said, laughing. “Now listen here—” Chance began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. She spoke clearly, doing her best to remain professional when she really wanted to tell him what a jerk he was being. “No, you listen, Chance Wallace. I’m the physical therapist. Not you. I wouldn’t go into the field and tell you how to do your job, so don’t think you can spew testosterone and tell me how to do mine. Now you’ll give me the courtesy I deserve and let me do my job to help you. Or you can take it upon your know-it-all self and ignore medical advice then you’ll be right back here, with an aggravated injury, and a longer healing time. Don’t waste my time, Chance. There are other patients willing to let me assist them without letting their ego rule their brain. So what’s it going to be?” Chance stared at the wall for a long moment before turning back to her. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to insult you. Being laid up like this sucks. I’ll make a deal.” “I don’t make deals,” she said, and turned toward the door. “I’ll agree to your treatment plan, but if I don’t think it’s working then you have to be willing to listen,” Chance said as she retreated, the sincerity in his voice not to be mistaken for defeat. She faced him and walked back to stand beside the bed. “I’ll make a deal with you. If my treatment plan doesn’t help you instantly then you can tell me ‘I told you so.’ You’d probably love to do that.” He smirked and ran a hand over his short, black hair. “No, actually I wouldn’t like to do that. You’re right. You’re the expert. So what’s the plan?” Wow, she had gotten through his stubbornness. Tough negotiations, but at least she’d made some progress. She proceeded with caution to not overwhelm him. “I need to examine you first. Then I’ll explain everything. But I can tell you that I disagree with the doctor’s assessment of a long recovery.” His eyes widened with hope. “Why’s that?” Brandi studied the hard angles of his face and noticed his features had softened now that he wasn’t fighting her. “Because with the amount of stubbornness inside you to fuel your fight to recover, I think you’ll be back shooting bad guys in no time. If you listen exactly to my instructions.” “I want the fastest recovery. I’ll do anything to make it happen.” Placing his file on the nightstand beside the bed, she walked to the sink to wash her hands. Once back by his side, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t every day she had a patient who oozed such sex appeal and confidence. “May I remove the bed sheets?” “Absolutely,” he replied, a smile slowly forming as he rested back on the pillows, hands behind his head, watching her. His two friends had remained quiet, observing their interaction from across the room while whispering to each other. They stood with arms crossed, looking like they were guarding the door to prevent Chance’s escape. Brandi appreciated the close bond of the men. Slowly, she removed the sheets from Chance’s legs. He wore grey gym shorts and a white T-shirt which gave her easy access to his wound. She took a moment to compare his legs in size and color, looking for any sign that his condition had worsened or improved. But everything looked about the same as the case notes had indicated which was a good sign he was slowly recovering and infection wasn’t an issue. The right leg was still swollen from where the bullet sliced through his flesh, on his thigh right above the knee. “You’re very fortunate, Chance. The surgeon reports that the bullet missed major arteries and muscles. Other than some nerve damage, I expect you will have a full recovery and regain normal use of your leg with some rigorous therapy.” “Awesome.” “Good news, buddy,” Finn said. “Yeah, just listen to the lady,” Cade said. “Don’t be a dumbass.” Her hands gripped his ankle. “Tell me if I hurt you,” she said, moving his leg around carefully, watching for any sign of pain he wouldn’t disclose. “Darling, you could never hurt me. Your touch is soft, warm, feels really good. A big welcome from those old farts who come in here on their rounds.” She ignored him, not wanting to know how much he liked her touching him. She fought against the images his words evoked, their hands on each other’s body, roaming up and down. Jesus! What the hell was wrong with her? This was her patient and she shouldn’t be thinking of him like a sex object, no matter how much she was sure he wouldn’t object. “I’m going to press against your legs and feet, I want you to push against my hand. Go ahead.” He did as she said and allowed her to perform her tests. As expected, his left leg was stronger than his injured right leg. She removed a small metal tool from her lab coat pocket to drag along the soles of his feet and legs to test for feeling, or lack thereof. When he pulled away, she looked at him. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you, Chance?” She swore there was a slight blush forming on his tanned face. “No. Just…tickles.” The last word was said in a whisper, but that didn’t stop his two friends from overhearing and snickering. Brandi couldn’t resist standing up for her client. She faced Cade and Finn. “Gentlemen? Do you need to wait outside?” Instantly, they both stopped smiling and stood straight, hands behind their backs as they murmured in unison, “No, ma’am. Sorry.” Turning back to Chance, she caught him gloating as if telepathically telling his buddies “ha ha, you got busted.” Really? And they give these men guns? Offering a smile, she spoke again. “Sorry that it tickled, but that’s a good sign. You have complete feeling in your legs and feet, which will make our job easier and your recovery faster.” She pulled the sheets back over his legs and stepped back. After putting on her glasses, she started writing in his file. “You have good range of motion, Chance. We’ll need to work on strengthening the muscles but, with you being in such good shape, that won’t be a problem. The wound is healing well. No signs of infection. Until the stitches are removed in a few days, we’ll work around that.” The man had legs like tree trunks. Never had she had a patient so muscular, so strong. And she’d had many military personnel as patients. It was obvious that this man took pride in his physical fitness. “Now what happens?” he asked, giving her his total attention. Glancing at him, she couldn’t help notice the muscles straining against his T-shirt. “We can start therapy this afternoon. We’ll start slow and build up each session, adding more exercises. Any questions?” He studied her, like he was making a chess move. “Does that mean you’ll be working with me? I only want to work with you.” Umm, okay. “And why’s that? My staff is highly trained and very capable. While I will be working with you the majority of time, there may be times when I need to send my assistants due to scheduling conflicts or workload. Your therapy must remain constant to be successful.” “Yeah, but I’m willing to bet none of those assistants are as beautiful or appealing as you are. And you’ve just proved that you’re very capable of handling my stubborn ass.” She smiled. She was beautiful? Appealing? “If it takes me working with you directly for you to comply with therapy, I’ll do it. Besides, I don’t want my staff hating me for siccing you on them. Three o’clock, I’ll be back. Gentlemen, nice to meet you.” Gathering her file and removing her glasses, she prepared to leave. “Absolutely great to meet you,” Cade said, grinning. “You are going to earn your pay with this one,” Finn said, thumbing toward Chance. “Oh, I think I can handle him,” she said with a wink. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go put my notes in the computer.” “Notes? What kind of notes?” Chance asked. Smiling, she walked to the door and then turned to face him. “Let’s just say that you’ve been one of my most interesting patients. Ever. Three o’clock. And no complaining.” She left the room and fought hard not to fan herself as she quickly searched his file for any reference to a wife or significant other. She chastised herself for feeling glad when she found none. Brandi reminded herself that it wasn’t appropriate to be attracted to a patient. But, wow, how could any living, breathing woman not be attracted to such a virile, sexy man? Even his abrupt tone and crankiness were appealing. The dangerous glint in his eyes should be a warning to stay away, because a man like Chance Wallace surely was used to getting his own way. But that only piqued her interest more. Stop it! He’s a patient. Besides, the man probably had a woman in every state waiting for him. “Brandi, what’s going on? Why are you daydreaming?” her assistant, Stella, asked, waving her hand in front of her face to get her attention while she stood at the nurse’s desk. “Sorry,” Brandi replied, hoping she was acting as normal as possible or the very observant Stella would keep asking questions. “I’m just trying to collect my thoughts on my last patient and finish these notes. I’m already so far behind schedule. Trying to catch up.” “Uh-huh.” The doubtful tone from the middle-aged African American woman with long, gorgeous braids and a smile to light up the room was a warning to Brandi that she would be asking more questions when time allowed. “You usually wear your glasses when writing notes, don’t you?” Busted! Best just to ignore the observation. Brandi handed Chance’s chart to Stella. “Schedule Mr. Wallace to start PT today at three with me. He’s a little brash, so I will deal with him directly.” “He’s also a whole lot of handsome. You go, girl,” Stella whispered. Brandi just smiled. “Stop that. I’ve got my next patient.” She walked away before Stella could interrogate her on her new and irritating patient. She found herself looking forward to the three o’clock appointment with Chance, mostly because she enjoyed a challenge but secretly she enjoyed him.  

Coming Soon!

Chapter One

The noose tightened around Mackenna’s waist, anchoring her to the man who would likely be her killer. With the loose end of the rope secured to his belt, they were forced to move as one. She flexed her fingers to reduce the numbness settling into both of her hands that were bound behind her back with the same thick rope used on her waist. There was no escaping her predicament. Damn! The tall man named Aldo tugged on the cord, forcing her to move with him. “Where are we going?” she asked, allowing defiance to seep into her tone. She wouldn’t let these monsters see her fear. Aldo turned back to her, striking her across the cheek with the back of his hand like he had earlier, causing her to stumble back a step. Each blow hurt more than the previous against her bruised flesh. “Shut up. No talk.” His thick accent didn’t hide the meanness in his voice. Again, he pulled her along. The Colombian jungle didn’t offer any comfort for those unprepared for a hike through the dense foliage. Dressed in knee-length cargo shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals, Mackenna had a hard time maneuvering through the brush. Then again, when she’d chosen her outfit for the day, she hadn’t planned on being kidnapped. At least her captors allowed her to keep the small black bag slung across her shoulders that carried her bug spray and sunscreen. The men had already rifled through it and taken her money, cell phone, and gum. Stole her friggin’ gum! Concentrating on each step kept her eyes on the forest floor. Every now and then she dared to peek up where her captors stomped forward. Mackenna Hillman cowered to no one. She’d think of something to save her ass. At least she was still alive to contemplate her options, slim as they were. She was damn valuable to her captors so other than brutalizing her, they’d most likely keep her alive. Fingers crossed! Oh, Daddy! I’m so sorry. What would he think when they contacted him? “Faster,” a man shouted from behind and shoved a rifle into her back. “Ow! I’m trying,” she said, clenching her teeth against a curse and hoping the fool didn’t slip and shoot her. Separated from her crew and bodyguard, she was outnumbered. The seven men trekking her through the jungle were all dressed in green camouflage uniforms. All brandished long rifles slung over their shoulders by dirty straps. Almost as dirty as their black, greasy hair covering dark, menacing eyes set deeply in unshaven filthy faces. She couldn’t tell if the brown color of their skin was from the sun or grime. Stopping at a fire pit in a small clearing, they met up with four more men, causing Mackenna to cringe as the odds stacked even more against her. God, would they torture her by burning her? Swallowing hard did nothing to dislodge the lump in her throat. “Sit, bitch,” Aldo commanded, shoving her to the ground. With her hands bound, she did the best she could to brace the fall, but still banged her elbows on the hard dirt. She struggled to sit up. One of the men held a video camera. Was he filming her? Oh, God. Just as she feared. They knew who she was. Speaking in a foreign tongue, the video guy shouted orders and the other men swarmed around her. Aldo spoke brusquely into the camera. “Ten million American dollars. You send to us. We will provide a bank account number for transfer of funds. Or else we kill your fucking daughter, Senator Hillman.” The camera swung around to her. She mouthed a few words pretending to pray, wanting to stay in the camera’s lens as long as necessary to get out a message. Daddy knew men who knew what to look for. She hoped they would. After a few more seconds, the camera zoomed back to Aldo. “Of course, your choice, Senator Hillman. Don’t pay, or take your time paying, and me and my men get more time to play with the whore.” Without warning, a man shoved her onto her back and tore at her blouse, the buttons popped off to expose her bra, her arms bound painfully behind her back. “No!” she screamed. “Not here in the Camelo bird’s territory. I won’t let you desecrate what little land the Camelo bird has left.” Someone, anyone watching, please pay attention. The man gripped both her breasts and fondled them painfully, making grunting noises that turned her stomach as she struggled, kicking her legs and thrashing her body as much as she could. “Enough,” Aldo yelled. “Soon. But not now.” The man pulled back. “Soon you be mine.” He grabbed her crotch before getting up, leaving her lying in a breathless heap on the hard ground. Above her, massive trees covered in thousands of leaves hid the outside world. Exotic birds screeched as they flew from treetop to treetop. Insects buzzed by. Flowers shared their wonderful fragrances, perfuming the humid air. The rainforest went about its business even as Mackenna lay wondering how much more she’d be forced to endure before Diablo’s goons killed her.

By LAS Reviewer on April 11, 2016 on Amazon: Two people who don’t seem to make sense on paper just might be the antidote they both need. Christina James has a way with words. She’s great with spinning characters and I’m glad I got to read this book. I didn’t read the first two books in the series, but I didn’t feel lost. This was a great standalone read… Honestly, I liked this book. I liked how Mackenna and Cade got to know each other…there was plenty of time for the characters to get to know each other. It happened quite naturally and at a great pace. I felt like I was there in the cabin with them and like I was in the story watching them fall together. Mackenna has more than just her job getting the story told going on with her. She believes in conservation and saving animals. I liked how Cade wasn’t nearly as opposite as he seemed in that respect. It was sexy. If you want a book with a hot hero, a feisty heroine with more than her job on her mind, then this might be the story for you.

Chapter One

“I swear, Finn, if you don’t relax, you’re going to make me even more nervous than I already am,” Emma complained from the passenger seat of their rental car. “Sorry, honey,” Finn sighed, his large body squished behind the steering wheel. “Just remember, Granddad can be pretty prickly so don’t take anything he says personally.” Emma smiled, anxious to meet Finn’s Granddad–finally! “Sounds like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” He shot her a hard glare that she ignored, having grown used to his hard-ass ways over the past months. At six feet three inches tall with wide shoulders and muscular arms, Finn’s appearance should have been menacing. But the love in his serious blue eyes couldn’t be mistaken. “Face it, Finn. If I can live with you, I can certainly handle Granddad.” “You need a spanking,” Finn replied with a curve of his lips, flexing his hand against a muscular thigh. He’d been so serious since they landed at the airport an hour ago, it was nice to see him smile. It never ceased to amaze Emma how much the threat of a spanking thrilled her and set off delightful fireworks deep within her belly. Seeing him rub his palm against his thigh had her pussy convulsing with urgent need for intimate attention. “We’re here,” Finn announced glumly, turning into a ranch entrance framed with massive concrete pillars that connected to a log fence. A gigantic slab of wood engraved with “Cattleman’s Ranch” rested across the pillars. Finn drove down a long, dusty dirt driveway lined with sprawling oak trees that looked hundreds of years old. Their gnarly branches provided much needed shade from the bright Texas sun and pointed the way toward the biggest house Emma had ever seen. “You grew up here?” She swallowed hard. “This is your ranch?” “Sure is.” Pride covered Finn’s face, his bright blue eyes flashing heat as he snuck another peak at her breasts in the cleavage-bearing sundress. “Have I told you how much I love that dress on you?” “Only through the entire plane ride.” She couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying how he still looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. “Wow. This place makes my land in Vermont seem so small.” A pang of homesickness hit her when she thought of her horses and award-winning roses. But this trip offered a much-needed vacation. Her neighbors would all pitch in to keep her small farm running while they visited Finn’s grandfather. Finn parked alongside some pickup trucks in front of the house, killed the ignition, and stepped out to stretch before walking to Emma’s side and opening her door. Emma’s belly filled with excitement at meeting her future grandfather-in-law. With their wedding only weeks away, she was glad they could meet ahead of all the excitement and festivities. “I’ll get our bags in a bit. Let’s get out of this heat. No sense putting off meeting the grumpy ol’ man.” Emma slapped his arm. “Stop it. Granddad can’t be all that bad.” “Try living with him,” Finn complained. “After this week, babe, you’ll see exactly what I mean. You’ll be glad we live two thousand miles away in Vermont.” “Just remember what I said. Be the bigger man, no matter what. And be sure to invite Granddad over any time he wants to visit.” Finn looked at her like she had three heads. “The hell I will! Besides, the stubborn ol’ fool doesn’t like to travel. He says the state of Texas is big enough to keep him busy.” “Finn!” She didn’t have a chance to say more as they ascended the granite steps. The massive wooden front door opened and a tall, elderly man faced them, smiling and slapping at his leg. “Well, hello there, folks. Damn fine to see y’all. Get in here out of the blasted heat,” Granddad said, his deep voice full of authority. His pale blue eyes and short silver hair were a big contrast to Finn’s short black hair and deep blue eyes, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Both men, separated in age by decades, were tall, muscular, and devastatingly handsome. Finn tugged Emma’s elbow and guided her into the coolness of the house. “Granddad, want you to meet my fiancée, Emma Shields. Emma,” Finn continued, clearing his throat, “meet Granddad.” “Jaxon Coleman, ma’am. Welcome to Hellcat, Texas, and Cattleman’s Ranch.” He grasped her hand in a firm handshake and pulled her into a bear hug. His large body swallowed her up in a warm embrace. Her heart swelled with love. Releasing Emma, he covered her hand with his. “Folks call me Jax, but you can call me Granddad. Always wanted a granddaughter.” “Like hell. You hated kids,” Finn complained, standing with his feet apart and arms crossed, as if he expected a confrontation. “Nah. You were just hell bent on seeing how fast you could drive me crazy. Now come here and give Granddad a hug.” “What?” Finn’s eyes widened and he looked uncomfortable when Granddad embraced him, slapping him hard on the back a few times. “Christ, boy, haven’t seen you in forever.” Granddad ended the embrace and just stared at Finn for a long moment, keeping his hands on Finn’s upper arms. “You all healed now from almost getting yourself killed?” Emma shuddered at the mention of Finn’s back-from-the dead incident during his last deployment a few months earlier. He’d saved his team of Navy SEALs by tackling a terrorist bomber and falling into the sea and presumed dead. It was the worst time of Emma’s life. Having the military inform her that he’d been killed in action had been too much for her heart to bear. If it weren’t for her horses, then Emma would’ve died of a broken heart. “Yes, sir,” Finn replied. “Other than adding a few more scars, I’m completely healed. And it’s all thanks to my personal nurse, who refused to let me lift a finger unless the doctor put it in writing.” “Oh, really now, Finn,” Emma said with a smile, even if she really wanted to clobber him. “I don’t think Granddad needs to hear any complaining from a grown man who should be grateful he’s walking around at all.” Granddad hollered and laughed hard. “Hot damn, boy! You’ve finally met your match. Emma, dear, you give him all the hell he deserves and don’t take any of his crap. Unfortunately, us Coleman men tend to be thick-headed. Well, until we’re straightened out, that is.” “I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Granddad.” Emma shot Finn a warning glare for making his grandfather out to be such a mean, cold-hearted man when he clearly wasn’t. “I’m sure Finn filled you full of stories on how we don’t get along like we ought to. And he’d be telling the truth. But you both have my word that I’m a new man. I’ve seen some hard times, but it felt like my heart was ripped from my chest the day I got the visit from your commander that you were killed.” Emma’s throat tightened with emotion. Finn’s usual hard stance was wavering, his eyes fixated on the old man. Oh, how nice it would be for these two bull-headed men to finally get along. She placed her hand over her heart and enjoyed the moment, missing her own father so much more. But he was traveling with her step-mom and she’d have to wait until the wedding to catch up. Granddad shook his head. “Goddamn it, boy. You nearly sent me to an early grave. But I never doubted you were alive. Never doubted.” He faced Emma. “You see, dear. He had spoken of you…well, there was no way he wouldn’t do everything in his power to come back to the woman he loved. I know how stubborn he can be and, by God, it was one of the only times I’ve been grateful for that stubbornness.” Finn cleared his throat. “Sorry, ol’ man, to put you through that. But I’m here now, healed real good, and planning a wedding.” “Ah, who’s planning a wedding?” Emma asked, her hands on her hips. Finn rolled his eyes and grinned. “You are, dear. I just stay the hell out of the way until you need an opinion on cake or lettering on envelopes. But I don’t know why she even asks because she’s already made up her mind.” Emma opened her mouth to say something, but Granddad took her hand and spoke. “Now, Emma, I must warn you, although I’m quite sure you already know. Us Coleman men are pretty good about sticking our foot in our mouths. Got to give Finn a little room to adjust to being with someone. He’s so used to being on his own and all.” Finn smiled. “Believe me, Granddad, she’s used to me by now.”

By 0317irish on October 27, 2013 on Amazon: Loved the characters. Really appreciated reading more about this great couple. It was fun seeing where he had come from.