USA Today Bestselling Author
I recall the winter of my first grade year, basking in the
heat from our fireplace in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Dad read aloud Madeline
L'Engle's A WRINKLE IN TIME and Mom peeled orange segments for us to enjoy. That
was the definitive moment I fell in love with fiction.
I write frequent articles (or view recent posts easily
on my Home Page, scroll down) about the nineteenth century
American West–every subject of possible interest to readers, amateur
historians, authors…as all of these tidbits surfaced while researching for my
books. I also blog monthly at Sweet Romance Reads, Sweet Americana
Sweethearts, and Romancing the
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His worst mistake was letting her go.
His second-worst mistake? Bringing her home.
Pleasance is back to reclaim her rightful place at Jacob’s side. One way or another she’ll remind him theirs is a match made in heaven…once the shock wears off. The teensy-weensy problem? Jacob doesn’t know that she—his first love—is his catalog bride..
Jacob had been a man of twenty-three when last she’d seen him.
Broader, taller, his features more defined, the power in his lean body evident in every pacing step.
No, the man didn’t pace. He prowled. Stalked.
And collided with her—
Not physically. Just the same, his attention snared and she was caught. A rabbit in his trap.
Every time she anticipated this reunion, she’d known precisely how he’d respond—how could she not? She’d known him forever.
In these many rehearsals, he’d taken her elbow, ever the gentleman, and escorted her away from the crowded platform. He’d never been one to make a scene or cause a lady a moment’s discomfort.
In rehearsal, he’d searched her face for answers, with hope, surprise, and joy in his eyes. She’d open her reticule, remove the bundle of letters he’d penned over the past year, tied neatly with blue ribbon the exact shade as her gown—
Jacob tensed. A mountain lion, ready to pounce.
She’d anticipated cranky—she could deal with cranky. Fury collided with incredulity on his features, hardening his handsome face to granite.
He’d identified her. Instant and undeniable recognition.
He wasn’t looking left or right, making sure she was the blue dress and the blue bonnet, as promised by mail.
He focused wholly on her, as if she were the only woman in the world.
Her heart leapt with remembered joy and a love so strong, so poignant, she smiled. A soft smile, just for him. Without meaning to, utterly unscripted, she took a step toward him. He looked…wonderful.
He whirled about and strode…away?
Directly to the hitching post. Without so much as a by your leave, he swung into the saddle, and with the ease of the accomplished horseman he was, nudged the bay into a canter.
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