“Of course,” Jenna answered.
“Are you a dancer? A real dancer?”
Jenna looked at the boy in surprise. “Well, I’m not sure what you mean. I dance, I teach, I compete—does that make me a real dancer?”
He grinned. “Yes!” he answered emphatically as he set the spare tire in place and picked up a bolt.
“Well, this might make you change your mind about that—I’m a ballroom dancer,” she said.
The boy’s eyes widened. “You mean like on TV, on that celebrity dance show?”
Jenna couldn’t help it. His words were so unexpected she started to laugh. “I’m sorry.... It’s just not what I expected! You watch dancing? Ballroom dancing?”
“Yeah! I watch all the shows. I try to learn stuff off of the internet, too.”
The excitement in his voice was palpable and Jenna was amazed. She would never have pegged this boy, who looked so at home in this rugged country, to be a fan of television dance programs. “Do you study dance?” she asked.
He shook his head regretfully. “We have line dancing, Western dancing, that kind of stuff. But no dance school around here.” He glanced around as if worried someone might hear him. “Even if there was, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to take classes.”
“Why not?”
“My family doesn’t exactly approve of boys—” he made quotation marks in the air in front of him “—waltzing around in tights.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Jenna asked softly, studying the teen’s profile. His focus was back on the tire but his mouth was a grim, frustrated line. “If it’s any consolation, my family’s still trying to get me to go to law school.” She truly felt for him.
“Really?” His expression brightened at that. “Are you gonna go?”
“No,” she answered. “I’m a dancer, even if they don’t see it.”
“That’s how I feel!” He had the spare on now and was staring at her, eyes wide. Jenna realized she was probably the first person he’d ever met who understood that. She wished there were something she could do for him. If he lived in San Francisco, she’d give him her card and encourage him to come to the ballroom for lessons. But out here? Somewhere beyond the tiny town of Benson? There wasn’t much she could do.
She moved her bags to the backseat and the boy loaded the flat tire into her trunk.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she told him. The flat tire had been just one more bad event in a terrible day, but right now she was almost glad it had happened. She liked this kid.
He blushed and looked away. “It’s no big deal,” he said.
“I never got your name.”
“Paul.”
“Paul, I’m Jenna. I wish there was more I could do to help you get started dancing, but I’m only here for the weekend. But when you’re looking at videos, make sure they show real technique, not just where to put your feet. The instructor should show you exactly how to place your arms and legs, your torso, your head. They should talk about the shape of your hands—even what part of your foot hits the floor first. Go slow and pay attention to all that.”
Paul nodded, his face serious. He was obviously taking in every word. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Jenna.”
He stuck out his hand and she shook it awkwardly. “Do you know where you’re going from here?” he asked. “Want me to set you in the right direction?”
“That would be great. It’s Jack Baron’s place? It’s off of...” Jenna tried to picture the name of the street, scrawled on a piece of paper in her car.
“I know it,” Paul said. “He’s a friend of my brother’s. Head back to the highway and go south about a mile and a half before making a right turn. The road will take you back behind the town, then out toward the mountains. There’s a driveway off to the right that heads uphill. Take the left fork on that driveway and you’re there.”
“I’m lucky you came along.” More than lucky—profoundly relieved. “Good luck, Paul. And thank you again for the rescue.”
“Glad to help.” He tipped his hat in her direction and went to get his horse. Jenna watched him go. Kids were her soft spot. Especially teenagers. Maybe when she finally got her own dance studio, she’d create some kind of program for kids like Paul, living out in the country with no support for their dreams. They could train with her for the summer and stay with host families. Kind of like foreign exchange students but an exchange from rural to urban.
She looked around at the landscape that in some places looked more like a moonscape. The sun was getting high and a dry heat was building, baking the sagebrush and filling the air with its spicy scent. If this was Paul’s home, then a chilly summer in San Francisco really would be like a stay in a foreign country. And as for her, a city girl, this rocky pasture felt even stranger than that. An alien world, Jenna decided as she got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. And she was ready to get back to nice familiar planet Earth.
She turned the car around and started back on the rutted dirt road she’d somehow thought would lead her to Samantha’s ranch. Knowing now what it could do to her tires, she crept along, heart pounding. Watching Paul had given her some idea of what to do if she had another blowout, but she was already riding on her spare.
Gratefully, Jenna saw the highway getting closer. Motion in her rearview mirror had her glancing back. Paul was riding behind her, a little ways off the track to avoid the dust her wheels kicked up. She smiled. What a good guy—making sure she got back to the main road safely. This was why she loved working with young people. No matter how murky or dismal the future might seem, they always gave her hope.
Meeting an aspiring dancer out here was such an odd coincidence. Jenna remembered the way Paul’s face had lit up when he talked about dance. Maybe she’d ended up in the middle of nowhere for a reason—to encourage him in his dream. If that was the case, then she’d been wrong about the meaning of that exploding smoothie. Maybe today was somehow meant to be.
Copyright © 2014 by Claire McEwen
ISBN-13: 9781460339183
PROMISES UNDER THE PEACH TREE
Copyright © 2014 by Joanne Rock
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Love runs free
Meredith Bennet lives for two people—her husband, Max, and their young son, Caleb. She also lives in fear of her abusive ex-husband, Steve, a man she’s been running from for years. She thought she’d finally eluded him. But when it becomes apparent that he’s found her, she makes a drastic decision. She goes on the run again—by herself—to protect the two people she loves most.
Meredith finds solace and safety in a new identity at The Lemonade Stand, a unique women’s shelter. With Steve on the hunt for her and Max desperate to get his wife back, she will discover if love really is stronger than evil.
“Meredith’s ex-husband was a fiend,” Max said softly.
He spoke as though two-year-old Caleb might hear and understand what Max was saying.
“He brutalized her,” Max went on. “And got away with it because of the power his position gave him. I gather he had a pretty impressive record with the Las Vegas police. I know he was older than her. Her family—both parents and a brother—were killed in a car accident when Meri was a kid. She was alone in the world. She married him at eighteen, and the first time he hit her was less than a year later. She stayed with him nine years.”
He would’ve felt disloyal telling Meri’s secrets if Chantel had been just a friend. But she was a cop. And would help him find Meri.
“It took Steve less than three months to track her down the first time she left. He was still a Las Vegas detective back then. She got away almost immediately and managed to elude him for about a year that second time.”
“This guy’s determined.” Chantel sounded serious. All cop. And Max took his first easy breath in more than twenty-four hours.
Hold on, Meri.
Help is on the way.
Dear Reader,
Sometimes circumstances trap us in situations that defy logical solutions. The “right” things have all been tried. They’ve all failed. And the human spirit—hope—suffers.
But, always, there is a force that’s stronger than logic. Stronger than anything the human mind can conjure up. That force resides in the human spirit; it’s there, waiting to spring into action. All it needs is for us to let it go—to set it free to work.
And, always, one of the hardest things to do is give in to the intangible, the often illogical something inside us—to trust it and follow its dictates. Sometimes we lose hope and settle for a situation that isn’t ideal.
Sometimes, though, trusting that far-too-quiet inner voice is the only way we’ll survive.
Husband by Choice is the story of one such situation. And the woman who thought herself weak, but who’s actually strong enough to listen to her heart, to act on the instinct inside her even though it drives her straight into danger. This story is fiction. I don’t recommend that any woman face violence on her own. I do, however, fully embrace every woman’s right to live by her heart. To fight for that right. And to know ultimate joy.
May we all be a part of the sisterhood shared by the special women who come and go at The Lemonade Stand!
I love to hear from my readers. Please connect with me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram, visit me at www.tarataylorquinn.com or write to [email protected].
Tara Taylor Quinn
TARA TAYLOR
QUINN
Husband by Choice
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
With sixty-eight original novels, published in more than twenty languages, Tara Taylor Quinn is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She is a winner of the 2008 National Reader’s Choice Award, four-time finalist for an RWA RITA® Award, a finalist for the Reviewer’s Choice Award, the Bookseller’s Best Award and the Holt Medallion, and appears regularly on Amazon bestseller lists. Tara Taylor Quinn is a past president of Romance Writers of America and served for eight years on its board of directors. She is in demand as a public speaker and has appeared on television and radio shows across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. Tara is a spokesperson for the National Domestic Violence Hotline, and she and her husband, Tim, sponsor an annual in-line skating race in Phoenix to benefit the fight against domestic violence.
When she’s not at home in Arizona with Tim and their canine owners, Jerry Lee and Taylor Marie, or fulfilling speaking engagements, Tara spends her time traveling and in-line skating.
Books by Tara Taylor Quinn
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1309—THE PROMISE OF CHRISTMAS
1350—A CHILD’S WISH
1381—MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABIES
1428—SARA’S SON
1446—THE BABY GAMBLE
1465—THE VALENTINE GIFT
“Valentine’s Daughters”
1500—TRUSTING RYAN
1527—THE HOLIDAY VISITOR
1550—SOPHIE’S SECRET*
1584—A DAUGHTER’S TRUST
1656—THE FIRST WIFE‡
1726—FULL CONTACT*
1793—A SON’S TALE^
1811—A DAUGHTER’S STORY^
1829—THE TRUTH ABOUT COMFORT COVE^
1853—IT’S NEVER TOO LATE*
1877—SECOND TIME’S THE CHARM*
1889—THE MOMENT OF TRUTH*
1906—WIFE BY DESIGN+
1930—ONCE A FAMILY+
SINGLE TITLE
SHELTERED IN HIS ARMS
EVERLASTING LOVE
THE NIGHT WE MET
HARLEQUIN MIRA
WHERE THE ROAD ENDS
STREET SMART
HIDDEN
IN PLAIN SIGHT
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
AT CLOSE RANGE
THE SECOND LIE‡
THE THIRD SECRET‡
THE FOURTH VICTIM‡
THE FRIENDSHIP PACT
*Shelter Valley Stories
‡Chapman Files
^It Happened in
Comfort Cove
+Where Secrets are Safe
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
For Adam. I pray that you are, now and forever, my daughter’s “Max.”
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
“SHA SHA, MAMA. Sha sha! Geen, Go! Geen, Go!”
Easing her foot slowly off the brake as the traffic signal turned from red to green, Meredith Smith Bennet tuned out Caleb’s chatter because she had to.
And took comfort from it at the same time. The blond-haired toddler, strapped into his car seat behind her, kicked his feet repeatedly with glee. Sha sha—French fries. That was all it took for him to be happy. The anticipation of a French fry.
With a glance in the rearview mirror, keeping the small green car four vehicles back in the other lane in sight, she turned left at the familiar Santa Raquel corner.
“Sha sha, Mama! Sha sha!”
She’d promised Caleb French fries at his favorite fast food place—a treat on the one day a week he had to spend an afternoon at day care—and he’d had his eye on the Golden Arches where they’d been heading before she’d been forced to turn off the main drag.
“Sha shaaaaa!”
Instead of excitement, she heard the beginning of tears in his voice as the arches disappeared from view. The green car had made an illegal right turn, cutting off another vehicle to cross over two lanes.
“I know, Caleb,” she said. Her son was not goin
g to suffer. Or know fear. Not by her hand. “In a minute,” she said, keeping her voice light and cheerful—her husband’s description of her “mommy” voice. A voice he was certain he’d never tire of hearing.
But he’d also been certain that Steve was in the past.
“Mama’s going a different way,” she continued, changing lanes without a signal and making a quick left turn the second she saw the chance.
As luck would have it, she was able to cross three lanes and make a right and then another left turn before the not new, not old, not big and not particularly small green car with the black-haired man behind the wheel could follow.
She’d lost him.
For now.
* * *
PEDIATRICIAN MAX BENNET was finishing up his afternoon’s charting, listening to the chatter of the front office staff in the clinic he shared with several other family physicians. His private cell phone buzzed at his hip.
Last he’d spoken to his wife, she’d been leaving to take Caleb for French fries on his way to day care. But Meri knew his last patient, a four-year-old needing a well-check, had been at three. She probably needed him to stop for milk on the way home. Or vanilla wafers. Caleb was addicted to them. And since they were the only sweets the little guy was allowed....
The caller wasn’t his wife of three years. It was Caleb’s day care.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Bennet, but Mrs. Bennet isn’t here yet and Caleb’s not happy. He’s been upset since she dropped him off, but it’s gotten steadily worse. He’s crying so hard he just threw up.”
He and Meredith had disagreed on the whole day care thing. He’d thought it was important that Max be integrated. She’d wanted to keep the toddler with her or a private sitter.
She was paranoid about safety. With good reason.
But Caleb had grown too attached to them—the separation anxiety he was experiencing was, in part, their fault.
Harlequin Superromance September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: This Good ManPromises Under the Peach TreeHusband by Choice Page 55