by Hope Ramsay
“How so? According to my partner, who was assembling the land for our factory until his untimely death, the parcel of land in question is not being used productively.”
Not being used productively. Wow. How totally smug of him. No doubt the man thought that the only productive use of land was in supporting the lifestyles of the rich and aristocratic. “How much do you know about the parcel in question?” she asked.
“Not very much, except that the fellow who owns it won’t sell. It’s a very small piece of land, too, which makes it even more irritating. I have offered quite a bit more than I can afford, actually.”
Like he couldn’t up the ante on the land. “Do you need this particular piece of land for the factory project? Couldn’t you—”
“Without it, I won’t have access to the rail line or the main highway. I’ve tried petitioning the state for road improvements, but I gather the public coffers are empty. So, the only viable way to get good road and rail access is through this parcel. I need to acquire it, or there will be no factory.”
The waiter returned and placed a huge portion of roast beef in front of His Lordship and an itty-bitty salad in front of Caroline.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” deBracy asked, frowning down at her tiny plate.
She ignored his question. Caroline had been battling her weight all her life and didn’t feel like discussing that with a member of the English aristocracy.
She picked up her fork and speared a piece of romaine. “Lord deBracy,” she said with a guileless smile, “I’m just so sorry, but there is nothing I can do to help you.”
He looked up as he cut his roast, obviously annoyed by the fact that she had, once again, massacred his title. He didn’t correct her this time, though. He just frowned and said, “The senator told me that you could—”
“Oh, well, don’t you mind him. He’s a dear, but he is not aware of the complications.”
“What complications?” DeBracy conveyed the meat to his mouth and chewed. The muscles worked in his cheeks, and he managed to look debonair, even with his mouth full.
She had to mentally shake herself just to keep her mind on the conversation. She leaned forward. “The man who owns the land is not going to change his mind. Trust me on this.”
“Is that because he’s an eccentric? I’ve heard the man is a little bit ‘round the bend.’ ”
Caroline laid her silverware across her plate and dropped her hands to her lap. She intertwined her fingers and squeezed. She wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. But she needed her job to pay her condo fees and the interest on her maxed-out credit cards. “Some people think he’s eccentric,” she said.
“In what way?”
Caroline braced herself for the ridicule of the high-and-mighty peer sitting across the table. Then she said, “He speaks with angels.”
“Really? How remarkable. What do they say?”
For the first time, Hugh deBracy had surprised her. “You did hear me, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I’m not deaf. What do the angels say?”
“They are opposed to selling the land.”
“Well, that’s predictable. We’ll just have to convince the angels otherwise, won’t we?”
“Um, I don’t think we can do that. There are additional complications.”
“Aren’t there always?” he said.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. You see, he’s built an eighteen-hole miniature golf course on the land and dedicated it to the Lord.”
“Mini-golf?” DeBracy had stopped chewing. It was hard to tell if he was shocked, amused, or surprised. The man had not reacted to any of this in a normal fashion. What kind of game was he playing?
She plastered her Southern belle smile on her face and answered, “Yes, miniature golf. You know: small holes, putting only, lots of fiberglass hazards and obstacles.”
His Lordship nodded, one cheek still filled with unchewed beef.
“Only in this case,” Caroline continued rapidly, determined to get the truth out quickly, “there are eighteen holes, each depicting either an Old Testament Bible story or a chapter in the life of our Lord Jesus Christ. The place is a bit notorious, actually. It was featured last year in the online guide Bizarre America: The Ultimate Guide to Tasteless Tourist Traps.”
His Lordship choked on the steak he had neglected to chew. His face turned red, and for a moment Caroline thought she might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him. She couldn’t live with herself if Golfing for God were the cause of his untimely demise.
Luckily, first aid was not required. He cleared the obstruction and reached for his water glass. His Adam’s apple danced as he swallowed. The motion was almost hypnotic.
Caroline pulled her gaze away and tried to keep her brain engaged in the business conversation. “I guess your late partner didn’t tell you about Golfing for God, huh?” she said, once deBracy had finished his water.
He laid his silverware across his plate and then wiped his lips with his napkin. “No, George didn’t provide those details. I did hear from the real estate chap that the owner of the land in question is a complete nutter. But I was given to understand that the business on the property is no longer in operation. Is that Not correct?”
Nutter. UK vernacular for “crazy as a loon.” Caroline stifled a sigh and continued. “Golfing for God was hit by a hurricane and a lightning storm last fall. It’s not currently in operation, but there is a movement to—”
“Good, then I should be able to negotiate with the man who Owns it. I’m planning to pop down there to have a look ’round tomorrow.”
It was her moment to choke. Luckily, she didn’t have any food in her mouth. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know who you’ve been dealing with in South Carolina, but anyone in Last Chance will tell you that trying to get Elbert Rhodes to sell his property would take a miracle. Literally.”
“Elbert Rhodes?” That eyebrow of his curled upward again. The man ought to have a quizzing glass.
Fire crawled over Caroline’s face. She had managed to tell the truth, and now she would have to endure his snotty, snide, superior laughter.
“That’s right, Lord deBracy. Elbert Rhodes, the owner of Golfing for God, is my father.”
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Christie Craig
Dear Reader,
As an author of seven humorous suspense romance novels, I’m often asked how I come up with my characters. Since the truth isn’t all that fun to describe—that I find these people in the cobwebs of my mind—I usually just tell folks that I post a want ad on Craigslist.
One of those folks replied that she’d be checking out my ad and applying for the position of romance heroine. Right then I wondered if she’d ever read a Christie Craig book. Well, it’s not just my books—every good story is really a triumph over tragedy. (Of course, I have my own lighter spin on tragedy.) And by the ending of my books, my heroines have found a man who’s smoking hot and deserving of their affection, and they’ve experienced a triumph that’s sweeter than warm fudge. Friendships have been forged, and even the craziest of families have grown a whole lot closer. And I do love crazy families. Probably because I have one of my own. Hmm, maybe I get some of my characters from there, too.
Point is, my heroines had to earn their Happily Ever After. The job requires a lot of spunk.
Take poor Nikki Hunt in DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS, the first book in my Hotter in Texas series, for example. Her cheating ex ditches her at dinner and sticks her with the bill. She then finds his dead body stuffed in the trunk of her car, which makes her lose her two-hundred-dollar meal all over his three-thousand-dollar suit. Now, not only is Nikki nearly broke, she’s been poisoned, she’s barfing in public (now, that’s a tragedy), and, worse still, she’s a murder suspect. And that’s only the first chapter. Nikki’s fun is just beginning. You’ve hardly met Nik
ki’s grandma, who epitomizes those family members who drive you bonkers, even though you know your life would be empty without them.
As we say in the South, Nikki’s got a hard row to hoe. For certain, it takes a kick-ass woman to be a Christie Craig heroine. She’s gotta be able to laugh, because sometimes that’s all you can do. She’s gotta be able to fight, because life is about battles. (I don’t care if it’s with an ex-husband, a plumber, or a new puppy unwilling to house-train.) And she’s gotta be able to love, because honestly, love is really what my novels are about. Well, that and overcoming flaws, jumping over hurdles, and finding the occasional dead body.
So while in real life you may never want to undergo the misadventures of a Christie Craig heroine, I’m counting on the fact that you’ll laugh with her, root for her, and fall in love alongside her. And here’s hoping that when you close my book, you are happy you’ve met the characters who live in the cobwebs of my mind.
And remember my motto for life: Laugh, love, read.
www.christie-craig.com
From the desk of Isobel Carr
Dear Reader,
I’ve always loved the “Oh no, I’m in love with my best friend’s sister!” trope. It doesn’t matter what the genre or setting is, we all know sisters are forbidden fruit. This scenario is just so full of pitfalls and angst and opportunities for brothers to be protective and for men to have to really, really prove (and not just to the girl) that they love the girl. How can you not adore it?
Add in the complications of a younger son’s lot in life—lack of social standing, lack of fortune, lack of prospects—and you’ve got quite the series of hurdles to overcome before the couple can attain their Happily Ever After (especially if the girl he loves is the daughter of a duke).
If you read the first book in the League of Second Sons series, you’ve already met the sister in question, Lady Boudicea “Beau” Vaughn. She’s a bit of a tomboy and always seems to be on the verge of causing a scandal, but she means well, and she’s got a fierce heart.
You will have also met the best friend, Gareth Sandison. He’s a committed bachelor, unquestionably a rake, and he’s about to have everything he’s ever wanted—but knew he could never have—dangled in front of him… but he’s going to have to risk friendship and honor to get it. And even then, things may not work out quite as he expected.
I hope you’ll enjoy letting Gareth show you what it means to be RIPE FOR SCANDAL.
www.isobelcarr.com
From the desk of Hope Ramsay
Dear Reader,
In late 2010, while I was writing HOME AT LAST CHANCE, something magical happened that changed the direction of the story.
A friend sent me an e-mail with a missing pet poster attached. This particular poster had a banner headline that read “Missing Unicorn,” over a black-and-white photograph of the most beautiful unicorn I have ever seen. The flyer said that the lost unicorn had last been seen entering Central Park and provided a 1-800 number for tips that would lead to the lost unicorn’s safe return.
The unicorn poster made me smile.
A few days later, my friend sent me a news story about how hundreds of people in New York had seen this poster and had started calling in reports of unicorn sightings. Eventually, the unicorn sightings spread from Manhattan all the way to places in Australia and Europe.
At that point, the missing unicorn captured my imagination.
The worldwide unicorn sightings proved that if people take a moment to look hard, with an innocent heart, they can see unicorns and angels and a million miracles all around them. As we grow up, we forget how to look. We get caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily living, and unicorns become myths. But for a small time, in New York City, a bunch of “Missing Unicorn” posters made people stop, smile, and see miracles.
The missing unicorn and his message wormed its way right into my story and substantially changed the way I wrote the character of Hettie Marshall, Last Chance’s Queen Bee. Sarah Murray, my heroine, tells Hettie to look at Golfing for God through the eyes of a child. When Hettie heeds this advice, she realizes that she’s lost something important in her life. Her sudden desire to recapture a simple faith becomes a powerful agent of change for her and, ultimately, for Last Chance itself. And of course, little Haley Rhodes helps to seal the deal. Haley is a master at seeing what the adult world misses altogether.
I hope you keep your ability to wonder at the world around you—to see it like a child does. You might find a missing unicorn—or maybe a Sorrowful Angel.
From the desk of Dee Davis
Dear Reader,
Settings are a critical part of every book. They help establish the tone, give insight into characters, and act as the backdrop for the narrative that drives the story forward. Who can forget the first line of Rebecca—“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” The brooding house in the middle of the English moors sets us up from the very beginning for the psychological drama that is the center of the book.
When I first conceptualize a novel, I often start with the settings. Where exactly will my characters feel most at home? What places evoke the rhythm and pacing of the book? Because my books tend to involve a lot of adventure, the settings often change with the flow of the story. And when it came time to find the settings for DEEP DISCLOSURE, I knew without a doubt that Alexis would be living in New Orleans.
One of my favorite cities, I love the quirky eccentricities of the Big Easy, and I wanted to share some of my favorites with readers, including the Garden District and the French Quarter. Of course, Alexis and Tucker don’t stay in New Orleans long, and it isn’t surprising that they wind up in Colorado.
We moved a lot when I was a kid, and one of the few stable things in my life was spending summers in Creede. But because I’ve used Creede already in so many books, I decided this time to use the neighboring town of South Fork as the place where George has his summer retreat. And Walsenburg—one of the places we often stopped for groceries on the way to Creede—as the scene of Alexis’s family’s disaster.
I confess that Redlands, Tucker and Drake’s home, is a place I’ve never actually visited. But a dear friend lived there for several years and tells such wonderful stories about it that it seemed the perfect place for my boys to have grown up and developed their love of baseball.
And of course Sunderland College, while fictional, is indeed based on a real place: Hendrix College, my alma mater. I spent a wonderful four years there, and I hope you enjoy your time at Sunderland with A-Tac as much!
For insight into both Alexis and Tucker, here are some songs I listened to while writing DEEP DISCLOSURE:
The Kill, by Thirty Seconds to Mars
Breathe (2 am), by Anna Nalick
Need You Now, by Lady Antebellum
And as always, check out deedavis.com for more inside info about my writing and my books.
Happy Reading!
Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
A Preview of Last Chance Beauty Queen
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
The Dish
Praise for Welcome to Last Chance
Copyright
PRAISE FOR
Welcome to Last Chance
“Ramsay’s delicious contemporary debut introduces the town of Last Chance, S.C., and its warmhearted inhabitants… [she] strikes an excellent balance between tension and humor as s
he spins a fine yarn.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Full of small-town charm and southern heat… humorous, heartwarming, and sexy. I couldn’t put it down!”
—Robin Wells, author of Still the One
“A sweet confection… This first of a projected series about the Rhodes brothers offers up Southern hospitality with a bit of grit. Romance readers will be delighted.”
—Library Journal
“Hope Ramsay delivers with this sweet and sassy story of small-town love, friendship, and the ties that bind.”
—Lisa Dale, author of Simple Wishes
“Touching… funny…. Ramsay’s characters were endearing and lovable, and I eagerly look forward to the rest of [the series].”
—NovelReaction.com
“A sweet romance… sassy and fun characters.”
—Book Hounds (maryinhb.blogspot.com)
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Robin Lanier
Excerpt from Last Chance Beauty Queen Copyright © 2011 by Robin Lanier
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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