“I have lots of support materials.”
“Good. I like having the facts.” Haley ran her hands over his face, as if she couldn’t believe he was really with her. “You drove all night,” she whispered. “You really drove all night.”
Damon nodded, liking that she was starting to smile. “I did. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.”
She blushed a little, clearly pleased.
“I never felt like this before, Haley.”
“Me, neither.” She was holding so tightly to his hand that Damon thought his fingers might go numb. He didn’t care.
He bent to whisper in her ear, amazed that he could be so lucky as to have this woman in his life. “I owe you an apology and I need to thank you. That’s long overdue.”
“I like the way you say thank you,” she whispered.
“Yeah. I like it too, but only with you.”
She drew back a little then, clearly delighted, her hands still running over him. “You need something to eat, then a shower...”
She was doing it again, her adorable triage and making of lists, but this time, he was the focus of her attention. Damon’s heart squeezed tightly that he would have Haley looking out for him, worrying about him, even as he put his thumb over her lips to silence her.
“I need you,” he said, because it was true. “And not one thing more.”
She looked a little more worried than he’d expected. “What about F5?”
“I don’t know. We’ll work something out. They were talking about a branch in Chicago.”
“You’ll leave New York for me?”
“Home is where you are, Haley. If this is your dream job, then we’ll be here.”
“Even though I still have Ninja?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
Damon looked up to see a familiar silhouette on the window sill, tail flicking. “Even so.” He framed Haley’s face in his hands, needing to know just one more thing. “Will you marry me, Haley Slater?”
“Yes, oh yes, oh yes!” she said, jumping into his arms. Damon kissed her, pouring his relief into his kiss, and tried to show her with his touch what he couldn’t put into words.
He wasn’t fully healed. He might never be. But he knew that he and Haley could conquer whatever obstacles were before them, because they would do it together.
And that was the very best promise for the future of all.
* * *
Thank you!
Thanks for reading In the Midnight Hour.
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There’s an excerpt from Some Guys Have All the Luck after this, which is the next book in the Flatiron Five series.
All my best
Deborah
* * *
An Excerpt from Some Guys Have All the Luck
Flatiron Five #4
Cassie has everything she wants…
Cassie Wilson’s life is pretty much perfect with a dream job, great partners—and the freedom to do whatever she wants whenever she wants. The last thing she wants is to go back to Montrose River, the town she couldn’t wait to leave, and be treated like a failure because she didn’t choose marriage and babies. But when her oldest friend asks her to be godmother, Cassie is persuaded to make a difference in the little girl’s life. Maybe she can teach little Hope to dream big and move beyond Montrose River, too. Maybe that will be her legacy. Besides, one weekend in the Midwest won’t kill her. She’ll be back in Manhattan so quickly that they won’t have time to miss her at Flatiron Five.
* * *
Reid knows what he wants…
Reid Jackson is convinced that opportunity comes to those who look for it. Keeping his eyes open has been the secret to his success, along with a steady run of good luck. He might have come from the wrong side of the tracks, but hard work has paid off handsomely—except that he’s still single. Cassie Wilson barely noticed Reid in high school but when she comes breezing back into town, turning heads and ruffling feathers, she takes a good look at him. Reid’s more than ready to seize the chance—but he’ll need all his legendary luck if he’s going to convince Cassie to stay.
* * *
Excerpt from Some Guys Have All the Luck
Copyright ©2018 Deborah A. Cooke
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It was true that no good deed went unpunished.
Reid surveyed the mess from the shattered jar of dill pickles and shook his head. “Lionel?” he called, not really expecting an answer.
There wasn’t one.
He strode to the back room of the Montrose River Shop ’n Save and got the mop and bucket. He grabbed the dustbin and broom in the other hand, yelled for Lionel one more time knowing it was an exercise in futility, and went back to the pickle aisle. Naturally, it had been the extra large size jar. He’d swept up the glass and most of the pickles by the time Lionel appeared at the end of the aisle.
The kid looked sheepish.
To be fair, Lionel always looked embarrassed or as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. He was a really tall kid, almost as tall as Reid even at sixteen, and so thin that if he turned sideways, he just might disappear. Reid was halfway convinced that if he looked up “nerd” in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Lionel. He had thick glasses with masking tape in the middle as well as on one side. The poor kid’s mother really did dress him funny: his jeans were always a bit too short and his shirts were awful. Today’s choice was a plaid flannel shirt that was probably warm but its orange and turquoise pattern was painful to look upon.
He’d given the kid a job in the hope of helping him. One week in, Reid was starting to doubt his impulse.
“Sorry,” Lionel said, a familiar tremor in his voice. The kid had the biggest Adam’s apple Reid had ever seen and it worked up and down all the time.
“Where’d you go?” Reid asked as he started to mop up the brine. He reminded himself that Lionel’s looks and his clothes weren’t the kid’s fault. Even his name wasn’t his fault.
Who named a kid Lionel?
“Um, I had to leave.”
“Because there was a mess to clean up? Because you don’t like the smell of dills?”
Lionel flushed and dropped his gaze. “Sorry.”
Reid leaned on the mop. “Maybe you could tell me what happened.” He knew Lionel would tell him every detail. The kid couldn’t summarize to save his life. He either apologized, with no explanation, or delivered a lecture.
“Mrs. Lang couldn’t reach the pickles.” Lionel gestured to the top shelf, where this size of jar and brand of pickle was displayed. “She asked me to get her a jar, so I stopped unpacking the salsa.” He indicated the box of bottled salsa open and half-emptied at the other end of the aisle. “And I got a jar of pickles for her.”
“All right. So far, so good. How’d they end up on the floor?”
Lionel’s blush deepened. “When I turned around, Reyna was with her.”
“Reyna Lang, Mrs. Lang’s daughter. Okay. Did she break the jar?”
“No!” Lionel became almost incoherent in his agitation. “She was there. She was looking at me. It was Reyna! It slipped. It broke. I ran.”
Reid pushed a hand through his hair. “Does this mean you like Reyna?” He watche
d Lionel hang his head. “Or is it all sixteen-year-old girls who are cute?”
“Reyna,” Lionel mumbled miserably.
“So, in future, you’re only going to bolt and run when Reyna comes into the store? Because I can have Jackie make an announcement whenever the Langs come into the store, and you can hide in the back until they’re gone...”
“No!” Lionel wailed.
“Or you could actually stay out here, do your job, and talk to her.”
All the color drained from Lionel’s face. “You don’t understand, sir.”
“I do understand. But you need to man up here, Lionel, and actually do your job when you’re getting paid to do your job. And when you make a mess, you need to clean it up. Someone could slip and fall.”
“Sorry.”
“Did Mrs. Lang get her pickles?”
“I don’t know.”
“Probably not, since she couldn’t reach them.” Reid took a jar and handed it to Lionel. “Go find her, give her the pickles, apologize, and tell her they’re with my compliments.”
Lionel took a step backward, clutching the jar. “But Reyna might be with her!”
“I expect she is. You could say hi to her while you’re there.”
Lionel shook from head to toe, his eyes wide with horror. His Adam’s apple went up and down like a jammed elevator. “You don’t understand, sir. I like Reyna but she never looks at me...”
Reid interrupted him. “I’m telling you to do this because I understand perfectly. When I was your age, I worked here, doing just what you do. It was my first job. I didn’t look very different from you, either, and there was this girl.” He inhaled, remembering. “Cassie. She was gorgeous. I worshipped her but she didn’t even know I was alive.”
Lionel gripped the jar, rapt. “What happened?”
“Nothing, because I was terrified to talk to her. She left town and is gone forever.” He leaned closer. “I missed my chance, Lionel, because I was a chicken.” Lionel swallowed. “What would she have done if I’d spoke to her?”
“Laughed?”
Reid shook his head. “Probably not. She probably would have answered me. She was a nice girl, just like Reyna is a nice girl. There’s really not a lot to risk here.”
Lionel swallowed and stared past Reid down the aisle. “Really?”
“Really. Take Mrs. Lang the pickles, then come back and mop this floor one more time. I want to be sure there aren’t any glass shards anywhere.”
“Yes, sir.” Lionel walked past Reid, clutching that jar as if that would give him confidence.
Reid hoped the kid would manage to do it. He spotted a dill under the lip of the shelf down by the box of salsa and went to sweep it up. He’d only taken two steps when he heard the distinctive sound of a second jar of pickles smashing on the floor.
“Lionel!” he roared in frustration and spun.
He froze, his words dying on his lips.
There was a woman coming down the aisle, navigating her way around the pickles and an astonished Lionel. It was no wonder Lionel was staring: she was gorgeous. Dressed all in black, she was wearing a short skirt and a leather jacket. Her hair was gleaming blonde, and swept up high. Earrings glittered on her earlobes and she wore fine leather gloves. Red ones. Her lipstick was the same color of red. She looked polished and expensive.
She looked so different from the women in Montrose River that she might have come from Mars.
It was her black leather boots that stole his breath away, though. They were amazing. They had pointed toes and stiletto heels and rose so high that the tops disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Fetish boots, or as close to them as Reid had seen in a very long time.
She’d come from the city. Reid wasn’t sure which city, but it was one he really wanted to visit.
He also wanted to find the top of those boots and feel her smooth skin wherever they ended. His mouth went dry and he felt a little too much commonality with Lionel.
Because as sure as he drew breath, she was Cassie Wilson, all grown up and more beautiful than ever.
She smiled at Lionel as she passed him, spared a glance for Reid, then continued down the aisle toward the salsa. “Excuse me,” she said and Reid stepped back, because he was standing in the middle of the aisle, staring.
“Don’t slip,” he managed to say before she did exactly that.
He saw her eyes widen and her lips part. He heard her heel slide on the linoleum, then he caught her around the waist. He was holding her tightly against his side, his every teenage fantasy come to life, and thought he might have died and gone to heaven.
“Thank you,” she said, then looked at him again. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you Reid Jackson?”
He’d been sure for twenty years that she didn’t even know his name.
But she did, and she was back in town, and that to Reid meant there was an opportunity to set things to rights.
He wasn’t the kind of man who let opportunity go to waste.
* * *
Some Guys Have All the Luck
Flatiron Five #4
Coming June 26, 2018
* * *
About the Author
Deborah Cooke sold her first book in 1992, a medieval romance called Romance of the Rose published under her pseudonym Claire Delacroix. Since then, she has published over fifty novels in a wide variety of sub-genres, including historical romance, contemporary romance, paranormal romance, fantasy romance, time-travel romance, women’s fiction, paranormal young adult and fantasy with romantic elements. She has published under the names Claire Delacroix, Claire Cross and Deborah Cooke. The Beauty, part of her successful Bride Quest series of historical romances, was her first title to land on the New York Times List of Bestselling Books. Her books routinely appear on other bestseller lists and have won numerous awards. In 2009, she was the writer-in-residence at the Toronto Public Library, the first time the library has hosted a residency focused on the romance genre. In 2012, she was honored to receive the Romance Writers of America’s Mentor of the Year Award.
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Currently, she writes contemporary romances and paranormal romances under the name Deborah Cooke. She also writes medieval romances as Claire Delacroix. Deborah lives in Canada with her husband and family, as well as far too many unfinished knitting projects.
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Visit Deborah’s Website and Blog
* * *
Visit Claire’s Website and Blog
* * *
More Books by the Author
Books by Deborah Cooke
* * *
Contemporary Romance:
The Coxwells
THIRD TIME LUCKY
DOUBLE TROUBLE
ONE MORE TIME
ALL OR NOTHING
* * *
Flatiron Five
SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE
ADDICTED TO LOVE
IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
SOME GUYS HAVE ALL THE LUCK (2018)
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Paranormal Romances:
The Dragonfire Series
KISS OF FIRE
KISS OF FURY
KISS OF FATE
Harmonia’s Kiss
WINTER KISS
WHISPER KISS
DARKFIRE KISS
FLASHFIRE
EMBER’S KISS
THE DRAGON LEGION COLLECTION
SERPENT’S KISS
FIRESTORM FOREVER
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The Dragons of Incendium
WYVERN’S MATE
Nero’s Dream
WYVERN’S PRINCE
Arista’s Legacy
WYVERN’S WARRIOR
Kraw’s Secret
WYVERN’S OUTLAW
Celo’s Quest
WYVERN’S ANGEL (2018)
* * *
Urban Fantasy Romance
The Prometheus Project
FALLEN
GUARDIAN
REBEL
ABYSS
* * *
/> Paranormal Young Adult:
The Dragon Diaries
FLYING BLIND
WINGING IT
BLAZING THE TRAIL
* * *
Learn about Claire Delacroix
historical romances on
Claire’s website.
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In the Midnight Hour Page 27