by Jane Godman
He swung her off her feet, kissing her until she was dizzy and breathless. When he set her down again, the blaze of love in his eyes did nothing to restore her balance.
“Wait. You said you’d been doing some thinking as well.”
“Okay. Hear me out on this.” She smoothed down the front of his jacket with her hand. “I don’t want you to change your job, but how would you feel about relocating to the Tucson field office?”
He frowned down at her. “Any particular reason?”
“I’d like to formally adopt Kennedy and raise her here in Cactus Creek.” She watched his reaction carefully. “I know you left this place because you wanted to move on from the small-town atmosphere, but that’s exactly the sort of experience I want for her. And I want her to be close to her new family.”
“There are no objections from me about adopting Kennedy, but what about your job?”
“After the holidays, I could speak to the principal of the Cactus Creek Elementary School. I’d only want to work part-time when my maternity leave is over. Kennedy has been through so much. And I thought your mom and dad might like to care for her while I was at work. If they can fit that in with their own work schedules, of course. If not, I can speak to Patty about suitable daycare.”
He whistled. “You’ve really given this some thought. Where would we live? The Dodds’ mansion?”
She shuddered. “Not a chance. That place is tainted. As Kennedy’s trustee, you should look into selling it and investing the money for her future.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.” He took her by the shoulders, turning her until she was facing away from his parents’ home. “See that property close to the tree line? That’s Casey’s place.” He shifted position slightly. “And that plot of land over there belongs to me. How would you feel about designing our own home? Right here? We could make sure there was plenty of space for towels.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this as well.”
He laughed at her surprised expression. “For a long time, I was happy to stay away from Cactus Creek. But now I have a family of my own, I can see its advantages.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “Despite everything that’s happened. This is turning out to be a happy Christmas.”
“It’s about to get even better.” He reached into his inside pocket, then pulled out the slightly squashed sprig of mistletoe. As he held it over their heads, he smiled. “And just so you know, I plan on distracting you with sex a lot, Alyssa Bartholomew. Start getting used to it.”
* * *
If you loved this thrilling romance,
don’t miss Jane Godman’s
Sons of Stillwater miniseries:
Secret Baby, Second Chance
The Soldier’s Seduction
Covert Kisses
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Detective on the Hunt
by Marilyn Pappano
Prologue
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fire you.”
Quint Foster kept his gaze steady on the upturned Stetson on Sam Douglas’s desk, kept his jaw shut tight and every muscle in his body wound like a spring. If he tried to answer the chief’s question, if he relaxed his control just that little bit, he would fall apart in a way he never had before. Never could.
Because he didn’t have the courage to put himself back together again.
“Damn it, Quint, you showed up drunk at a crime scene. You assaulted a prisoner in custody. What the hell—”
Sam broke off. Quint knew the question: What the hell is wrong with you? Just as Sam knew the answer: Belinda. The day she’d died, so had Quint. His body just hadn’t been smart enough to catch on. His brain functioned enough to keep his heart beating, but not enough to make him care about a damn thing. He’d lost everything that mattered except his job, and that was coming.
The thought echoed through the hollowness inside him. Losing his job... All he’d ever been, all he’d ever wanted to be, was a cop. For nearly twenty years, he’d been a good one. He’d advanced through the ranks to assistant chief. If things had continued as they’d been, he likely would have succeeded Sam as chief, if he didn’t retire before the boss.
Now, in another ten minutes, maybe fifteen if Sam was pissed enough, he would be turning in his badge and commission. He would walk out the front door for the last time, and he would truly have no reason to get out of bed again.
Sam remained silent, his steely glare unwavering. Quint didn’t have what it took to look at him, but he could feel the disapproval and disappointment and disgust radiating around him. He’d never imagined the day he would lose his boss’s respect, but here it was. It was only by the grace of God that Sam hadn’t thrown his ass in jail.
By the grace of something. Quint didn’t believe in God anymore. Maybe he was real, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he existed for other people but not for Quint. Every prayer, every plea, every moment he’d spent begging on his knees had been for nothing. Linny had died. He hadn’t.
“Damn it, Quint.” This time the words sounded more sorrowful than angry. Sam raked his fingers through his hair. “What am I supposed to do?”
For the first time in seventy-two hours, Quint made eye contact with his boss. His gut was knotted with dread at losing that last part of himself. He wanted to go to the men’s room and puke up everything in his stomach, then he wanted to go to the nearest bar and refill it with the cheapest crap they had. He wanted to die.
What he did was stand up very carefully. He pulled his badge from his belt, took his credentials from his back pocket and unholstered the gun on his hip. He had to clear his throat twice to make his voice work. “I’ll make it easy for you, Sam. I quit.”
Sam wasn’t surprised. “I don’t want you to quit. You’re a good cop, and I need good cops. I just need you to...”
If he said, “Get over it,” Quint would punch him in the face, and if he hit him once, he wouldn’t stop until he was pulled off.
“I need you to deal with it, Quint,” Sam said quietly. “I can’t even begin to guess how hard this is for you. Belinda was your world, and it’s unfair as hell that she’s gone, but you’re not. You can’t just crawl into your grief and wait to die. It’s not what she’d want. It’s not even what you want, or you would have already done something.”
Quint didn’t know if he should argue that last statement. He felt every year of his forty years twice over. He was tired. Worn-out. Hopeless. Faithless. Alone. Every morning since her death, he’d woken up and thought, damn, he’d survived another night. For a while, it had been a good damn. Everyone had told him—his family, his friends, Linny’s pastor—that recovery was a one-day-at-a-time deal. He was supposed to be grateful for each day he made it through, and in return, God was supposed to make each successive day a little easier.
It hadn’t happened.
“I don’t want you to quit,” Sam said again, “but I can’t keep you as assistant chief. I have to put you on probation. Back in uniform. Back on the street. Are you willing to do that?”
A sound halfway between a snort and a laugh escaped Quint. He sank
into the chair again, rubbing hard at his eyes. He hadn’t been in uniform since he’d met Linny twelve years ago. He didn’t even own the current uniform; suits or tactical pants and polo shirts had been his work clothes. Everyone in the department—hell, in the whole damn town—would know he’d been demoted. They would scorn him or pity him. No one would ask his opinion, respect his judgment or even acknowledge all his years of good work. He’d be a patrol officer again, writing tickets, filling out reports on inconsequential incidents, turning the important cases—the cases he’d handled himself the past twelve years—over to detectives to investigate.
But he would still be a cop. He would still have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. And given what he’d done, that was a hell of a lot more than he deserved.
His jaw didn’t want to unclench. His mouth didn’t want to form words, but he forced them out. “Yes, Chief. I’m willing.”
Copyright © 2019 by Marilyn Pappano
ISBN-13: 9781488041563
Colton 911: Family Under Fire
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Jane Godman for her contribution to the Colton 911 miniseries.
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