by Laurie Lewis
Almost Everything by Taylor Hart
The Lucky Billionaire by Jeanette Lewis
Hawaiian Masquerade by Rachelle J. Christensen
Caribbean Rescue by Cami Checketts
Cozumel Escape by Cami Checketts
Everything to Lose by Jennifer Youngblood and Sandra Poole
The Angler, the Baker, and the Billionaire by Amberley Day
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Continue reading for excerpts from Almost Everything and Cowboy Reality Romance: Kip.
About the Author
Laurie (L.C.) Lewis will always be a Marylander at heart—a weather-whining lover of crabs, American history, and the sea. She admits to being craft-challenged, particularly lethal with a glue gun, and a devotee of sappy movies. Her ninth published novel, her first romance novella, Sweet Water, was inspired by a visit to Oregon’s magnificent coastline, and Mother Eugenie, upon whom the character Mother Thomasine is based.
She is currently completing a political suspense novel planned for a summer 2017 release, and is working on another historical fiction novel for 2018 release. She loves to hear from readers:
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@laurielclewis
LaurieLCLewis
www.laurielclewis.com
Also by Laurie Lewis
Laurie’s women’s fiction novels include:
The Dragons of Alsace Farm (2016)
Awakening Avery (2010)
Unspoken (2004).
Under the pen name L.C. Lewis, she has written the award-winning historical fiction series, FREE MEN and DREAMERS, set against the backdrop of the War of 1812:
Dark Sky at Dawn (2007)
Twilight’s Last Gleaming (2008)
Dawn’s Early Light (2009)
Oh, Say Can You See? (2010)
In God is Our Trust, (2011)
Excerpt from The Shell Game
By Laurie Lewis
June 4, 2014
Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Washington State
The Spokane station crackled through the ancient AM/FM radio with an erratic scratch that mimicked the old HAM set that once belonged to Julia Brown’s military father. She allowed the soothing curtain of white noise to seduce her thoughts away from the duties and dangers at hand. Her carefully constructed world had become as fragile as a bubble, and she didn’t know how long she could hold it together. Time was no longer measured in years or months or weeks. She knew it was measured in seconds, and in decisions that affected lifetimes.
A bubble . . . It was an appropriate analogy, drawn from the time she had posed as an American teacher in Laos . . . or was it Banjar, or Riyadh? She was finding it increasingly impossible to keep the details straight in her mind anymore, another sign that things were unraveling. There were no records, no letters, no anything permanent to help with her recall, and recall was now a problem.
The teacher-ruse had been easy to pass off. She had actually enjoyed this chapter in her life, and her favorite single day was the bubble lesson. She had played with the children for hours, becoming a wet, sloppy mess up to her elbows. They discussed the properties of light that transformed the delicate spheres into floating rainbows, and the intriguing mathematics of how bubbles join together at precisely one hundred twenty-degree angles—always. She found that constancy beautiful. More fundamental, she explained how the forces of pressure and surface tension caused bubbles to form. Pressure. Tension. Force. Yes, her word was very much like a bubble.
She closed her eyes and surrendered to the soothing buzz of white noise for a moment longer before reaching her arm across the crowded lab table to turn the volume down. Racks of test tubes, boxes of chemicals, vials of soil, plant, and water samples, filled nearly every inch. She returned her attention to remembering the address of the Park Service office. A troubling email had distracted her so badly that the familiar address had been bulldozed from her mind. It necessitated a quick Google search when a random ad for a class reunion site popped up on her screen, curiously grabbing her normally focused attention once again.
It dawned on her that her old high school classmates would soon gather for their thirtieth class reunion. No invitation with an attached bragging form recounting the past thirty years of her life would show up in her box. What could she write, anyway? She couldn’t list her college honors, share photos of smiling family members, or recount the highlights of a satisfying career, though she had a few of each of those. No, her photo and bio would appear on her high school and collegiate classes’ “In Memoriam” pages as they had every year since 1993, the year she officially died.
For a moment the old melancholy returned as it always did when she recounted all she had sacrificed to become invisible. In truth, there had been few friends to discard, and even fewer family members, but abandoning every thread of her past as Diana Howard left her lonelier every year, and adopting fabricated memories in their place had not filled that void. Julia Brown was a creation—a life as scripted as any Hollywood drama—only this script was the life left her after that impulsive, October 1993 night, and she worried it too was coming apart.
The teacher-ruse withstood fifteen years of emigration scrutiny from five different nations. She finally felt confident she could return to the U.S. again as Julia five years ago. She had chosen an obscure profession—park ranger—in an equally obscure location, allowing very few people into her small, tightly guarded world. A rigid security perimeter of alerts and protocols was established to insulate her, but someone, somewhere, was looking for her, and possibly had already found her.
She willed herself to calm down, returning her attentions to her lab work. The regular analysis of soil and water samples collected from the area surrounding the volcanic Mount St. Helens site was repetitive, mundane work, but the data was important in studying the restoration of the land. She was finally leaving something better than she found it.
The cabin was rustic and Spartan, with basic accommodations for two, and a rudimentary laboratory. It was one of several mountain top ecological stations situated throughout the 1.3 million forested acres of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. Solar panels provided enough power to charge computers, run test equipment, and bring small satellite antennae online. Julia and Tallie generally enjoyed the quiet solitude their nomadic life offered, but circumstances were changing, and every nerve in Julia’s body was on alert.
On the hour, another news report began, detailing the other person, the catalyst in her nightmare. She knew that characterization wasn’t fair. She caused this, and the third party didn’t even know the power they wielded over her. Were they heroes or demons? It all depended on one’s point of view. Only three remained who could confirm what actually happened that hellish day. A few more knew the second conspiracy that followed. The only question that now remained was whether the attention being paid to the rising star in the group would harrow up the buried past, or cause one of the co-conspirators to crack.
She had to protect her daughter Tallie. At least give her a chance.
She hadn’t been much of a mother, dragging the poor, odd thing between remote countries to a place of further isolation, giving her no chance to acclimate socially. Julia had made sure that in Tallie’s twenty-two years she had only connected with a handful of people, and even now, she barely saw another face other than their supervisor, and hikers seen from a distance. There was the occasional lost soul they would be sent off to find, and quarterly trips into town to pick up supplies. The girl was now more comfortable with a coyote than with humans.
Julia knew that too was her fault. Everything was her fault. All of it. Her guilt ate at her for each decision that brought her here, but her deepest guilt was in failing the child she had once been so ravenous to have.
At first, she tried her best to compensate—to be mother and father, breadwinner and nurturer, teacher and guide. It didn’t come t
o her as naturally as she had hoped. Things became more difficult for Julia as Tallie grew older and the differences in their appearance caused questions and scrutiny. Julia almost hated Tallie for the daily reminder of her father. During the long winters, days—multiple days—could pass without an exchange of words between the two women. Each of them would hide behind their respective electronic screens with Tallie studying one scientific topic after another, and other busywork one or the other of the women selected, while Julia stole glances at the blossoming beauty, castigating herself for all she had done to her. For all she would yet inflict upon her.
Julia took some comfort in the fact that Tallie was smart—brilliant really—though on subjects most people wouldn’t value. She could only hope this peculiar girl would be able to survive when she was gone. She at least owed her that much.
The Shell Game
by Laurie Lewis
Coming: ** 2017
Excerpt from Hearts On Fire
By Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole
Carter was still as handsome as always, with his wavy, dark blond hair, even features, and angular jaw covered in a short layer of sexy stubble. But there were faint creases around his eyes, and he seemed harder around the edges—the experiences of life crowding out the softness of youth. The Carter she remembered had been uncomfortable with his excessive wealth and never quite sure of himself. But looking at him now, with his confident demeanor, trendy clothes, and flashy sports car, she got the impression he’d settled into his status, finally becoming the man his mother had always wanted him to be. Resentment pricked up the back of her neck.
“Hardly the way I would expect you to greet an old friend,” Carter said.
“Is that what we are?”
He arched an eyebrow, faint amusement lighting his eyes. “You tell me.”
Her heart lurched as she moistened her lips, frantically searching for a way to answer him.
As always, Trevor came to her aid, stepping up and extending his hand. “I’m Trevor Spencer, Peyton’s business partner.”
Carter’s eyes flashed with something indistinguishable. “I’m Carter, her ex-fiancé.”
Guilt pummeled over Peyton when she heard Trevor’s slight intake of breath. She’d never told him about Carter; only that she’d been involved in a relationship before coming to Texas.
Trevor clasped Carter’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I watch your show.”
Peyton was surprised. It had never entered her mind that Carter would watch her show. Suddenly, she felt exposed. An awkward moment passed before Trevor spoke.
“If y’all will excuse me, I need to finish up in the crawlspace.” He squeezed Peyton’s arm, giving her a look that said, Let me know if you need me, and I’ll come running. He offered Carter a curt nod before going down the steps.
Carter cocked his head. “Seems like a nice enough guy.”
“Yeah.” She ran a hand through her hair. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Trevor with Carter.
Carter motioned. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
She folded her arms over her chest, studying him. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He chuckled lightly, leaning into her personal space. Her pulse bumped up a notch when he touched her hair.
She jerked back, her eyes going wide. “What’re you doing?”
He held up his fingers. “You had something in your hair.”
“Oh … thanks,” she mumbled. One whiff of his spicy cologne was all it took to unleash a flood of memories. How many times had they stood in this very spot? Holding each other, promising their undying love—believing the world wasn’t big enough to hold their dreams. She’d been so intoxicated with Carter that he’d consumed her every thought.
She realized with a jolt that Carter was studying her. Was he experiencing those same memories? She cleared the cobwebs from her head. There was no way she was falling back into Carter’s trap. She’d fought too hard to stand on her own. She couldn’t … wouldn’t revert back to that fragile girl she’d been.
“Do you mind if we go inside? There are a few things we need to discuss.”
She planted her feet on the porch. “Really? What things?”
A crease appeared between his brows. “Same old Peyton, always questioning everything.”
She bristled. “Same old Carter, always being obscure. Maybe you should just tell me whatever you have to say.”
He shifted his feet. “Well, for starters, I’m sorry about your mother.”
The omission of her stepfather spoke volumes, a reminder of how well he knew her. “Thanks.”
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend the funeral.”
“No big deal. I didn’t realize you weren’t there.”
He looked surprised and a little hurt.
Her first impulse was to say something to ease his discomfort. Old habits die hard. She forced a smile. “It was nice of you to stop by to offer your condolences.” Being in such close proximity to Carter was draining. She needed space to regain her composure. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah … about that … you know, I could really use a drink of water. I just drove back from San Francisco, and I’m parched.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?” She cut her eyes toward his house. “It’s not like you have far to go.” She put a hand on her hip, studying him. “Carter, why are you really here?”
He held up a finger. “One glass of water, and I’ll tell you.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You wouldn’t deny a thirsty man that, would you?”
She sighed. “Fine. Come on.”
As he followed her to the kitchen, Peyton couldn’t help but wonder what Carter must think of the shabby surroundings. As a teenager, she’d been ashamed of the condition of her home, especially since Carter came from such wealth. The insecurities from her childhood came rushing back, and for a split second, she felt like a kid again.
No. You are a successful designer with your own TV show. You have nothing to prove to anyone, especially not Carter Webster.
She opened the fridge, reached for a water pitcher, and poured him a glass.
He drained it, then placed it on the counter. “Thanks.”
She nodded, waiting for him to speak.
He took a deep breath, a troubled expression coming over him. “As I said earlier, I came to offer my condolences … and to look over my property.” He looked around the kitchen.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes met hers. “This place.”
Her blood ran cold. “You bought Andrea’s half.”
“Yep.”
She had the hysterical urge to laugh … or cry. This can’t be happening. Please let it be a nightmare. Let me wake up. Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “What do you want?”
Carter poured himself another glass of water and took a long drink. Peyton watched his Adam’s apple go up and down as he swallowed.
“I can buy you out.”
He lowered the glass. “Or I could buy you out. I’ll pay top dollar. And that’s saying a lot for this broken-down place.”
Of all the arrogant things to say! Carter had turned into his mother, assuming money could buy anything. But it couldn’t buy her. “So you can tear down the house that’s been in my family for three generations?” She squared her jaw. “I don’t think so.”
“Be reasonable, Peyton. Your life’s not here anymore. You have your fancy show and your boyfriend. You don’t belong here.”
The cutting words hit their mark as fury spiked through her, making her feel like her head would explode. “How dare you tell me where I do and don’t belong. This place is my home. And I’ll not let you nor anyone else dictate what’s gonna happen to it!”
A hard amusement glittered in his eyes. “But you’re forgetting. Half of it belongs to me. I can and I will determine what happens to this place.” He looked around, disgust plain on his face. “
It’s falling apart.”
“Get out!”
He rocked back, his eyes going hard. “No.”
“What?”
He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have just as much right to be here as you. And I’m not leaving until I get darn good and ready.”
All reason flew out the window as Peyton turned on the faucet and reached for the sprayer. Shock registered on Carter’s features the instant before she sprayed him in the face. “I said get out. Get off my property!”
He held up his hands and ducked his head. “Stop. Peyton.”
A sense of power rushed over her as she laughed maniacally. “Not so tough now, are ya?”
Carter bolted forward and attempted to wrench the sprayer out of her hands, but she held on tight. He leaned, and the weight of his body sent her toppling backwards. She slipped and went down to the floor, pulling him down on top of her. When she began swatting at him, he pinned her arms to the floor.
“Stop it, Peyton. You’re acting crazy.”
Rage boiled over her as she tried to wiggle out from underneath him. “Get off me!”
“It doesn’t have to be this way. We can handle this like rational adults.”
“You come traipsing in here with your snub-the-world attitude, thinking you can tell me what to do with my house. But you can’t.” Her voice rose to a frenzied height. “Do you hear me? I said you can’t!”
“Is there a problem here?”
Peyton looked up to see Trevor standing over them, his fists clenched like he was ready to pounce.
Carter gave Peyton a withering look. “No, there’s no problem, I was just leaving.” He released Peyton’s arms and got to his feet, wiping the water from his face. His eyes cut into Peyton’s as his lips became a tight line. “This is not over. We can either come to an agreement or you should find a good attorney. Your decision. I’m done trying to reason with you.”