“Or…ah…a job,” she amended.
The intensity of his dark glare made her heart skip a couple beats before thudding hard and heavy in her chest. She took an involuntary step back, and a grim smile curved his lips as he closed the distance between them. This time she held her ground.
“An exchange of favors?”
She nodded, her throat tight. “You help me with my grandma, I help you with your farm.”
“A half-million dollars to pretend to be your fiancé?”
With him standing a mere twelve inches away, all she could manage was another nod.
“Who exactly would we be pretending for?”
“Besides Grandma?”
“Yeah, besides Grandma.”
She thought of the pitying looks if the truth got out. “Um, everyone…I guess.”
“For how long?”
She winced, but forced the words out. “As long as it takes to plan the wedding.”
His eyes widened a tiny bit. He drew in a controlled breath and let it out again. “And will I be expected to actually participate in this wedding?”
The quiet of his voice was contradicted by the agitation in his eyes. The calm before the storm—only she didn’t understand why he was so upset when she was offering him plenty of money to help her.
She shook her head no this time. “We’ll stretch the planning out. As long as it takes before…”
Before Grandma forgets us all.
She didn’t have to say the words, she saw his understanding in the tightening of his jaw.
In the silence that fell, she was aware of every breath he took as he stood a mere foot away. Every beat of her own heart reverberated through her body. The fresh shower scent of him that seemed magnified by the heat of his anger inundated her senses, scrambling her thoughts.
He shifted closer still, and when his hands rose to grasp her arms, she flinched. He noticed, though it didn’t stop him. Neither did she. His work-roughened grip was definitely setting off alarm bells, but they had nothing to do with fear.
“We don’t even like each other,” he said, his voice low as his gaze bored into hers.
She lifted one shoulder, dropping her focus to the neckline of his faded T-shirt. “Well…I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“I would. And engaged people are usually in love.”
The husky whisper ramped up the butterflies already panicking in her stomach. His fingers flexed against her skin before he skimmed one hand down her arm, tracing calloused fingers along the inside of her wrist. Her breath hitched at the trail of heated sensation burning along her skin.
“They’re expected to hold hands,” he continued. But instead of threading his fingers with hers, he slid his arm around her waist to tug her body tight up against his. “Get close.” His head dipped until his breath feathered over her lips. “Kiss.”
Oh, God, yes please.
AVAILABLE NOW!
Excerpt from
THAT MAGIC TOUCH
Lake Shelbyville Series, Book 1
by Donna Marie Rogers
**2015 WINNER Write Touch Readers’ Award**
Once their secrets are revealed, can love heal all?
Living in a small town, Mia Grey has a hard enough time keeping her own unique healing powers secret, never mind those of her thirteen-year-old sister, whose powerful telekinetic abilities grow stronger by the day. Mia’s discovered it’s not so easy keeping a moody teenage witch on the right path while working full-time in her convenience store/bait shop. And her pre-occupation with their gorgeous new neighbor certainly isn’t helping matters.
Jack Sutton spent seven years behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit. Longing for a family connection, he heads to Illinois in search of an aunt he’s never met. He rents an auto garage in the picturesque town of Shelbyville and just starts to settle in when late one night he’s stabbed in an apparent robbery. He wakes the following morning with a throbbing head and an aching gut. The good news is he’s alive. The bad news is he seems to have woken up in an episode of the Twilight Zone—with his beautiful neighbor in the starring role.
~ ~ ~
Excerpt
Chapter 1
The crunch of tires on gravel had Jack Sutton glancing up from underneath the hood of the car he’d just topped off with antifreeze. He shielded his eyes against the glare of the mid-July afternoon sun as an unfamiliar black Ford pickup rolled to a stop at the top of the driveway, the front driver’s side tire blown. Wiping his hands on a rag, he stepped out of the garage and watched with mild interest as a guy climbed from the truck, an adorable blonde pixie in his arms who couldn’t have been no more than four or five years old.
He studied Jack with a pensive frown as he strode up, but an easy smile chased it away by the time he stuck out his hand. “Hey, how are you? My name’s Kent, and this is my daughter, Zoe.”
“Jack.” He shook the guy’s hand and winked at Zoe.
The doe-eyed youngster cast him a shy smile before burying her face into the crook of her father’s neck.
He returned his attention to Kent and nodded toward the truck. “Blew a tire, hey?”
“Just down the road by the marina. I’m hoping the rumors are true about the garage being open for business again.”
“Open a couple weeks now,” he confirmed.
The little girl wriggled in her father’s arm until he set her on her feet. A loud “woof” told Jack exactly what had captured her interest. The owners of the bait shop/convenience store next door had a monstrous black and tan English Mastiff named Mudcat, who loved kids almost as much as he loved chasing birds.
“Daddy, can I buy a treat?” she asked, her big brown eyes lit up with hope.
Kent hesitated. “I don’t know. Last time you gave that poor dog an entire bag of potato chips, and he got sick as a…dog.” He grinned. “They’ll probably lock the doors when they see you coming.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Come on, I won’t give him nothin’. I promise.”
Her father gave in with a sigh and a reluctant nod. “All right. But only one treat or you’ll spoil your supper.” He pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her.
Zoe clutched it in her little fist and took off like a shot.
Jack smiled as he watched her cross the yard at warp speed, skidding to a stop to let Mudcat sniff her hand before skipping up the stairs and into the store.
After a bemused shake of his head, Kent turned to him and asked, “You must have met the sisters by now. What do you think? They seem nice enough to me, though my wife’s convinced they’re evil.”
“I’ve been in the store a few times.” He shrugged noncommittally. “Don’t really know them that well.” Jack cast a quick, inadvertent glance next door. Frankly, the sisters had always seemed rather normal to him. But then, he wasn’t exactly a good judge of what constituted ‘normal.’ “Evil, huh?” A grin tugged at his mouth.
Kent let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I know. Forget I said anything.” He nodded toward his truck. “I was hoping you could check the front brakes for me as well. I noticed they were sticking some before the tire blew.”
“Not a problem. You wanna back up so I can pull the Malibu out?”
“You bet. And thanks, I appreciate it.”
Zoe returned just as Kent tossed him the keys to his truck.
“Milk Duds?” her father asked with a raised brow.
“Mia said they’re her favorite.” She held the box up and gave it a shake. “Want one?”
“No thanks. Those things get stuck in my teeth. But maybe Jack would?”
She cast him a shy smile and shook some out into her hand. When she held up her offering, he couldn’t resist. He plucked one from her palm and returned her smile. “Thank you.”
His enjoyment was short lived as he spied a police cruiser driving by at a snail’s pace, the officer staring directly at him.
“Hey, George,” Kent called out with a wave.
The officer nodded, gave Jack one last considering look, then drove off.
Great. Looked like Shelbyville’s finest finally heard from his parole officer.
* * *
It was nearly seven-thirty by the time Jack closed shop for the night. And man, was he ready for it. He’d had a busy day, though most of his jobs had been oil changes, so he hadn’t raked in much more than usual. He didn’t mind the hard work, but it would be nice to have a bigger job come in once in a while, like replacing a carburetor or tranny.
With a yawn, he flipped off the lights, leaving only the overhead on above the back door. The garage was in need of a good sweeping, but exhaustion had settled into his bones, so he decided to leave it for morning. Hell, it’d be a miracle if he had enough energy to take a quick shower before crawling into be—
An arm wrapped around his neck and he was yanked back as something sharp plunged into his gut. Searing pain engulfed him, and a hard shove sent him crashing to the cold, concrete floor.
“You should’ve slit his throat,” a croaky, male voice complained.
“He’ll be dead in an hour,” a second assured the first. “Come on. Help me get the cash register open.”
Jesus, he was going to puke. Concentrate, Sutton, he thought, swallowing hard, choking down bile. He sucked in a breath, but the coppery smell of blood mingled with the noxious odor of gasoline made it worse. And holy hell…the burning in his gut was excruciating, as if he’d swallowed the fucking sun.
Jack lay still as death, praying the bastards would hurry the hell up. If he could crawl to the phone and dial 9-1-1, he might have a chance.
Holding down a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut and listened as his attackers struggled to get the cash register open. He would have laughed at their incompetence if every second didn’t mean the difference between his own life and death.
His head spun and his world darkened. He teetered on the brink of unconsciousness; the voices of his attackers becoming more and more distant. Jack fought with everything he had to remain conscious, but was quickly losing the battle.
The ring of the cash register opening reached his ears, and he nearly groaned his relief. He heard the distinct crinkle of paper as they cleaned the sucker out.
“Should we grab some new tires?” the deeper voice asked.
“Nah, this is good enough. The cops’ll see the register open and figure the place got robbed.”
Figure the place got robbed? If they weren’t there to rob him, then what the fuck just happened?
Jack sucked in a shaky breath as he listened to their retreating footsteps, a glimmer of hope flaring to life.
When the back door slammed shut, he struggled to his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes tight as he fought the urge to vomit. Head hung low, he half-crawled, half-dragged himself to the desk, never imagining twenty feet could seem so damn far. He reached up and grasped the metal edge, somehow managing to pull himself to his knees. But as a wave of dizziness hit him, he had to lay his head down on the cool metal of the desk.
Come on, Sutton, focus, he silently commanded, summoning every bit of strength he could. No way in hell he survived seven years in prison only to go out like this.
He took a shallow, ragged breath, lifted his head, and reached out for the old, black-corded phone mounted on the wall. His fingers smacked the receiver hard enough for it to pop off the cradle and drop down to the desk. He fumbled for it, hooking the pigtail cord with his forefinger.
A chill wracked him; he laid his head down again as his strength waned. His knees buckled, and Jack crashed to the floor.
Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard an angel’s voice calling to him.
~~~~
“That Magic Touch was pure magic for me…I love the mystery that underscores the love story. I thought I had everything figured out about half way through… I was wrong.”
~ 5 Stars, Amazon Reviewer
BUY NOW to read THAT MAGIC TOUCH
~~~~
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Donna Marie Rogers inherited her love of romance from her mother. Romance novels, soap operas, Little House on the Prairie—her mother loved them all. And though it wasn’t until years later Donna would come to understand her mother’s fascination with Charles Ingalls, Donna’s love of the romance genre is every bit as all-consuming.
A Chicago native, Donna now lives in beautiful Northeast Wisconsin with her husband and children. She’s an avid gardener and home-canner, as well as an admitted Halloween fanatic. Her passion to read is only exceeded by her passion to write, so when she’s not doing the wife and mother thing, you can usually find her sitting at the computer, creating exciting, memorable characters, fresh new worlds, and always happily-ever-afters.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Say You Love Me
(Welcome To Redemption, Book 9)
Copyright © 2015 by Donna Marie Rogers
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by Stacy D. Holmes
Cover art by The Killion Group, Inc.
Formatted by Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
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
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Donna Marie Rogers’ Other Titles
Excerpt from SAY YOU’LL MARRY ME
Excerpt from THAT MAGIC TOUCH
About the Author
Copyright
Say You Love Me (Welcome To Redemption #9) Page 19