Becoming Miss Becky

by Shannon Stacey

  “No, you said you guessed you’d be willing to marry me because you could do with a wife and I was pretty enough.”

  “I still could. And you still are.”

  She put her hands on her hips, refusing to let him off the hook.

  He blew out a deep breath and after some consideration lowered himself to one knee. “Rebecca Hamilton, will you be my wife?”

  When she threw herself into his arms he lost his balance and they tumbled to the ground, but she didn’t care. “Yes, Adam Caldwell, I would love to be your wife.”

  Adam wrapped his arms around her, holding her on top of him, and kissed her senseless. Then he kissed her some more.

  “You hussy!” Lucy Barnes shrieked, and Becky lifted her head to find the woman standing over them, shaking her finger. She must have left her Bible in the Chicken Coop. “Just because I wasn’t willing to let some lyin’ Yankee run off with you doesn’t mean I’ll stand for you flaunting your wicked ways in front of God and everybody.”

  “She’s gonna be my wife, just as soon as we can make it legal,” Adam told her, and a few cheers and catcalls came from the onlookers.

  Lucy planted her fists on her hips and glared down at them. “Did you go and get this woman in a family way?”

  “Not yet, but I aim to get started right off, so you might want to close your eyes.”

  She huffed and puffed and “well, I never’d” for a minute, then she walked away, but not before calling over her shoulder, “You used to be a decent man, Adam Caldwell. I should have known that tart would be your downfall.”

  “I knew it all along,” Adam said in a low voice, and Becky smiled down at him.

  “I guess that fortune teller was right.”

  “Best nickel ever spent,” he said, and then he kissed her again.

  About the Author

  Shannon Stacey married her Prince Charming in 1993 and is the proud mother of a future Nobel Prize for Science-winning bookworm and an adrenaline junkie with a flair for drama. She lives in New England, where her two favorite activities are trying to stay warm and writing stories of happily ever after.

  You can contact Shannon or sign up for her newsletter through her website: www.shannonstacey.com

  Look for these titles from Shannon Stacey

  Now Available:

  Forever Again

  Talons: Kiss Me Deadly

  In the Spirit

  On the Edge

  Taming Eliza Jane

  The Devlin Group: Adrenaline

  Alex Rossi leads a double life, and it may cost Grace Nolan her son.

  72 Hours

  © 2006 Shannon Stacey

  The Devlin Group: A privately-owned rogue agency unhindered by red tape and jurisdiction.

  Grace Nolan walked away from the Devlin Group carrying Alex Rossi's child in her womb and his bullet in her shoulder. But a ghost from the past has kidnapped her son, Danny. The ransom—Alex Rossi. To get her son back, Grace will have to step back into the life she'd left behind and reveal her secret to Alex.

  With vengeance for his mother's murder nearly at hand and a deadly substance on the loose, the last thing Alex Rossi needs is to find himself at the business end of Grace's gun. Now the clock is ticking as they race to save a child and stop a madman bent on destruction.

  But Alex has a secret of his own, and it may be the ultimate betrayal.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for 72 Hours:

  Something’s burning. The thought hit Grace Nolan a mere second before the alarm shrieked.

  “Hold on!” She ripped off her headset, then pounded down the stairs. Dammit, this couldn’t happen again. She’d worked so hard to make sure it wouldn’t.

  The room was quickly filling with smoke, and Grace grabbed a potholder. She yanked open the oven door and took out the smoking cookie sheet. With a curse, she dropped it into the sink and turned on the tap.

  The pan popped and warped as the chocolate chip briquettes slid into a black, soggy mess in the sink.

  “Crap!” she yelled at the smoke detector, flapping a towel under it to clear the smoke.

  She could disable any security system known to man, and sell the CIA its damn own secrets, for chrissake. Why the hell couldn’t she bake a decent batch of cookies? A boy should come home from a long day in second grade to something warm and homemade with love.

  When the alarm had chirped its last chirp, Grace rummaged through the cabinet for the Chewy Chips Ahoy. After tossing a few on a plate, she shoved the package back behind the bran flakes and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to wrap things up with Carmen before she poured Danny’s milk.

  “Forget to set the timer again?” Carmen Olivera asked after Grace retrieved the headset.

  She nodded, then shrugged at the Latin beauty in the high-definition video screen. “I think I forgot the vanilla, anyway. Do they taste the same without the vanilla?

  “Do I look like Betty Crocker? You need to get out more, chica.”

  If only she could. “Who’d have thought motherhood’s harder than infiltrating Russian military installations?”

  “Honey, I know it is. Why do you think I run so fast from men?”

  “Because they usually have badges from some alphabet agency or another, and want to see you in an orange jumpsuit?”

  “That too. You should come back to us, babe. Can you believe Gallagher and I are staying at the freaking Plaza Royale?”

  “I’ve been to the Plaza Royale. And I quit the agency eight years ago, Carm. When are you going to believe me when I tell you I’m not coming back?”

  “Never. You know the Devlin Group—we never give up.”

  “Yeah, like Mounties, only a little more juvenile, and a lot more delinquent. And speaking of delinquents, how’s Gallagher doing lately?”

  Carmen rolled her eyes. “Not too happy about being the hired muscle, but Dev didn’t have anybody else available. Pretty good money just to hang around and make sure nobody kills me, if you ask me.”

  “Damn straight,” Grace agreed. Sean Devlin had founded a very lucrative business brokering assignments for the loose network of international freelancers specializing in just about anything. His primary focus was assisting government agencies whose hands were tied by red tape, but he certainly didn’t do it for free.

  “Like hanging out pool side’s such a hardship for him,” Carmen was saying. “You’d think he’s on vacation for all the attention he’s paying me.”

  “Based on some of his previous jobs, I’d say this is pretty close to vacation for him.”

  “Knowing my luck he’ll try to cut the power to the camera bank and set off the fire alarm instead.”

  “What’s the job?” Grace asked, knowing Carmen would tell her if she could, shrug it off if she couldn’t.

  “Some pencil pusher from a biochem company got it into his head to sell a sample of a new biotoxin to the highest bidder.”

  “Wow! I hope you brought good gloves.”

  Carmen pulled her sable mass of hair into a sleek ponytail. “A very unsexy, but surprisingly flexible hazmat suit, actually. It makes blending in a bit of a challenge, though, so the whole thing’s gotta go down like clockwork.”

  “And the seller?”

  “We’ll leave him for the big, bad buyers to take care of. The client doesn’t want the publicity of prosecuting a guy for managing to steal a very scary concoction out from under their noses.”

  “People really have to start taking better care of their scary concoctions.”

  “Yeah. Nice to know there are people making up poisons so they can have an antidote to it by the time somebody else makes it up.”

  “It’s a scary world out there,” Grace agreed. Just one more reason she had traded in her cat suit for an apron.

  “I wish you were still in the field with me, Grace. I’d feel a lot better if you had my back.”

  Not a chance. When the Devlin Group had poached her away from the FBI, she’d jumped at the chance to leave her small-tow
n, white bread upbringing behind. Miss Most-Likely-to-Organize-Carpools was going to be an international super agent.

  It didn’t take long for the flash to fizzle. Fast cars, hard people, and too much adrenaline. Each mission left her more jaded and more tired. She could barely recognize the person in the mirror at the end of each day.

  Not until the doctor treating her for a gunshot wound told her she was pregnant did she have the strength to walk away.

  Being a civilian contractor for legit government agencies didn’t pay as well, but it let her be home with Danny. Her mission now was to be both mother and father to one hell of a great kid—the only mission that ever made her curl in her bed and cry in fear of failure.

  “You know I can’t raise Danny like that.”

  And she did know. Carmen Olivera was the only person connected to the Devlin Group, besides Sean himself, who knew about Danny. Her need to have an ear to bend had overcome her initial decision to never tell a soul. Nobody knew who his father was, though. She’d told them it was her doctor, and Carmen and Devlin—the only two people she’d kept in contact with—had no reason not to believe her.

  “Maybe when Danny’s all grown up, you can come out and play, huh?”

  Grace laughed again and shook her head. “Sure. I’ll just stock up on the Geritol.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, then she severed the digital connection to her former life and returned to Mommyworld.

  She was pouring milk into a plastic cup when the screen door slammed.

  “How was your—” She turned.

  Her throat closed. The clock ticked.

  Cold milk splashed over her bare toes.

  The man smiled.

  “Your son won’t be coming home, Ms. Nolan…for now.” He held up an 8x10 photo.

  Danny, with a large, tanned hand pressing against the backpack he still wore, ushering him onto a small plane. No markings were visible on the aircraft. No other faces in the picture. Only Danny’s. The camera captured him looking over his shoulder, his blue eyes under his Red Sox cap wide and liquid.

  “You bastard.”

  Sometimes a journey of the heart is the most dangerous journey of all.

  A Desperate Journey

  © 2008 Debra Parmley

  Sally Wheeler learned the hard way that men aren’t always what they seem. Now she will stop at nothing to track down the bigamist husband who stole her child and abandoned her on their failing Kansas farm. Even if it means traveling with a handsome maverick who could change her mind about men.

  Free after spending seven years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Rob Truman aims to balance the scales of justice on the man who sent him there—Luke Wheeler. His quest doesn’t include falling for the one woman who will lead him to his quarry, but Sally’s courage in the face of her fear touches his soul.

  Through dangerous days and nights on the trail, neither Sally nor Rob can ignore their growing feelings for each other. Yet both are haunted by the poor judgment that, in the past, led them down the wrong road. Love—and trust—are luxuries neither of them can afford.

  But as the bullets start flying, love may be all that saves them—and Sally’s son.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for A Desperate Journey:

  “Well, damn my eyes if it ain’t an angel come to save me,” the man roared as he stood with a lurch.

  Sally jumped and took a step back.

  “Ain’t you the purtiest thing,” he said with a leer.

  She smiled nervously, not wanting to anger him.

  Rob chose that moment to enter the store. “Morning. It’s about time you were awake. Name’s Rob.”

  “Fletcher, but you can call me Fletch.”

  “We need to buy passage across the river.”

  The ferryman’s gaze drifted back toward Sally. “Cain’t take you across.” He shook his head. “Not for another two weeks.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Water’s running too high.” Fletch stepped behind Sally. “That bacon sure does smell good.” He peered over her shoulder. “You smell mighty good too.”

  “That’s it.” Rob’s voice hardened.

  Sally heard the cock of a gun and turned.

  Rob stood with his gun pressed to Fletcher’s head.

  “I think you’ll be taking us across. You’ll be taking us across today.” He jerked his head. “Sally, get your things.”

  “Ye heard the man,” Moss argued. “That water is too fast, too high.”

  “We’re going now.” His tone brooked no argument.

  “Ain’t we goin’ ter eat first?” Moss persisted.

  “Lost my appetite.” Rob’s jaw clenched and he nudged Fletch with his gun. “Now move.”

  Sally watched Rob force the ferryman out the door and her hands shook as she gathered their things. “Carolyn, you stay away from those men and do as I tell you.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Even her bubbly daughter was subdued by the force Rob had brought into the store. And just when she’d begun to relax around him.

  But he was no better than Luke. He was just another man who would use force to get what he wanted. And men like that were dangerous.

  Sally reached for Carolyn’s hand while they silently watched the men load the ferry. Rob stood atop the bank with his hand on his gun as Moss began to coax the mules up the dock and onto the ferry.

  “You better pay me double like you said,” Fletcher shouted to Rob.

  The coolness and steel in Rob’s reply made Sally shiver. “You’ll get your money when we’re on the other side.”

  “Stupid cowboys,” Fletch muttered with a frown. “Water’s too high.”

  Rob’s expression did not change, yet Sally knew he’d heard the man.

  “Get them mules on up in front, just them two,” Fletcher directed Moss, as he squinted against the sun. “Get ’em up on that hitching post.”

  Moss hitched the first two with a grumble.

  “Now them other two in the middle.” Fletcher frowned. “And keep them calm. I don’t want no animals giving me trouble.”

  “Don’t ye worry none about my mules.” Moss hitched the other two. “I know my business good as you know yourn.”

  Rob led his horse up the ramp next. As Moss took the reigns from him he said, “I hope like hell you know what you’re doing.”

  Rob merely grunted.

  Finally Fletcher called to Sally, “Come on, little lady, you get on over here by me.” He held out his hand to her.

  Though Rob’s eyes narrowed, he said nothing, just continued to stand with his hand on his gun as he watched them.

  Sally lifted Carolyn up to Moss and reached for Fletcher’s hand. Though he was behaving like a gentleman now, his bloodshot eyes took her in. “That’s it,” he said as he helped her onto the ferry, his sour-whiskey breath making her wish she could hold her nose. His hand was raspy, rough and strong.

  She waited till he turned away to push off from the bank to wipe her hand on her dress.

  The ferryman grabbed a pole and gave a shove off the bank.

  Moss squinted at him when he turned back around. “I ’spose ye expect me to hep ye.”

  “One of you has to. I let my men off for two weeks till this river is ready to cross, and they’ll be at the nearest saloon till I send for them.”

  They both glanced at Rob who stood by his horse, his right hand never far from his gun. He’d just displayed how fast he was with it.

  “It’s gonna be hell to get this ferry back across the river by myself.” Fletcher grabbed the rope and began walking hand over hand down the length of the ferry.

  Though the ride was smooth at first, Sally eyed the rushing waters into the middle of the river and wondered what would happen when they reached it. From the glances of the men, they were wondering the same thing. This did not reassure her.

  Carolyn stood with Sally in the middle where it was most stable. She bounced up and down with excitement.

  S
ally gripped Carolyn’s shoulders. “Stand still.”

  “Ma’am, you got to control your child,” Fletcher said as he continued working the ropes.

  Sally looked down at the cold, dark, swiftly flowing water, remembering with a shiver of panic that neither she nor Carolyn could swim.

  “Carolyn, sit down.”

  Her daughter obeyed and Sally looked for something to hold onto. The ferry didn’t feel so sturdy as it began to creak and shift with the water becoming steadily rougher. Sally’s knees shook as her thoughts ran with the dark and dangerous river. The creaking grew louder as the mules shuffled and shifted their hooves.

  The whites of their eyes rolled in fear when the boards of the ferry began to moan and groan. They didn’t like this raft any more than she did. She briefly touched the brooch at her neck and reached out to balance herself against a mule.

  “I told you this river was too fast,” Fletch growled at Rob as the creaking and groaning grew louder and the river shook the ferry.

  They were three quarters of the way across and the ropes were straining as Fletcher and Moss strained to pull them across.

  Crack!

  The rear guide post holding the guide ropes snapped in two.

  What do you do when love gives you a second chance at life?

  The Prize

  © 2006 Beth Williamson

  Book 2 of the Malloy family series.

  Jack Malloy is haunted.

  Haunted by memories, he tries to escape the dreams that have stolen his sleep for six months by agreeing to help out his sister Nicky. Unfortunately, time at her ranch offers him no escape when he’s confronted by Rebecca Connor’s beautiful gray eyes. For unbeknownst to her, she is a participant in his nightmares every night.

  Rebecca Connor is haunted.

  Haunted by memories she’s trying to escape that have stolen her future. Her attraction to Jack is unsettling for a woman who has sworn off men. But something keeps drawing her closer to him, and she can’t help but wonder what his hands would feel like on her skin…