April Fool Bride

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April Fool Bride Page 10

by Joan Reeves


  Her print novels have been published in a half dozen languages, and her indie published ebooks are available at most ebook sellers with audio book editions available at Audible and iTunes. Several of her books are available in French editions through her publisher in France.

  Joan makes her home in the Lone Star State with her hero, her husband. They have four kids who think they are adults and a ghost dog--all the ingredients for a life full of love and warmed by laughter. She lives the philosophy that is the premise of all of her romance novels: "It's never too late to live happily ever after."

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  Thank you for reading my books! I appreciate each and every one of you. I always enjoy hearing from readers so visit me online, email me, or send me an old-fashioned letter.

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  Excerpt, Second Chance Bride

  An All Brides Are Beautiful Romance

  by

  Joan Reeves

  Despite the warmth of the June evening, Constance Quinn felt chilled. To her dismay, she felt like a nervous teenager right down to the clammy perspiration that defied her anti-perspirant and dampened her blue silk blouse.

  In front of her, a car pulled away from the curb. Deftly, she slipped the Buick Enclave into the vacant spot. Her hand shook as she shifted the gear lever into park and turned the engine off. She took a deep breath, rubbed the chill bumps on her arms, grabbed her small tan shoulder bag, and stepped out of the SUV.

  Laughter and music hit her. She looked at the contemporary house in front of her, noting the sparkling chandeliers visible through the many large windows. making the cedar and stone house look like a jewel rising from the emerald green expanse of lawn. That's when she realized that there was a party in full swing in the house. She felt like an idiot. How could she have missed the clues? Like cars lining both sides of the street not to mention the people ambling around the yard in the shadows of huge live oak trees.

  She'd been oblivious to everything once she'd yielded to the impulse to drive to Malcolm, the small town about a hundred miles west of Houston. Where was her brain? She should have waited until morning and called. But when she'd read the private investigator's report and realized a short distance separated her from her goal, she couldn't resist the impulse. All she wanted was to see him even though she'd told herself that wasn't likely. But just seeing the house where he lived would be worth the drive she'd decided. So she stood at the curb and gazed longingly at the house. Had he been happy here? A pang hit her in the region of her heart. How could she go about seeing him? She couldn't reveal how she'd gained the information.

  "Aren't you going to come into the party?"

  Startled, Constance jerked. Her gaze searched for the man who had spoken. She found him as he stepped from the shadows of the spreading branches of one of the oaks. As he walked toward her, something about him made her grab for the door handle. Her pulse beat unsteadily. For a crazy moment, she contemplated jumping in the Buick and racing away.

  When he stepped close, close enough that she could appreciate his dark good looks, backlit by the light pouring from the windows of the house behind him, she realized it wasn't that he'd accosted her that made her feel as if the air had suddenly grown thin, making it hard to draw breath. Nor was it his height as he loomed over her--or his body that she suddenly noticed. How could she be noticing that he was muscled and strong looking with wide shoulders and narrow hips? She wasn't the kind of woman who noticed those things about a man.

  No, what made her thighs clench was the intensity of his gaze as his brown eyes locked onto her blue ones.

  "I…I beg your pardon?" Her hand went to her throat as if to still the pulse that pounded there.

  "You've been standing here, staring at the house for fifteen minutes. Have you decided yet whether to come in or not?"

  "It hasn't been fifteen minutes." A second later, she realized she should have denied his words. Belatedly, she said, "I don't know what you mean."

  Constance wondered if Pinocchio had blushed as bright a red as she when the wooden boy told his clunkers. Nervously, she tried to recover. "What I mean is that I don't have an invitation. I was just driving by…" Her voice trailed off, and she decided to just keep her mouth shut.

  What was wrong with her? She never got nervous when talking to anyone. Not people she knew or strangers. She'd faced down conference rooms full of hardened executives. Even when she'd begged Maddie, her stepdaughter, to forgive her, she'd done it with more poise than this short exchange with the man before her.

  He came even closer. So close she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. Her mouth went dry. He might possibly be one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. Then he smiled, and her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment.

  "I... I wasn't invited," she whispered. "I was just driving by…the lights…the chandeliers…attracted me."

  "Why don't you come in and get a closer look at them? They're pretty amazing?"

  Abruptly, Constance came to her senses. "No. I couldn't crash a party."

  The man smiled. "It's okay. I know the owner. This is a graduation party for his son. His kid just got his PhD. The guy's so proud of his kid he'll be thrilled to have another guest to celebrate the event." He crooked his arm and proffered it for her to take.

  Constance didn't bother weighing the pros and cons. This would get her inside. Anticipation urged her on. Finally, she'd get to see her son.

  "My daughter Maddie is always telling me I should be more flexible and try new things. Why not party crashing?" It took all her hard-won poise to keep a placid expression and not reveal the tension that filled her. Constance laid her hand on his arm. Her pulse leapt and the smile she'd managed disappeared. His skin warmed her, and there went that irritating clenching feeling low in her belly. She couldn't look away from his dark eyes. If she had a shred of common sense, she'd walk away. But, apparently, she was fresh out of rationality.

  Alejandro was an expert at reading people. This woman with the beautiful blue eyes was anxious. Maybe even scared. Of what? Being caught staring at his house? He covered her hand with his, marveling at the softness of her skin and the way just touching her aroused his curiosity much as his interest had been aroused by the sight of her long legs, slender arms, and blond hair that shone like a halo around her face. He'd approached her just to see what her face looked like up close, and he hadn't been disappointed. Even the dim light couldn't diminish the crystal blue of her eyes that drew him into their depths.

  "I could call you Blue Eyes, but I think I'd like to know your name," he said.

  "Constance," she whispered. "And you. Should I call you Brown Eyes?"

  "I'm Alejandro, and this is my son's party."

  Constance stumbled over her own feet.

  Alejandro caught her close to him to keep her from falling. "Watch your step. Sorry, even though it seems that the night is lit up like day, it's still dark enough to trip over something. Are you all right?"

  Constance stared at him. He was her son's adopted father? Suddenly, she realized he hadn't released her. She was pressed to his chest. A very nice, hard, masculine chest. Her eyes widened. That wasn't all that was hard. Alejandro lowered his head. Startled, she read the intent in his sexy dark eyes. In another moment, she'd pull away from him and race back to her SUV. Back to Houston.

  Then the moment was gone, and her eyelids were closing as if they were so heavy she couldn't keep them open. His mouth touched hers. Her brain managed two thoughts. The first was that a kiss had never made her feel like this before. The second was that she was the biggest idiot in Texas. Maybe in all of North America.

  Then she told her brain to shut up, and she kissed Alejandro back with all the longing in her lonely heart.

  Q
uotation Collection

  April Fool's, Fools in General, and Jokes

  In every romance I write, I give the reader a little bonus at the end in the form of a collection of quotations themed, in some way, to the specific book. With that thought in mind, here is my Collection of Quotations about April Fool's of course.

  Enjoy!

  * * *

  "April 1. This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four." ~ Mark Twain, Pudd'nhead Wilson, 1894

  "Not being fooled on an April Fool's day does not make you less of a fool on the other days of the year." ~ Kurt Avish

  "Men reach their sexual peak at eighteen. Women reach theirs at thirty-five. Do you get the feeling that God is playing a practical joke?" ~ Rita Rudner

  "Here cometh April again, and as far as I can see the world hath more fools in it than ever." ~ Charles Lamb

  "The trouble with practical jokes is that very often they get elected." ~ Will Rogers

  "A man always blames the woman who fools him. In the same way he blames the door he walks into in the dark." ~ Henry Louis Mencken

  "APRIL FOOL, n. The March fool with another month added to his folly." ~ Ambrose Bierce

  "Isn't it appropriate that the month of the tax begins with April Fool's Day and ends with cries of 'May Day!'?" ~ Anonymous

  "The human race has been set up. Someone, somewhere, is playing a practical joke on us. Apparently, women need to feel loved to have sex. Men need to have sex to feel loved. How do we ever get started?" ~ Billy Connolly

  "Life is one fool thing after another whereas love is two fool things after each other." ~ Oscar Wilde

  The End -- Really!

 

 

 


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