Showing posts with label 5-Star Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 5-Star Review. Show all posts

Good morning, everyone! Let's see, it was last winter when Immortal Trust came out, and it's well past time for another installment. You've been waiting patiently--and not so patiently for some--but here it is!



IMMORTAL SACRIFICE
The Curse of the Templars, Book IV

In the wake of an Italian mobster’s death, the archangels charge Immortal Templar Knight Caradoc of Asterleigh with protecting a necklace that contains Christ’s tears. He vows to bring the relic home, never imagining he’ll have to battle Isabelle Speranza, the only woman he’s ever loved and whom he left in a futile attempt to protect her heart.  Discovering she’s his fated seraph changes everything.  For the dark lord Azazel is hunting the Templar mates.

Isabelle lost her heart to Caradoc in a whirlwind affair abroad, only to be abandoned in the middle of the night.  When she encounters Caradoc in Sicily three years later, her buried anger fuels desire that won’t be denied.  Yet a dark shadow threatens their reunion.  Azazel has discovered her greatest weakness, and her dreams promise unspeakable horrors if she fails to procure the sacred necklace. 


As danger stalks her, Isabelle reveals an unbelievable secret.  To save them both, Caradoc must accept her truths, even if it means turning from everything he’s sworn to uphold.


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EXCERPT:

Bliss rocketed through her body, lighting her up from the inside out.  This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved, for nearly three years.  Caradoc holding her, kissing her, telling her all the words he’d once whispered with just the touch of his tongue.

Apologies flowed between them, words she no longer cared about and yet somehow inherently understood.  Urgency replaced the gentleness of his mouth.  The slow, sensual stroke of his tongue became demanding.  Possessive.

Isabelle surrendered with a muffled cry, and they came together with startling ferocity.  He hauled her close, eroding every last bit of her rational thought with the press of his strong, hard body.  Heat filtered through their clothing, warming her skin and warding away the lingering chill in her veins.

Too long she’d known this only in memory.  Too long she’d relied on distant sensations to nurse her soul-deep yearning.  But now it was real.  Caradoc was here.  Kissing her as if nothing had changed between them and they were once more locked away in a cottage in England, lovers who couldn’t get enough of one another.

The slide of his hand along the length of her spine stirred her heartbeat into an erratic rhythm.  Each staccato pulse shot zings of ecstasy to every nerve ending she possessed until they all stood on end and her body trembled with sensory overload.  His powerful arms surrounded her.  His mouth dominated.  His broad chest offered shelter from every catastrophe she could imagine.

She couldn’t get enough.  Hungered for every bit of raw emotion that Caradoc had once exposed her to.  Craved the feel of his skin sliding against hers, the sensation of taking him into her body and knowing him only as a lover could.  She squirmed against the building ache within her womb and gave in to a soft moan.

The sound, however, jolted her back to reality, and the harsh realism sent her crashing through ecstasy to land in a bruised heap on the cold hard truth.  This wasn’t the man who made her believe in dreams and fairytales.  This was the man who’d sworn his love then left her to wake up confused and alone.

Isabelle shoved out of his embrace.  “I’m not doing this,” she rasped. Not in a hundred years.  Make that a hundred centuries.

She straightened her skirt then bent over to pick up her purse that had landed on the floor some time earlier.  Slinging it over her shoulder, she bolted for the door.

“Isabelle, wait!”  Caradoc caught up with her in four determined strides.  His fingers wrapped around her wrist.  “I did not mean for that to happen.”

“Of course not!”  She gave her arm a fierce jerk at the same time she opened the door.  “You didn’t mean it before, why should you now?”


~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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We're back with more of Clint and Jesse from A Christmas to Believe In!

For more of the brothers, check out the other two books in the Three Kings trilogy.



A Christmas to Believe In
Amazon | Barnes and Noble


When a man's dreams are in ruin, all he needs is someone to believe...

Struggling Thoroughbred breeder, Clint King, hasn’t been home for Christmas in five years. Like his brothers, Alex and Heath, life has kept him away. Clint’s farm is barely hanging on. His prize mare's due to foal any day, and in the wake of his father’s death, Clint can’t stand the idea of returning. The memories are too much, let alone his father’s imposing shadow. Except, Alex is getting married on Christmas Eve, and their mother’s put her foot down. She’ll have her boys at home. With his mare in tow behind him, Clint prepares to meet a sister he’s never known and Alex’s unexpected triplets. The one salvation he looks forward to is childhood companion, tomboy Jesse Saurs. Yet when he reunites with Jesse, he uncomfortably discovers she’s become all woman.

Jesse Saurs has everything she needs – financial security, a home, and a foster child who’s about to become her son. She’s spent two years breaking down Ethan’s emotional barriers, and with the final hearing scheduled just before Christmas, this year promises to make his dreams come true. When she learns Clint and his brothers are returning, she anticipates a holiday reunion that’s sure to entertain Ethan. But on the night of Clint’s return, the ‘brother’ she expected leaves her trembling after just a single hug. Even worse, Ethan makes it clear Clint's not welcome.

Will this Christmas destroy what's left of hopes and dreams, or will it give the three the gift they've all been longing for?

~~~~~~~
Chapter Two




Clint steered on autopilot, staring at the tail lights in front of him. He’d much rather keep his horse at a professional stable. Not that he couldn’t provide the same care for his mare—hell, he’d provide better regardless of where she stayed. Being forced to go to Jesse’s, at least twice a day, when every time she looked at him his cock answered with a twinge, didn’t bode well.

He was tense enough already. If his mare foaled before January 1, the foal would become a yearling at less than two weeks of age. Which meant when the foal joined the rest of the racing field, he or she would be competing at a severe disadvantage.

Which meant dreams broken. Financial disaster. Every penny he’d saved was in that mare and her foal. Sired by a Grade 1, stakes-winning, stallion, and out of a heavily black-typed mare, the foal was as sure of a shot as he could get at a muchneeded Derby win. If it came out of the oven next year.

The whole damn situation had him waking up with headaches that lingered throughout the day. He absolutely didn’t need misplaced desire furthering his agitation. And certainly not when Jesse was the subject of said desire.

Jessie, for God’s sake. Man, Heath and Alex would give him hell for weeks, if they ever found out. Make that months. For that matter, it would destroy his friendship with her. Where they shared a casual comfortableness, tension would slip in. She’d avoid Mom’s. Mom would wonder why. In the end, he’d just be the jerk that drove Jesse away.

No, this was absolutely not where he wanted his horse. He’d accept it for the night, but come tomorrow morning, he was hitting the phone book for another boarding stable. Maybe even a veterinary clinic that offered foaling services.

He eased around the turn to her drive and rolled up the winding gravel path. Around him, the snow-covered landscape glistened beneath the light of the moon. The thick evergreens bordering the Saurs’ property drooped with clumps of ice and snow. He took it in, admiring the landscape. Thirty years, he’d lived in this cozy country corner of North Kansas City, and he hadn’t ever stopped to appreciate how pretty it could be.

Then again, he’d been twelve or thirteen when Missouri last saw this much snow.

Jesse eased to a stop behind her parents’ house, and her headlights went dark as she shut off the car. Jumping outside, she motioned him on ahead to the barn. When he pulled forward, he caught a glimpse of her wrapping a scarf around her neck before she disappeared from his side mirror.

He sincerely hoped she didn’t plan on helping him get his mare settled in. After the way his libido responded to touching her hand earlier, he could use the time alone. Taking care of Angel would steer his traitorous thoughts down a more appropriate course. One that absolutely didn’t involve fleeting visions of what Jesse might look like beneath that soft, baby blue sweater.

Choking back a groan, he eased the truck and trailer to a stop in front of the barn doors. New red paint hid the cracked, grey boards he remembered. A coat of brilliant white on the eaves and cross-boards added a touch of warm welcoming. Man, they used to play hide in seek in here as kids. Dug for snakes where her grandfather once stored hay. On more than one occasion, they’d camped out overnight in the loft and told ghost stories until all four of them surrendered their courage and raced back inside her house.

What happened to that Jesse? He’d have leapt at the idea of boarding Angel here if his tomboy friend had suggested the idea.

As reluctance crept into his veins, he eased out of the truck. Moving around to the side of the trailer, he took a lead rope out of the small tack room. He shut the door with a firm push and turned toward the rear loading door, only to find Jesse standing at his side.

Beneath the brim of her stylish winter hat, her eyes shone bright. One dark tendril of hair escaped the cap, falling just in front of her ear and framing the side of her face in a uniquely appealing fashion. His fingers itched to push it aside, tuck it behind her ear. Touch her cheek and see if it felt as silky as it looked.

She smiled and rubbed her hands together to generate warmth. “Tell me what to do?”

Go inside.

Clint bit back the uncalled for sharp retort. She hadn’t done anything to deserve his annoyance. It wasn’t her fault something had cross-fired in his brain. He forced himself to smile. “Open up the barn? I’ll get her.”

“Sure thing.”

Jesse trotted off through the ankle-deep drifts, her long dark hair tumbling along after her. Clint’s gaze fixed on the sway of her hips. Hugged by her dark jeans, she had the most amazing, perfect little, heart-shaped bottom.

With a roll of his eyes and a mutter, he turned back to his trailer and unlatched the door. Perfect or not, Jesse would deck him if she caught him looking.

“Hey girl.”

The dark bay mare nickered in return. Shavings rustled as she turned around and took a step closer.

“That’s right. We’re here. Don’t get too comfortable, we’re leaving in the morning.”

Stepping back, he unhooked the safety and slowly lowered the loading ramp to the ground. Angel moved to the edge of the stable box, and he snapped the end of the lead beneath her chin. He gave her an encouraging tug, and she took a tentative step out. Her ears pricked, she lifted her head and let out a long snort. Then, with more purpose, she descended into the snow.

****

From the open doorway, Jesse watched as Clint led a breathtaking mare her way. A wide white blaze ran between dark eyes and curled over one nostril. Neatly clipped, her short black mane grazed a muscular neck. Tall and sleek, despite the oversized belly that gave her an ambling gait, she carried herself with regal grace.

“She’s beautiful.” Stepping aside to let them pass, Jesse took in the mare’s dark, shiny coat. If not for the reddish hint that glinted in the dim light, she’d have sworn the mare was pitch black.

“Thanks,” Clint murmured. “Where to?”

“Over there.” Jesse swept her arm sideways indicating the old, dust-covered stall. “It’s not much, but it’s warm and dry.”

He escorted his horse through the half-door and secured her to a thick post. “I’ve got some shavings in the trailer. It won’t take long to get her settled in, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

She blinked. “Don’t be silly. You’re not in my hair, Clint.”

Halfway to the door, he paused and gave her a long look. Under the scrutiny of his warm amber gaze, a flush crept through her body. She crossed her arms protectively, feeling at once exposed and at the same time, strangely pleased.

A frown tugged his eyebrows together, and he opened his mouth to say something. Thinking better of it, he closed it and disappeared out the door. In a few seconds, he reappeared toting a vacuum-sealed bale of pine shavings.

He entered the stall, took out a pocketknife, and sliced the bag open. He dumped it in the corner, creating a fragrant mound. Still without speaking, he returned outside, presumably for another.

Jesse jumped to action. She wouldn’t stand by and let Clint do all the work when it was twenty degrees out. She hurried after him, catching up as he stepped out of the trailer’s tack room toting another bag of shavings. “I’ll take that.” Before he could argue, she snatched it out of his hands.

“Hey,” he protested.

She tossed him a wink and grinned. “I’m not helpless.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what? C’mon, it’ll go faster with two, then you can come inside and warm up with some coffee. Say hello to Ethan.”

She didn’t give him a chance to protest. With a hefty yank, she dragged the bag toward the barn and dumped it beside the first pile. Six piles later, she joined Clint in flattening the shavings with the side of her boot. Then, she left the stall and leaned on the rough plank wall.

Clint approached his mare with a faint smile. He stroked the side of her neck, her shoulder, her expansive belly, and Jesse stared, transfixed. In all the years she’d known Clint, she’d never seen such compassion. Such respect. He moved around the mare, murmuring in a voice so low she couldn’t make out the words. But the expression on his face left no doubt about what he said. Praises. Little whispers of affection.

When he bent forward and pressed a kiss to her velvety nose, Jesse’s heart lurched. She’d listened to him babble about the race horses he’d worked with that long ago summer at The Woodlands. Back then, she’d known he loved his job, but she’d never fully grasped what took him away from Kansas City to Kentucky. Now, watching him, a little bubble of pride burst deep inside her soul. He’d gone after his dream. He was good with this horse. Damn good. And his love for his mare was unmistakable.

He stepped away from the horse, her halter in hand, and joined Jesse at the stall’s rail. Elbows propped over the top, he leaned forward and watched his horse.

“She’s really pretty,” Jesse whispered.

“She’s my future, Jesse. Everything’s riding on that foal.”

“How so?” Jesse tipped her head up to look at him. She took in the firm line of his strong jaw, his high-set cheekbones, the way his hair dusted the top of his ears. The shadows intensified the hint of whiskers on his chin, and she curled her fingers into her gloves, resisting the urge to run her knuckle over the stubble.

“I had some bad luck the last several years. So, I changed my tactics. I’ve still got good runners back home, but this one…” He nodded to the horse in reference. “I dumped all my savings into her and this foal. Pray that baby doesn’t make an appearance before New Year’s.”

Giving him a quizzical look, Jesse asked, “Why?”

“The Jockey Club ages Thoroughbreds on January first of every year. They compete, among other restrictions, by age. It will be a yearling come January first, which means that foal will have to run against horses a full year older. Situations like that don’t lead to wins very often.”

“But there’s a chance, right?”

“Slim.”

She turned her gaze back to the mare and fell into silence. She didn’t know much about horses, but the way the mare grunted as she turned around suggested discomfort. As Jesse watched, the horse turned her head and looked at her flank. Her belly moved with the shift of a leg.

“What’s her name?”

When Clint didn’t immediately answer, she inched closer and gave his elbow a jab. “Hey. You in there?”

Clint smiled down at her with a chuckle. He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in against his side. “Sorry.”

At once, the heady aroma of spice and leather seeped into her awareness. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She could stand here all night long, soaking up his warmth, pretending he was someone else. Someone who wouldn’t mind if she rose up on tiptoe and stole a kiss.

Instead, she shifted and nuzzled her cheek into his chest. One palm over the steady drum of his heart, she let out a contented sigh. “It’s good to have you home, Clint.”

His voice reverberated beneath her ear, amplifying his low murmur. “It’s good to be here.”

Lord, if he had any idea how the husky quality of his deep baritone turned her belly into liquid, he’d laugh her all the way out of the barn. She hid a blush by snuggling closer and dipping her head. Her fingers twitched with the longing to run her hand down his expansive chest and over his taut stomach.

He’d always been meticulous about working out. No doubt, those muscles would be firm and hard. A playground designed for fingertips, nails, lips.

She winced at the thought. Nothing good could come from thinking about Clint sexually. But it had been so long since a man had held her, so long since she’d even considered intimacy, she couldn’t squelch the fantasy of what he’d look like beneath his layers of clothes.

Distance would help. However, she wasn’t ready to let him leave just yet.

Leaning back into his familial embrace, she looked up at him with a smile. “Come inside for coffee? We can catch up. You can meet Ethan if I can drag him off his video game.”

Clint’s gaze fixed on something behind her. “I should get back to the house. With Mom’s broken ankle, she’ll need the help.”

As a rule, Jesse admired the way Clint embraced responsibility. Even as kids, he’d always been the voice of all their consciences. He’d always helped around the house, in the yard, worked a little harder at school than the rest of them.

Tonight, however, his need to step up to the plate and do what was expected only tweaked her nerves. If he didn’t have his arm around her, she’d swear he wanted away from her.

She turned a goading smile on him. “Oh, c’mon. They can live without you for a cup of coffee. Come inside with me.”

Twisting free, she caught his hand and tugged. Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze off his mare. Yet, as she led him out of the barn, he didn’t attempt to protest.


~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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Another Sunday Six from my favorite romance novel, A Broken Christmas



“Why, Aimee?”

What he asked went so much deeper than her refusal to sign the divorce papers. In his broken stare, his swollen eyes, his wet eyelashes, she heard the cry from his soul. Why him? Why stay?

Why forgive and accept him as he was?




~~~~~~~~

A Broken Christmas
Amazon | Barnes and Noble



Delta Force operative Kyle Garland divorced his wife to protect her. His top-secret missions expose him to constant danger, and his world is full of lies and deceit. But the threat to Aimee doesn’t come in the form of insurgents or bombs. Rather, his soul-deep love and the dreams he silently nurtures are her greatest hazard. When a career-ending injury brings him home for Christmas, to keep her safe he must bury his feelings and hide the monster he’s become.

Fourteen months ago, Aimee had the perfect marriage… then Kyle blindsided her with a divorce. Now, he’s coming home, and she intends to get her answers. Yet the crippled man she confronts bears scars her years of nursing cannot heal. The secret he’s hiding is tearing him apart. No matter how she tries, he keeps her at a distance, despite the love that’s still evident in his kiss. What Aimee doesn’t know is her own damaged past terrifies Kyle more than any wartime horror.

As she forces him to confront his demons, will the holiday shred the fragile bonds they share, or will Christmas complete all their broken parts?



~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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In keeping with the holiday spirit, we're still reading Christmas stories on Tuesdays.  This week, take a peek at A Christmas to Believe In, the third book in the Three Kings trilogy.


A Christmas to Believe In
Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble


When a man's dreams are in ruin, all he needs is someone to believe...

Struggling Thoroughbred breeder, Clint King, hasn’t been home for Christmas in five years. Like his brothers, Alex and Heath, life has kept him away. Clint’s farm is barely hanging on. His prize mare's due to foal any day, and in the wake of his father’s death, Clint can’t stand the idea of returning. The memories are too much, let alone his father’s imposing shadow. Except, Alex is getting married on Christmas Eve, and their mother’s put her foot down. She’ll have her boys at home. With his mare in tow behind him, Clint prepares to meet a sister he’s never known and Alex’s unexpected triplets. The one salvation he looks forward to is childhood companion, tomboy Jesse Saurs. Yet when he reunites with Jesse, he uncomfortably discovers she’s become all woman.

Jesse Saurs has everything she needs – financial security, a home, and a foster child who’s about to become her son. She’s spent two years breaking down Ethan’s emotional barriers, and with the final hearing scheduled just before Christmas, this year promises to make his dreams come true. When she learns Clint and his brothers are returning, she anticipates a holiday reunion that’s sure to entertain Ethan. But on the night of Clint’s return, the ‘brother’ she expected leaves her trembling after just a single hug. Even worse, Ethan makes it clear Clint's not welcome.

Will this Christmas destroy what's left of hopes and dreams, or will it give the three the gift they've all been longing for?

~~~~~~~

Chapter One




Snow crunched beneath the Chevy pickup’s tires as Clint King navigated around a turn. In the silent dark, his blinker clicked a steady beat that tempered his nerves. In the rear-view mirror, he checked that the two-horse trailer on his bumper didn’t slip in the light sheen of ice. The last thing he needed was a wreck.

As if today wasn’t bad enough.

He mumbled as he glanced down at the gas gauge. A few more miles and the warning light would come on. Thank God Mom’s house lurked just around the next bend. He could finally get off the snow-covered highways between Brandenburg, Kentucky and the Kansas City Northlands. Eight hours of treacherous roads was enough strain to turn a saint into a sinner.

Then again, if his mother hadn’t dosed out a heavy round of guilt, he’d be happily tucked into his couch, watching the latest DVD release. Even a saint couldn’t stand up to Mom’s masterful manipulation. He could still hear her heavy sigh. The carefully chosen words echoed in his head. But Clint, you missed your father’s last Christmas.

He had. Certainly not intentionally, but he’d missed it all the same. None of them had foreseen their father would die the following summer. This last summer. When Clint had been too busy prepping for the track to come home for the Fourth of July.

Guilt rose up to curdle his stomach and compressed his chest. He tightened his hands on the wheel. Damn, he didn’t want to do this. Coming back here stirred up all kinds of memories. Each mile he crossed brought pictures of the past. Dad taking him and his brothers sledding. Dad holding the camera as they all opened gifts. Even the last Christmas Clint had spent with his family his father had maintained the specific role of photographer. Who would take the pictures this year—Alex?

Clint shook his head. No, he was the eldest. That should be his responsibility. Alex had other things on his mind. More important things like a long-lost sister none of them had known about until a few weeks ago. Alex also had new triplet daughters to worry about. News Clint would have loved to see Alex’s high and mighty fiancĂ©e hear. That ought to be quite the twist to Alex’s Christmas Eve wedding. Heath would be too caught up in the festivities.

Hell, for that matter, Heath probably hadn’t even thought to bring a camera. Even if Dad’s sat in the closet, Heath would be goofing off. He’d always gotten away with it too. As the peacemaker of the family, he’d never been on the receiving ends of Mom’s down-the-nose looks, or Dad’s stern, “I expected more from you” frowns. No, Heath fixed everything with an innocent expression and humor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Clint steered around a slow left hand curve. Up the hillside, pale blue lights dangled from high gables. White strands wound around the porch beams. Even from this distance, the deep red glow of his mother’s Christmas wreath shone from the front door.

Home. Five years later, and he was home.

Further off in the distance, he observed the festive red and green bulbs that always decorated Jesse Saurs’ folks’ barn. Some things never changed. Odd though, Mom had mentioned something about the Saurs moving. Did that mean Jesse still lived in that old house on the hill?

His spirits brightened at the thought. If Jesse were around, things would be like old times. Too bad they were all too old for car-hood sledding—she’d been the best driver out of the whole gang. They weren’t, however, too old for a good, old-fashioned snowball fight. And if his memory served, he still owed her for an ice-ball in the nose.

A grin quirked the corner of his mouth. That girl knew how to throw. His nose had bled for almost an hour.

Man, if he had to have a sister, why couldn’t it have been her? Instead, he had to deal with some stranger. Keeley Jacobs might be his father’s daughter, but Clint was pretty damn certain she didn’t know how to cheat at arm wrestling like Jesse did. He was also pretty certain neither of his brothers would put up with a strategically placed toe in the ribs from her either.

Guess he’d find out. As much as he didn’t care to meet his new half-sibling, Mom made it clear she intended to welcome the woman with open arms. Which meant this family get-together would come with strangers.

He shifted into second to climb the steep driveway. The trailer skidded, threatening to pull him back onto the road. Scowling, Clint dropped the truck into four-wheel drive, and gave it a bit more gas. The rig jumped as the trailer bounced forward. Slowly, he inched up the gravel drive.

At the top, he pulled straight into the yard. He still had to find stabling for his horse, and turning around up here wouldn’t be easy. Mom could deal with the tread marks. She’d wanted him to come. Insisted on it. She could deal with the fact his prize mare was due to foal any day. If he were lucky, the trailer ride hadn’t stressed her, and she wouldn’t choose tonight.

He opened the door to her sharp whinny. Jumping down into the snow, he tromped to the rear of the trailer and threw open the top half of the loading doors. She twisted her elegant neck around to give him an expectant look.

“Not yet, Angel.”

Clint closed the door and made his way around to the escape door. The hinges creaked as he pulled it open. He stepped inside, kicked his way through the loose bedding, and moved up to her head to give her an affectionate pat. She rode free, not tied to anything, in the event sudden labor set in. Not familiar with her foaling habits, he didn’t dare take the risk she might try to lie down, despite the unlikelihood.

“Eat your hay while I run inside. We’ll get you settled in soon.” He scratched her behind the ears, ran his hand down her mane, and patted her shoulder. “No foals, Angel. You gotta cook that one until January.”

She answered his order with a lazy blink.

Satisfied they were in agreement, Clint climbed out of the trailer and secured the door. He crossed behind his bumper, stepped over the hitch. His gaze fell on the house. Bright lights flooded the snowcovered porch with a warm yellow glow. The Christmas tree twinkled behind the front window.

Through the frosty panes, he glimpsed Alex seated on the couch. Alex laughed at something, and though the sound didn’t filter outside, Clint could hear the rumble of his voice.

Maybe coming home wouldn’t turn out so bad after all. He hadn’t seen his brothers in years.

He made his way to the porch, stopped in front of the door to stomp the snow off his boots. Bells jangled as he opened the door.

A chorus of laughter greeted his ears. Alex looked up with a broad grin. But what caught Clint’s immediate attention was the flash of movement near the hearth. He glanced over in time to see a woman punch Heath in the arm. She tumbled back into her chair, giggling, then turned bright blue eyes on him. Jesse.

“Clint!” Her excited greeting blended with his brothers’ hellos.

Her smile, however, made his breath catch. Something deep in his gut tripped as he took another step inside and Jesse eased to her feet. Long black hair tumbled to her waist, just as she’d always worn it. He’d seen those raven locks a thousand times, but they’d never shone quite like they did as she crossed the room.

To his shame, his gaze skipped down to her toes, taking in curves he’d never noticed, and a waist so tiny he could span his hands around it. She wore jeans that hugged thighs he knew were muscular. Only, five years ago, they’d just been Jesse’s legs. Now, they belonged to a…

He caught the sweet scent of lilacs as she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Soft curves melted against his chest.

A woman.

When in the hell had Jesse grown up? She’d been thirty when they’d last spent any time together. Even as an adult, he’d still seen the tomboy she’d always been. His little sister. But damn… She felt good. All feminine.

He collected himself enough to return her hug. “I’ll be damned, Jesse. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Is that Clint?” his mother called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom. I’m here.”

Jesse pulled out of his embrace, leaving his skin tingling where they’d touched. Good grief, what was the matter with him? He’d wrestled with her, for God’s sake, and hadn’t ever been affected by touching her. For that matter, they’d all skinny dipped in Longview Lake one summer. And those breasts hadn’t been anywhere near as compelling as they were beneath her light blue sweater right now. Shoot, he hadn’t even known she’d had breasts back then.

Well, he’d known, but there was a distinct difference.

“Clinton, come give your mother a kiss.” His mother’s call jarred him back to sense.

Thankfully, it also offered a means of escape. He glanced about the room, offered a short nod and said, “Be right back.” Avoiding eye contact with those disturbingly unsettling blue eyes, he followed the aroma of apples and cinnamon into the kitchen.

****

Stunned, Jesse curled into her chair with her feet tucked beneath her and trained a smile to her face. Though she pretended interest in Heath and Alex’s conversation, her gaze followed Clint’s retreat. Loose blue jeans pulled around firm buttocks, tapered down thick thighs to bunch at the neck of his tan hiking boots. He ducked his head as he stepped under the doorframe, and thick dark waves touched the neck of his beige sweater. Wide shoulders hunched to shorten his long frame.

She could not be staring at the same Clint who she’d grown up with. That Clint’s one-dimple grin made her want to poke her finger in his cheek. This Clint’s lazy grin had temporarily stopped her heart. Where had this one come from?

“Dontcha think, Jesse?” Alex gestured her way, his look expectant.

She blinked. Not knowing what to say, she stammered, “Oh. Ah, yeah.”

“See, little brother?” Alex tossed a rolled up paper at Heath. “No way can Arizona beat K-State. Don’t you know Jesse’s never wrong about football?”

Once upon a time, maybe. But until right now, she hadn’t even known her Alma Mater had made it to the bowl. Or which one for that matter. However, now wasn’t the time to clue the King brothers in on the fact she’d given up her tomboy ways years ago. That would require conversation. Until her heart stopped this ridiculous hammering, she didn’t dare brave her voice.

Clint’s deep laughter rumbled from the kitchen. Her gaze pulled back to the open doorway. A strange tingling sensation tripped down her spine. Somehow, he’d changed his laugh too. It no longer made her want to join in. Instead, the urge to giggle set in. Giggle, for heaven’s sake.

How come that hadn’t happened when he came back earlier this year for his father’s funeral?

Because he wasn’t laughing, dummy.

Well that logically explained the prickling of her skin. Yet, it didn’t reason why she hadn’t noticed the man in July. He’d worn a suit and tie, but even all dressed up, she hadn’t really seen him. What did jeans and a cable-knit sweater have over formal wear?

Why in the world did she care? This was Clint. Clint, who lived in Kentucky. Clint, who liked horses, and she didn’t know the first thing about them. Clint who knew the embarrassing secret that at sixteen, she’d let Mark Hammond, the school nerd, put his hands up her shirt in exchange for the right to copy off his Algebra quizzes.

Of course, she hadn’t told Clint. He’d found out when Mark asked if Clint could barter up a better payment for answers. Still. Clint knew things about her no man should.

His heavy heel squeaked the board just inside the kitchen doorway. He stepped through carrying four small plates of homemade apple pie. His gaze flicked to her, and to Jesse’s shame, her stomach clamped into an anxious ball.

Lord, he was handsome.

Amelia King hobbled to her chair beside the twinkling Christmas tree, her recently broken ankle slowing her usually quick pace. She bent over to set her plate and a coffee cup down on the end table and paused. With a tip of her head, she peeked out the front window. “Sweetheart, is that a horse trailer in my front yard?”

His arm half-extended to offer Jesse her plate, Clint froze. His amber eyes locked with hers. A touch of color flushed his cheeks as he answered, “Ah, yeah.”

Amelia sat down and frowned at her oldest son. “Why?”

“Well…” Clint handed Jesse the plate. Their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of pleasant energy rippling up Jesse’s arm. Clint’s gaze flashed with something she couldn’t define. He pulled his hand away so fast he nearly dropped the pie in her lap. She caught it at the last moment, then dropped her gaze to stare at the sugar-dusted crust.

He eased himself into the couch cushion closest to her and fixed his stare on his mother. “I was going to ask you if old man Jameson still ran that boarding stable on the north end of town. I had to bring my mare along. She’s due to foal any day.”

Jesse let her gaze stray sideways to his knee. It rested close enough that if she unwound her legs they’d touch. Solid, sturdy—she could almost feel the way his leg would lean into hers in a silent expression of affection.

She gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? Clint would never do something like that. At least not with her. She had no business even letting the thought register. He might be handsome, but he was still Clint, and she was still his little sister. The way he’d jerked his hand away said more about his thoughts on touching her than anything.

Blinking, she pushed aside the thoughts that clouded her mind and focused on the conversation. All three raptly discussed who might have a boarding stable, who might be willing to take on a pregnant mare on short notice, and how far Clint would have to drive to tend to his horse.

“Clint,” she began with a slight frown. His gaze pulled to hers so quickly she stumbled over her immediate thoughts. Swallowing, she willed her voice not to shake. “Why don’t you use Mom and Dad’s old barn? I put a new roof on it last year, so it should be watertight. I use half for storage but there’s a stall we could fix up. You’d be close to your mother and your horse.”

“Hey good idea. I can help you fix it up tomorrow, Clint,” Alex offered.

Clint’s gaze held Jesse’s, spreading unfamiliar warmth through her veins. The urge to move, to somehow extract herself from that rich, amber intensity, gripped fierce. A woman could get lost in those expressive eyes. Dangerously lost.

Many had too, she reminded herself. He’d always drawn the girls. All three had, frankly. And she’d gained more enemies for being close to them, than she’d ever gained friends.

“I might stop by and help you two out. I’ve got some things to do in town first thing in the morning though,” Heath interjected.

Jesse struggled to find her usual flippant humor. With a forced grin, she gave Clint a teasing wink. “Gee. Brotherly bonding. In my barn. Remind me to stay away. I get enough testosterone with Ethan in the house.”

A frown tugged Clint’s eyebrows together. “Who’s Ethan?”

Her smile widened with genuine fondness. “If things go right this week at court, he’ll be my son. I’m his foster mother.”

Those dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You? Little Jesse? A mom?”

She refrained from laughing, though her humor bubbled in her throat. That made three who’d had the same reaction. “He’s thirteen. And I’m sure he’d love to see a horse in person.”

“Well then, in that case, I guess I can’t refuse.” His gaze shifted to the window.

Jesse took the opportunity to draw in a muchneeded deep breath and forked a bite of pie into her mouth. Ethan required careful handling.

Introducing him to these three would be tricky. But maybe the horse would be icebreaker enough. Lord knew Ethan needed a male influence. One who wouldn’t make him feel inferior.

“That sounds fabulous. Thank you, Jessica,” Amelia said.

As Clint stared out the window, his jaw tightened. He set his plate aside, having taken only a couple of bites out of the pie. “I should go ahead and move her. Mind if I go on up?”

Jesse shoveled the last bite of crust into her mouth, passed her plate to Heath, and stood up. “I’ll go with you. I should be getting back anyway. I promised Ethan I wouldn’t be late.”

Without another word, Clint stood up, crossed to the door, and stepped outside.

Perplexed, Jesse shot Alex a quizzical look. He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, Hell if I know. Outside, Clint’s truck roared to life.

“I guess that’s my cue to hurry.” Jesse plucked her coat off the rack behind the door and shoved her arms in. “Thanks for the pie, Mom.”

Amelia gave her a fond smile. “Anytime, Jessica. We’ll see you soon, dear.”

Jesse let herself out to find Clint’s truck already pulled around and idling in the drive. She frowned. What in the world had she said that pissed him off? Her head ducked to the crisp air, she pondered the possibilities as she rushed to her car.


~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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Sunday Holiday Six again from All I Want for Christmas...Is Big Blue Eyes



She felt so good.


He tightened his arms, as if he might be able to erase everything and somehow transcend time. She nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, and he caught the back of her head in his hand, her silken hair sliding through his fingers. Tipping his chin, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

Amanda.

Like she could hear the silent plea in his heart, she edged away, freeing herself from his embrace.



~~~~~~~~



Some dreams were never meant to be... 

Renowned architect, Josh McDaniels, spent ten years avoiding his hometown and the unforgettable memories of his youth. But when a former classmate phones him before Christmas with a proposal he can’t refuse, he finds himself back in small-town, Lexington, Missouri, surrounded by holiday festivities and engulfed in memories of a blue-eyed girl. 

Amanda Masterson knows three things about Josh. She loves him, he loves her, and he’ll walk out when those feelings terrify him, as he always does. Ten years ago, he abandoned their dreams. Eight years ago, he returned to break her heart again. Now, he’s back once more, and this time, he’s jeopardizing not only her heart but her daughter’s as well. 

Can the spirit of Christmas overcome a past riddled with mistakes? Or will fears and doubts destroy the greatest gift of all?

BUY:  Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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Hello Readers!  It's Tuesday, and it's time for more teasers!  We're still with Amanda and Josh from All I Want for Christmas...Is Big Blue Eyes, and I hope you're enjoying it.  So with much ado, let's jump right into chapter three!




All I Want for Christmas...Is Big Blue Eyes
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo

Some dreams were never meant to be... 

Renowned architect, Josh McDaniels, spent ten years avoiding his hometown and the unforgettable memories of his youth. But when a former classmate phones him before Christmas with a proposal he can’t refuse, he finds himself back in small-town, Lexington, Missouri, surrounded by holiday festivities and engulfed in memories of a blue-eyed girl. 

Amanda Masterson knows three things about Josh. She loves him, he loves her, and he’ll walk out when those feelings terrify him, as he always does. Ten years ago, he abandoned their dreams. Eight years ago, he returned to break her heart again. Now, he’s back once more, and this time, he’s jeopardizing not only her heart but her daughter’s as well. 

Can the spirit of Christmas overcome a past riddled with mistakes? Or will fears and doubts destroy the greatest gift of all?

~~~~~~~~

Three


Josh slowly navigated his Mustang down South Street. The town hadn’t changed a hell of a lot. A few new buildings rose up in the middle of the square, a handful of other shops changed hands, but for the most part, Lexington looked exactly as he remembered.

House after house sported colorful Christmas lights that glistened against the deep, white snow. December wasn’t usually a month that saw a lot of snow in Missouri, but this year Mother Nature had been kind to the kids. Snowmen stood in front yards, broomsticks in their hands, old hats set on their heads. Other frosty creations dotted the sprawling lawns, adding to the charm of the historic district.

He blinked. Charm? Since when had he ever considered anything about Lexington remotely charming? It had to be the architect in him. The trained eye that appreciated angles and lines and masterful craftsmanship of an era long gone. Things he’d never noticed before his formal training.

Each house had a personality. A feeling all its own that the common market lacked today. Houses built in a month, sometimes more quickly, didn’t have heart. Houses that took years to build, like these sweeping brick monstrosities, were made by people who cared about their work. Men who put a little of their soul into each assignment. The way Josh did with each hand-drawn blueprint he produced.

He could relate to these old buildings. Or at least the folks that built them.

Nosing his car down the narrow drive to The Victorianne, he eased around the towering mansion that embodied his thoughts. Talk about heart. Its two-story magnificence, complete with tall towers, breathtaking gables, a covered porch, and a second-story balcony, epitomized the beauty of Victorian architecture. His favorite period.

Rolling to a stop, he set the brake and turned off the ignition. He sat a few minutes longer in the silence, admiring the bed and breakfast. Now long after dark, twinkling lights decorated the covered porch, nestled between greenery interwoven around the banister. Very Christmassy. Olivia and he had never made a fuss over the holiday. Not like they had as kids. It felt strange knowing he’d be spending the next two weeks buried in the heart of holiday celebration. He’d have to pick up something for Lucas. If he could figure out where his former best friend’s interests were theses days. His hobbies. Hell, Josh didn’t even know where Lucas was working.

He opened his car door, grabbed his luggage, and wandered to the front door. It opened instantly, Susannah Anderson greeting him with a wide smile.

“Josh McDaniels. How good to see you.” She opened the glass door with the friendly welcome. “Come in. How are you? How is Olivia?”

“I’m doing fine, Mrs. Anderson. Olivia’s well too. I’ll be sure to tell her you asked.”

He wouldn’t. Olivia didn’t care.

Taking care to stomp his feet on the rug, he stepped into the front foyer and glanced around. Striped paper lined the walls, offsetting the rich, dark wood of the opposite stairwell and an elaborate wooden mantel that glowed with a cozy gas fire.

“What brings you back to Lexington? How long’s it been now since your daddy died? Don’t think I’ve seen you, or Olivia, since.”

There it was. He’d wondered who would be the first to mention it. Susannah Anderson hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Eight years, ma’am.”

“Such a shame that was. He was such a good man. Just couldn’t hold himself together when your mother had to leave to take care of her sister. His whole world revolved around Ramona.”

Josh ground his teeth together, managing a polite, “Yes, ma’am.” Nothing in the world could make him revisit that portion of his past. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since he was fifteen. The excuse she gave for walking out disgusted him. With his dad’s subsequent suicide, he lost all the family he had. Except Olivia.

As if sensing his deliberate silence, Susannah beckoned to him with a wag of her fingers. “I reckon you’re wanting to settle in for the night. Let me take you up to your room. I saved the green bedroom for you. You should have enough room to work in there.”

With a heavy step, she twisted a bad hip onto the stairwell, stopped, and shook her head. “Can’t do it, Josh. My legs aren’t up to it tonight. I have a young gal come by and clean for me during the days, but I haven’t been up these stairs all year. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile. Truth to tell, he’d rather be free of her polite, yet invasive, chatter.

“Go on up. Door’s open. If you need anything, I’ll be down here in the back rooms till around ten. Just holler.”

He nodded politely and made his way up the stairs, listening to the groan and creak of old wood. The kind of noises that added to the charm, gave these historic landmarks even more personality.

He let himself into the green room and gently set his bag in the chair near the gas fireplace. His suit bag, he hung in the wardrobe. Still needing to eat, he left his jacket on, his scarf hanging off his shoulders. Riley’s Pub and Grill called to him, their thick hamburgers a long-ago favorite. Maybe Lucas would go with him.

Only one way to find out—ask. He’d stop by on his way.

Bouncing his keys in his hand, he returned to his car and backed out of the parking spot. He turned north on 15th Street, went one block, and turned east on Franklin. Three blocks down, Lucas’ smaller, A-frame home sat in the middle of the block. Multicolored lights adorned the covered front porch and the short evergreen bushes in front of it. A pair of lighted white reindeer with red bows touched their noses to the snow near a gigantic snowman with stick arms.

Josh chortled. Some things never changed. Every winter, he and Lucas had tried to outdo the other with what they could make out of the snow. Josh’s snow penis finally won—although his dad had taken away the car for an entire month for that stunt. Amanda had been furious too. That was almost worse than not having the car.

Evidently, Lucas still honored tradition.

He pulled into the drive and looked up at the house. A bright yellow porch light illuminated the red door, and in the front window, another lamp burned bright. But the rest of the house was dark. No cars sat in the driveway, and the residence didn’t have a garage.

Damn. Josh wasn’t particularly in the mood to eat alone and risk running into someone else he knew. He had too many unfamiliar, uncomfortable feelings rumbling around inside him tonight to socialize. To pretend he wanted to be back here. To reminisce.

His stomach grumbled.

He’d order something to go. Take it back to The Victorianne and eat in his room. Afterward he’d phone Lucas and set up something for tomorrow evening, figure out where he should be, and when, for Mae’s Christmas party. The extra sleep would be good for him after the long hours of work this month.

The snow crunched under his tires as Josh backed down Lucas’ drive. He resisted the pull to go around the block past Amanda’s mother’s house, and turned around the way he’d come from. Nine blocks west and another north to Main, he pulled up in front of Riley’s Pub and got out. Loud music and raucous laughter hit him hard, shoving him back into the past, to the last time he’d been here. Eight years ago, the night of his father’s funeral, he’d gotten shit-faced with Amanda and Lucas in a desperate attempt to hide how much the suicide affected him. That night, Amanda…

He stopped, closing his eyes. This was exactly why he didn’t want to come back. Memories crept in, unbidden. Visions of Amanda’s dark blue eyes, how her blond hair tickled his cheek as she leaned over to give him a kiss. Her laughter. The husky catch in her voice when she whispered that she loved him.

With a grimace, Josh forced the image out of his head. Amanda was probably married now. Someone smarter than he, braver than he, would have snatched her up in a heartbeat. Maybe even taken her out of this godforsaken place as she’d longed for. He should have; he’d punished himself for the last ten years for not doing so. But he just…hadn’t.

Shouldering his way through the crowd, he wandered to the bar. Josh winced inwardly as he watched the bartender. A year younger than he, James Gillium looked like he hadn’t changed a day since high school. The kid played left-center on the football team and saved Josh from more sacks than anyone else. They’d been close once. Now, he was just one more person Josh wasn’t ready to see.

Behind the long row of colorful taps, James angled his lumberjack size around, fixing Josh with a hearty grin. “What can I get ya, stranger?”

Josh lowered his eyes, hoping to escape unnoticed. “Need a burger. Can you put it in a box for me?”

James cocked his head. His eyebrows scrunched together as he studied Josh. Slow dawning slipped into his features as his smile turned from bartender-polite to genuine welcome. “I’ll be damned. That really you, McDaniels? Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Plastering a polite smile on his face, Josh nodded. Couldn’t anyone think of anything more original to say? Or hell, for that matter, just pretend it hadn’t been eight years since he’d been here? There really wasn’t reason to make a production out of his impromptu visit.

“Want a beer? I’ll give you one on the house.”

Josh shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ll be here for a few days. I’ll come back in and visit, catch up a bit. I just want to hit the hay tonight.”

“You’re up in KC aren’t you now?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let me get you something while you wait on your order. You sure you don’t want a beer?”

What harm could one beer do? James had a point. Josh was going to sit at the bar for a while anyway—might as well make good use of his time. “Sure. Coors Light.”

As he reached for the tap, James smirked. “Never did get you to stop drinking that horse piss, eh? One of these days, you’re gonna realize Bud’s the way to go, McDaniels.”

“Shit,” Josh replied with a chuckle. “Last I knew, James, you couldn’t hold down even that.”

James’ loud laughter rumbled over the noisy din. “You come back here before you go. I’ll be happy to go one-for-one with you. We’ll see who stumbles down the street after. With a little luck, it’ll be your ass the cops pick up for public intoxication this time.”

He passed Josh his beer and lumbered around the bar into the kitchen.

Still chuckling, Josh stared down into the amber brew. Everything about Lexington wasn’t all bad. In between all the stuff that hurt like hell, he’d had some real good times as a kid. He’d forgotten most of those things. Not deliberately as he tried to do with the rest, just a result of the passing of time.

He looked up as James leaned his elbows on the bar in front of him. “So whatcha been up to? Heard you were some fancy architect in the city.”

“I don’t know about the fancy, but I work my ass off,” Josh answered with a grin.

“Ya married? Got kids?”

“Hell no.” Josh laughed as he lifted his chilled mug to his lips. He took a long drink, set it back down, and stared at the wavy pattern in the glass. “Don’t think I’ll ever settle down like that. Ain’t worth the trouble.” No one makes me feel like she did. “Everyone I know’s had a marriage fall apart ‘cause someone cheated.” He shrugged. “I don’t see the use in it. Less hassle to just enjoy what comes along, when it comes along, and when it gets old, let it go. Cheaper too.”

James bellowed with laughter again. “Ain’t that the truth? My ex has my boy in Columbia. I spend half my salary paying for him and only get to see him on holidays.”

Exactly why Josh never wanted children. He knew all too well the way it felt to be caught in the middle of divorce and custody issues. He’d rather die than force a child to go through that kind of confusing pain.
“Food’s up” a masculine voice hollered through a small window behind the bar.

“That’s your burger. Be right back.”

“What do I owe you?”

James shook his head as he reached for the Styrofoam box. “You come back before you leave. Spend an evening here. We’ll call it even.”

With a short nod, Josh pushed off his stool, waved goodbye, and escaped into the crisp night.

Thank God, that was over. He’d come back, but tonight wasn’t the night for cutting loose. Over the weekend, maybe, when the bar wasn’t so full of people. When he could relax a little and stop feeling like the instant he turned around, he’d confront someone from the past.

He set his burger on the seat next to him and started the engine. Driving down South Street, the city quieted the farther he went into the residential area near The Victorianne. Behind front windows, silhouettes moved around, the flash of televisions blinked against glass panes. Families retired early, a good portion of them likely to be at Mae’s, at least at some point, tomorrow night. For as long as he could remember, Mae had the Christmas party of the year. She invited practically the whole town.

Nosing into his parking space, he turned off the key. The engine rumbled to a stop, and he listened to the mechanical clicks beneath the hood as parts cooled off. Restlessness seeped into his bones, made his nerves twitch, urging him to do something. Telltale signs sleep would evade him tonight. Not what he needed.

He opened his burger box and took a bite. Maybe food would curb insomnia before it had the chance to set in. It better. He didn’t have a damn thing to occupy himself with through the night. He hadn’t even brought a book along.

Burger finished, he picked at his now-cold fries and muttered. So much for food helping him unwind. He still felt the pull to do something. Anything. Just move. Occupy his mind. That, partnered with the lingering discomfort in his gut, brought about from too many confrontations with memories, and he could kiss sleep goodnight completely at this point.

Perhaps a walk would tire him out. If nothing else, strolling past the decorated houses might help him get in touch with the holiday spirit. Amanda’s mother’s house was just down the street. He’d walk there and back. Two summers after his father passed, Lucas sent him a card telling him Mrs. Henders had passed away. Cancer had finally gotten the best of her. It would be interesting to see who lived in Amanda’s old house now.

Bullshit, Josh. You want to see her.

Had they repainted it? Did they ever cut down the old oak that got hit by lightning and split in half? Maybe another teenage girl now lived in the window near the elm’s thick branch, and he’d catch her sneaking out to meet the boy she was presently grounded from seeing. Or, maybe he’d find another boy like himself sneaking out the window, off to convince said girl out of her house because without her, Friday night was boring. Particularly when he didn’t have football games and couldn’t see her cheering on the sidelines in that dangerously short skirt that revealed a little too much for his eighteen-year-old hormones when she kicked her foot to her ear.

He chortled.

Damn, they’d all had some good times here.

Lost in thought, he wandered down the sidewalk, walking through the few fond memories Lexington held. He saw grade school games of tag behind the thick-trunked, old trees; days of riding bikes up and down South Street, terrorizing Mr. Johnson by finding every rock they could and dumping them into his Koi pond; summer evenings staring up at the stars with her.

The rumble of a car’s engine brought his head up, and he slowed his pace as a silver Honda Accord touched its brakes thirty or so feet in front of him. With a crunch, it rolled over the banked snow on the curb and pulled into Amanda’s mother’s driveway.

Josh gave in to a fond smile. He’d get a first-hand glimpse of who lived here now. Maybe a young couple, just starting out life, still caught up in newlywed bliss, not yet exposed to the reality of how faithless love was. They’d learn. But for a while, they’d feel like they had everything, that the whole world lay in their naive hands. Like he’d believed until his mother shattered that innocence.

He kept walking, approaching the driveway casually, his curiosity piqued.

The driver’s door opened. A woman climbed out, toting a plastic grocery sack in one hand. Her honey-blond hair brushed the top of her shoulders, and as she walked in front of the car, the automatic headlights gave it a soft sheen.

Josh’s heart skidded to a stop at the same time his feet did. It couldn’t be.

“Amanda?” he called out, quietly.

She stopped, turning around with a puzzled expression. “Yes?” She started back toward the car’s rear end.
He hurried forward, meeting her halfway. As those blue eyes focused on him, and recognition settled into their dark depths, Josh couldn’t breathe.

Oh, God. Amanda.

Everything inside him screamed to reach out, touch her, hold her in his arms, and go back. Go back where everything was normal. Where she was so in love with him she made him believe dreams were possible.

“Josh,” she whispered.

Nodding, he swallowed and searched for a smile. He found it, but it faltered with his nerves. Though he’d hoped, he hadn’t expected to find her here. Lucas hadn’t said anything. “Hi,” he managed.

“Hi.” She worried her free hand through her short hair, and in the streetlight, a diamond glittered on her left ring finger.

His gut turned over, clamping down tight. Someone had, indeed, been smarter and braver than he.
“I didn’t know you took over Mom’s house.”

Holding his gaze, she nodded. “It was all I had.”

Fighting down the urge to wince, he ignored the flash of hurt that passed behind her eyes. When she blinked, it was gone. But lurking there instead was something that took his breath away again. Emotion. The same kind that haunted his memories when he dared to think back on her. The kind that went hand in hand with the words, Josh, you’re everything to me.

He shifted his weight. “You look good, Amanda.”

She did too. She was still as slender as she’d always been, but the last eight years added a little softness to her youthful form. A woman’s fullness a man couldn’t hope to ignore. Age had yet to mark her face, aside from a few small smile crinkles in the corners of her eyes.

“Thanks. The years haven’t been too hard on you either.”

Her smile sent his heart careening into his ribs. For the love of God, he couldn’t stand here and not touch her. “Could I…” He swallowed again, his throat tightening. “Can I hug you?”

Without a word, her arms wound around his neck, and she stepped in close.

He slipped his around her waist and held her tight, inhaling the faint scent of some sort of perfume that made him think of summertime and the lake’s sandy beach. Her body melded into his as it had a hundred times before, snug and perfect. Soft. She felt so good.

He tightened his arms, as if he might be able to erase everything and somehow transcend time. She nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, and he caught the back of her head in his hand, her silken hair sliding through his fingers. Tipping his chin, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

Amanda.

Like she could hear the silent plea in his heart, she edged away, freeing herself from his embrace. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at his chest. “I better go in. It’s good to see you.”

He couldn’t speak. Could only stare at the large diamond on her hand.

She offered him a tiny smile, and he could have sworn, before she turned around, her eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

As she made her way inside the house, he gazed after her. Behind the lightweight curtains in her front window, her silhouette moved across the room toward the blinking lights on a Christmas tree. A tall, broad-shouldered, masculine figure rose to join her. They embraced, and Josh’s heart twisted.

She could have been his. Should have been. And now, when he hadn’t realized just how much Amanda Henders meant to him until he watched another man hold her, he was too late.





~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

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"Victorians used the term 'limbs' as a euphenism for legs, which were thought to be so sexually exciting to a man, even a glimpse of a table leg could incite him to sexual frenzy. Table skirts were invented to prevent any unnatural unions between men and furniture."
~
(History Channel International)

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