For everyone who takes the risk of falling in love.

The Corruption of Mila 

J.F. Jenkins

Mila takes a hands off approach to dating. She's independent and picky and thinks she knows it all. When her best friend decides to set her up on a blind date with a guy who answers to the name of Jax, Mila decides to take a leap of faith. After all, with a name like Jax, how can he not be a dream boat? 

Like most blind dates, however, Jax doesn't meet the expectations that Mila created in her imagination. With how badly she's struck out in her past relationships, is that really such a bad thing?


Available on Amazon



Read the first Chapter...

RELEASE DAY: Catherine Bennett "Devon's Choice"

Blurb:

Life holds no surprises for Devon Murphy. Her life consists of keeping tabs on her aging Irish father, working part time at a coffee shop, and building her online graphics design business. Devon’s only tricky situation is a shallow relationship with the pampered and affluent Michael Turner, who sees her as just another woman to conquer. 

Following his father’s death, Brandon’s only goal is to expand the family business and live life on his own terms. That is, until he walks into the coffee shop one snowy evening and meets the enchanting, red-haired barista behind the counter. But can Devon and Brandon’s attraction for each other be strong enough to help erase their deepest disappointments and renew their faith in God? 

 

 

Author:

Catherine Bennett lives in her hometown of Columbus, Ohio. Her first book, “The Trouble With Charlie”, is published by Astraea Press. Catherine has two grown sons and resides with her husband and two Labrador retrievers.

 

 

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Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

 Devon stood up to her boot tops in snow as she breathed in the crisp, winter air. The first sunrise of the New Year peeked between the houses and spilled onto the street. The sturdy branches of the old maples bowed to the weight of the fresh snow. Parked cars and drawn curtains let her know most of the neighbors must be sleeping in from their late-night revelry. Now the only sound to break the peaceful silence came from the snow plows a few streets over and old Mr. Taylor’s Chihuahua barking ferociously at Bubby from his living room window. A tug on the leash signaled that Bubby had finished his business and was ready to move on.

 “Just a minute, boy. I’ve got to pick up your mess.” Devon bent down and nimbly thrust her hand into the bag while Bubby strained at the end of his lead. “Hold on, my boots don’t have traction control,” she told him as he lunged playfully into the fresh powder. She dumped the bag into the trash and they continued their walk around the small park.

 Devon pulled on the leash. “C’mon, Bub. We’ve got to get home. Daddy’s frying bacon.” Bubby’s ears perked up at the mention of “bacon” and their pace quickened toward the house.

 “Hi Daddy,” Devon said, closing the door behind her. She unsnapped Bubby’s leash, slipped off her boots and parka, and walked into the kitchen. “Happy New Year!” She kissed her father on the cheek and opened the dog food container. Hearing the dry kibble being poured into his bowl, Bubby raced across the room and began to eat.

 “He sure loves his food,” Charles Murphy observed. “Don’t think I could eat the same bland stuff everyday. I guess if I did, I’d lose some of this belly.” He pointed to his small pot of a stomach.

 “Unless you ate only barbeque potato chips and crème-filled sponge cake rolls.”

 “Okay, you got me. Tell you what, I’ll make that my New Year’s resolution. I, Charles Murphy, solemnly promise that starting tomorrow, I will eat only bran flakes and skim milk for breakfast. And I will become a health food nut just like my crazy daughter.”

 Devon raised an eyebrow at him while he piled several strips of bacon onto his plate. A mound of scrambled eggs and overly buttered toast lay next to the bacon strips. His first fib of the New Year; he had no intention of following through with the resolution. She carried her plate of eggs and whole-wheat toast to the table. Charles followed with another plate of greasy hash browns.

 “You’re full of malarkey! You know you can’t give up your pot roasts and pork sausages, which, by the way, are not helping your blood pressure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat fish, unless it was coated and deep fried.”

 “And you never will! Fish is meant to be dunked in batter and fried in as much grease as possible.” Charles sat down at the table and dug his spoon into the potatoes. “That kind of food will put meat on your bones.”

 “I know, I know. You’ve been telling me that since I could chew. And don’t give Bubby any bacon. You’ll make him fat!” The guilty look on Charles’s face let her know he’d already dropped a piece on the floor for the dog.

 “Fat! The way you run that dog in the park, he could qualify for the Kentucky Derby!”

 They laughed, then ate in companionable silence. Devon glanced over at her father. His white hair showed no yellow tinge as happens to some seniors; it was white as a new, starched napkin. His bushy eyebrows matched and caused his cobalt blue eyes to sparkle even more. Though not a tall man, his personality made him seem larger than life. He always flirted with words and could make people laugh, no matter how depressing the circumstances might be. And for not being born in Ireland, he exuded his Irish heritage in every way, especially in his stubbornness.

 Fifteen minutes later, Charles leaned back in his chair. “Now that was one of the best meals I ever ate!”

RELEASE DAY: Heather Gray "Queen"

Blurb:

You can't hide from the past.

Queen's world was shattered, and she was banished to a foreign land. Years pass before she dares to return, but what she finds is of little comfort. Greed and dishonesty have festered and grown in her absence. Embittered and cynical, Queen trusts few people.

Owen pursues a clandestine investigation and finds himself working side-by-side with a veritable ghost, an agent few have seen, a master of disguise known simply as Queen.  He craves her trust…but then uncovers a secret from his family's past that could destroy her.

Queen once sought refuge in America and now seeks it in disguise. Owen has always found his refuge in God, but will his faith be strong enough for the challenges ahead? Can he convince her to stop hiding, or is he doomed to become her most hated enemy?

 

Author:

Heather Gray authors the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including Mail Order Man, Just Dessert, and Redemption.  She also writes the Regency Refuge series: His Saving Grace, Jackal, and Queen - plus contemporary titles Ten Million Reasons and Nowhere for Christmas.  Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and family.  She also enjoys laughter.  This theme is prevalent in Heather's writing where, through the highs and lows, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

You can find Heather online at http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting, http://www.twitter.com/laughdreamwrite, and http://www.heathergraywriting.com.  She can also be found most days at The Inspired Inkpot, a street team, prayer group, and all around awesome place to hang out - http://www.facebook.com/groups/theinspiredinkpot.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Prologue

Christmas Eve 1817

Owen crouched low and looked around him. At least four hale and strong men had given chase. He was nursing a bullet wound to his side and a knee expressing reluctance to cooperate.

The alley's darkness provided the illusion of safety. He might yet get out of this alive, if the clouds cooperated and kept the moon concealed.

Leather scraped on cobblestones to his right, and he pivoted, knife at the ready. An old man stumbled down the alley. His stringy grey hair was greasy and his coarse woven clothes tattered. He reeked of liquor, vomit, and… Owen wrinkled his nose as he fought the urge to gag.

The ruffians who'd been chasing him must have heard the old man, too. Or, worse, they'd heard Owen. They stopped their pursuit down the street and began backtracking to the mouth of the alley.

Drat. Owen slipped back behind some crates. He wanted to call a warning to the old beggar but couldn't risk giving away his position. Instead, he tucked his body as tightly together as his wounds would allow while he prayed.

"Did you hear that?"

"Someone's down there."

"Who's there?"

The old man shuffled his way, with a dragging hitch to his step, toward the street.

Come on, old man. Get out of the way. They're not looking for you!

"Never mind. It's a drunkard. Let's keep searching."

From his vantage point, Owen watched as one of the thugs shoved the beggar down onto the ground and then kicked him full in the ribs. He winced in sympathetic pain but dared not leave his hiding place yet. To reveal himself at this juncture would ensure a far worse outcome for both him and the old man.

The echo of footsteps faded and silence once again fell over the alley, broken only by the yowling of a tom cat. A few minutes ticked by with no indication the group would return. Owen eased himself out from his position, relieved to no longer be wedged between a slimy moss-covered wall and the dilapidated, rotting crates. Pain radiated up and down his side from where he'd been shot, and his knee burned with each step.

The old man hadn't moved since landing on the cobblestones. Stooping, Owen glanced at the man's hair-covered face. Age was kinder to some than to others. Between the faded moonlight and the excessive facial hair, Owen couldn't distinguish any features beyond the large bulbous nose. The poor gent could have used a little more kindness.

A slight movement of the chest caught Owen's eye, and he sighed with relief. Now to figure out how to move him…

The old man was bulky, and Owen was wounded. Could he rouse him? Would he be able to walk? Owen shook the man by the shoulders. His efforts elicited nothing but a high-pitched groan. Seeing no hope for it, he pulled the man over his shoulder and stood, keeping most of his weight on his uninjured knee.

No longer radiating, the pain in his side now pulsed with each beat of his heart, its intensity growing with his exertion. Getting the old man settled across his shoulder as best he could, Owen took a step toward the street. Dizziness swept through him, and he knew his knee was in worse shape than he wanted to admit. Three blocks would still be manageable. Wouldn't it? A back room in the apothecary's shop housed a clandestine meeting place for agents.

The apothecary was barely three blocks away…

Blast it, what had he been thinking?

RELEASE DAY: Dana R. Lynn "An Inconvenient Courtship"

 

Blurb:

Mr. Darcy is determined to find a wife he can love and respect.  He is fascinated by the lively Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but is determined to forget her due to her low connections.  Until an act of jealously puts her life at risk.  Faced with the bleak reality of living without her forever, Mr. Darcy must examine what he really wants.   With the assistance of Colonel Fitzwilliam, his sister, and Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Darcy works to save Elizabeth’s life.  If he is lucky, he will then be able to win her heart.

 

Author:

Dana R. Lynn grew up near Chicago, but now lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband, three children, and enough animals to fill a small petting zoo.  She is an avid reader, and enjoys a wide variety of genres and authors, although her favorite will always be Jane Austen.  She loves writing inspirational stories, both contemporary and regency.

 

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

What was the matter with him?

Darcy scowled as he paced back and forth across the length of the library. He could barely believe his actions of the past few days. To allow his control to slip so badly! And all because of a mere country girl, who was far beneath him. No money, no connections, and that family of hers!

But in spite of these objections, Darcy continued to find Miss Elizabeth Bennet everything that was fascinating and lovely. Not that he had always thought so. No, indeed. When he had first spied her several weeks ago at a dance, he had barely noticed her. His mood had been too dark. He even allowed himself to make a disparaging remark about her to his persistent best friend, Charles Bingley. He had come to Hertfordshire to help Bingley get his new estate in order, not to socialize with the local beauties. Yet, he found his interest in Miss Elizabeth growing with every meeting. Still, he was able to squelch this unseemly fascination with the second of the five Bennet sisters. Or so he had thought. Then, several days ago, the eldest Bennet sister, Miss Jane Bennet, had become ill while visiting Bingley’s sisters. Of course, she had to stay as their guest until she was healthy enough for travel.

Although Darcy thought of Bingley as a brother, he didn’t much care for Bingley’s sisters. Miss Caroline Bingley had travelled to Hertfordshire to act as Mr. Bingley’s hostess, for it was one of the unwritten rules of the gentry that a single man could not entertain guests at his house without a hostess. Darcy would have been fine with Miss Bingley if she would leave him alone. But Miss Bingley had decided she wanted to marry Darcy. For his estate, no doubt. She was constantly batting her eyes and complimenting him. Louisa Hurst, Bingley’s married sister, was slightly better. Still a snob, but less obvious about it. She had dragged her husband to Hertfordshire so she could keep Miss Bingley company.

Darcy chuckled as he remembered the expressions on the faces of Bingley’s sisters when Miss Elizabeth had been shown into the breakfast room the next day.  They were appalled to learn she had walked three miles to visit her sister. Three muddy miles, judging by the state of her skirt. Darcy admitted that he had enjoyed the past few days in her presence. She was unlike any woman he had ever known. Her conversation was witty and clever, and her playful manner challenged him. She paid him none of the compliments he was used to receiving from young women desiring his attentions. He had even allowed himself to forget his objections against her. Until her mother and younger sisters paid a visit, that is.

Darcy grimaced as he thought of Mrs. Bennet and her three youngest daughters. Their behavior was thoroughly shocking. It was the first time he could ever recall being in accord with Miss Bingley. She had openly disparaged the family to her brother, trying to point out the disadvantages of the connection. Bingley, however, stood firm in his defense of Miss Bennet, whom he declared an angel. But even Bingley could not defend Mrs. Bennet. He remembered Mrs. Bennet’s taunts as she and her youngest daughters visited Netherfield Park under the guise of checking on “Dear Jane”. She had apparently decided that Darcy was the enemy and aimed poorly veiled barbs his way throughout the visit.

Miss Elizabeth, however, had tried to defend him, her cheeks scarlet with mortification. Darcy came to a stop as he remembered the agonized, apologetic glance she had shot him with her spectacular eyes. Those gorgeous, sparkling hazel eyes with dark lashes made for flirting…

Flirting? Good heavens. What was wrong with him? Darcy strode to the window and stared out, not seeing the breathtaking view as dawn softly crept over the landscape. Instead of the trees and the vast array of flora, his mind was wholly absorbed with a beautiful face, its eyebrows arched provocatively as she teased him.

Today she would be leaving, going home where she belonged. He should be grateful. He could put distance between them. Then he would be able to regain his control and focus on more appropriate things. Even as he told himself he would forget her and move on, he felt a strange ache inside his breast at the thought of never seeing Miss Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes again.

RELEASE DAY: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy "Gray's Good Samaritan"

Blurb:

On an ordinary Saturday morning, Robin Cavanaugh’s life takes a wild turn.  A wounded man leaps into her car at a traffic light.  He refuses to go to the hospital and after he reveals his real name, she realizes she knows him from church.  When he swears he’s one of the good guys, Robin abandons common sense to help him.  As his condition worsens, she soon learns he’s not really Spike Mc Gee, a criminal but an undercover agent whose life is in danger.  His brother, Jack, a doctor, pulls Gray through and soon, Robin is part of the action too.  Their love grows under the unlikely conditions and when Gray heads home to visit his mother, Robin comes too.  While there, Gray proposes and she accepts but a family tragedy brings them back to Tulsa.  Everything hangs in the balance as Gray goes undercover as Spike on last time…if he survives, they can find their happily ever after.

 

Author:

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is a native of historic St. Joseph, Missouri and now makes her home in the beautiful Ozark Mountains.  As a wife and mother to three children, she spends her days penning her stories, substitute teaching, gardening, cooking, and all the other daily duties.  She has a BA degree in English and History from Missouri Southern State University and an AA degree from Crowder College.  She has worked in broadcasting, education, and retail. Lee Ann is a member of Romance Writers of America, Missouri Writers Guild, and the Ozark Writers League.  Her multiple works include full length nov-els, novellas, and short stories.  Lee Ann has also contributed to more than two dozen an-thologies including the popular Chicken Soup For The Soul series.  She writes a weekly col-umn for the local newspaper and writes several romance genres and subgenres.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

On a morning as ordinary as faded blue jeans, no different from dozens of other Saturdays, everything changed. As she slowed for a traffic signal behind a long string of vehicles, Robin spotted the man. Whoever he was, he ran at furious speed, racing across the open spaces between the electric substations as if his life might be in peril. Robin couldn’t imagine anything else powerful enough to inspire anyone to run so fast, so hard. Curious, she kept an eye on him to see where he went as she came to a stop at the highway interchange. Already ten minutes late for her hair appointment, midway through her weekly errands, she craned her head backward and over the dirty laundry stacked in the back seat. Just as the light went green, the runner changed course. His diagonal path would take him in front of her car so she hesitated, a car length behind the other vehicles, afraid she might hit him. At the last moment, he veered, switched course, and snatched open the passenger door. He climbed inside before she could scream or protest and spat out two words: “Hit it!”

Robin froze, uncertain what to do until the truck behind her blared its horn. After a brief hesitation, she drove forward, heart beating with a rock-and-roll rhythm. Every bone in her law-abiding body screamed to stop. Her passenger’s face shimmered with perspiration and his eyes glittered with pain. Although he had been running hard, he gasped for breath as if he had been hurt. When she sneaked a closer glance, she noticed blood dripping in staccato rhythm from beneath his leather jacket. “Hey, you’re hurt,” she said, shocked. In her comfortable world, people didn’t run or bleed from anything but a minor mishap. “What happened?”

“I got shot,” he said. Each word required a harsh-drawn breath. “Just drive, okay?”

“Shot?” she echoed. Maybe she had heard him wrong. “You were shot?”

He shot her a look from half-closed eyes and she noticed how pale he had become. “Yeah.”

Robin clamped her fingers tighter around the steering wheel as she stiffened. Whatever trouble he’d found, it wasn’t hers but she couldn’t abandon him on the side of the road either. She made a sudden, swift decision.

“I can take you to the hospital,” she said. “I’m sorry, but that’s it. Just hang on and we’ll get there as soon as I figure out if we’re closer to Hillcrest, OSU, or St. Francis.”

He’d closed his eyes, shuttered tight against the pain, but at her suggestion, he opened them and glared at her. “No hospital,” he choked. “Can’t. They report gunshot wounds.”

Disbelief cut through her anxiety so that she spoke without thinking. “Are you telling me you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?” He needed immediate medical attention. Those drops of blood she had noticed had become a stream flowing down the seat and puddling onto the floorboard. “You need to get help — you’re bleeding all over the place.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “I know, but I can’t go to the hospital. The law requires them to report any gunshot wounds. If they do, I’m a dead man. Can you drive any faster? I don’t think they saw what car I got into but they might have. If so, we’re both in trouble.”

He appeared about to collapse but he’d managed to speak up. And what he said scared her. “Who might’ve seen you?” Robin asked, afraid to hear the answer. The way he had been running, she figured it must have been the police, drug dealers, a gang, or maybe organized crime.

Her passenger slumped down in the seat. “I think maybe the cops did.”

Robin almost slammed on the brakes and her attention strayed from the road. She faced him and got a good look for the first time. He wore black leather pants, a leather jacket, and a black T-shirt. On his hands, he wore leather half-gloves and studded bracelets encircled both wrists. Although his hair was close-cropped in front, he had let it grow out in back. After his crazy run, his hair had wilted but she would bet he had had it spiked with gel before. Robin couldn’t determine if his style screamed biker, punk, Goth, or gang, but whatever his fashion statement might be, it stretched far outside her comfort zone. He had to be a criminal and she struggled to stay calm. Who knew what he might do if she provoked him?

RELEASE DAY: Maria Ann Green "In The Rearview"

Blurb:

When Meagan’s secret is found out, and she realizes there is no way to outrun her habit of cutting, she tries to work through it, and her depression, before she cuts too deep, making a mistake that can never be undone.

Meagan is introduced as a typical adolescent who struggles throughout her teen years. Though she has problems, like any other teenager, hers are worse. They've pulled her down into the depths of a depression that is anything but normal.

She begins her pattern of self-harm as her depression threatens to drown her. She starts with one cut following a discovery of the behavior from another friend. After starting it is apparent that there's no stopping, and Meagan spirals into a dark and cruel world she doesn't understand. Meagan cuts to feel better, but that comfort doesn't last long enough, and soon life is worse than it ever was before.

While learning to quit cutting Meagan faces life-altering obstacles and grows up in the process.

 

IN THE REARVIEW is a story of pain, loss, confusion, and hope told through Meagan’s poems, journal entries, and a splash of narrative.

 

 

Author:

Maria Green currently lives in Minnesota, despite its bitter winters, with her husband. She graduated with a degree in Psychology and a minor in English. When she isn’t writing, Maria loves to read with a cup of strong coffee or a glass of sweet wine, craft, and spend time with her family. This is her first published novel.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

This is me

 

As her chin dipped down, and she noticed the soft raised skin, her heart skipped a beat. Meagan hated that an accidental glimpse still shot anxiety through her like knives. Her stomach could drop to her feet while her heart raced, all from just seeing a part of herself. It was a stupid reaction Meagan didn’t often have, but when she was already nervous about judgment it was inevitable.

She hoped against hope it wouldn’t always be that way.

Meagan was strong, she wasn’t a kid anymore, and she loved herself. It was stupid to feel such turmoil over something that was so far in the past. And it was truly overcome. But the visual, the tangible marker she could touch, the fact that her skin was marked and different forever, that’s what sent her nerves into overdrive every once in a while.

Even after all this time, it could still catch her off guard. After everything, as much as it represented her strength, it also represented the wastelands of hurt she had waded through; she tried to remember that some badges of honor weren't pretty. And hers were small enough. But just like her past, they would never go away. Life didn’t have rewind or pause buttons. There weren’t real un-dos or re-dos. Life only had the present, the here and now, and it only had a play button.

She wished so often the tiny pink reminders were easier to hide. Though they didn’t stand out too much, their placement was inconvenient. If she could take them off, she would consider it, because she always had her memories and the lessons she'd learned. There were little pink reminders inside her head as well. Those could never be removed. The rest, even if they were badges of honor, weren’t as necessary anymore.

She would always remember.

It sounded shaming, to want to hide them, but that wasn’t Meagan’s intention. She wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed of who she was, but others still questioned or judged when they noticed a scar. They pried and probed about personal experiences that weren’t any of their business to be nosey about. Then they went quiet after she answered. That was the worst. Eyes averted and the subject always changed, but not until a pregnant pause passed between them first.

She absolutely despised awkward silences that followed a forced explanation.

That’s not how Meagan liked to open up.

Because that’s what it was to tell people about what had happened. It was opening herself up for examination. She had to be vulnerable and share history that wasn’t always easy to talk about when she was honest about her scars. Trust was needed in order to be comfortable in giving parts of herself away like that. Otherwise it felt wrong. But when Meagan was the one to choose on her own to share with individuals she cared about, it was only when she deemed both parties ready. It was always better if everyone was ready.

She just preferred to give the information instead of have it pulled from her. That wasn’t too tough a concept.

Because sometimes when it was demanded or requested of her before she was ready, somehow Meagan felt violated. She loved herself, she was proud of who she was despite what she’d faced, so she never lied about how she got her scars. Even if she was unprepared and surprised by the questioning, or reluctant to answer, she always told the truth. But it felt like betraying herself, violating her own security, when she gave out the information before she was ready.

RELEASE DAY: Susan Rush "Just Over the Horizon"

Blurb:

While grieving the death of her eccentric nana, Sarah discovers an unexpected gift. She soon grows dependent on the heirloom, a little box, for comfort and guidance. Feeling restless and needing a change, Sarah accepts a job as a traveling hospice nurse and ends up in the quaint, historical town of Camden, South Carolina. Although she loves caring for her patients, loneliness creeps in and threatens to take root. Eventually she opens herself to new friendships, and two remarkable yet vastly differing men compete for her attention. Nate is a true Southerner with a sarcastic wit and genuine warmth, while Dr. Joseph Thornton is a caring oncologist who is known as the best catch in the state.

     Facing heart-wrenching trials, the faith of her childhood is all but shattered. In spite of this, Sarah seeks comfort from her box and is determined to cling to Nana’s godly legacy. But when a mysterious stranger appears with devastating news, can her cherished box continue to provide answers or will Sarah realize her life has been based on nothing but lies?

 

Author:

Susan grew up in Charlotte, NC and has a psychology degree from Furman University and a masters in social work from the University of South Carolina. She jokes that God didn't lead her to a career in hospice; He took her kicking and screaming the whole way. Now passionate about end-of-life care, she is a hospice director. She lives in Columbia, SC with her husband and three phenomenal children.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Sarah gripped the steering wheel as she leaned forward, straining to see out the windshield. Steady, rhythmic rain pelted down, making it impossible to concentrate. She hated being late more than she hated her allergy to cats. She’d have to slow down if she was going to make sense of the scribbled directions. Why did people live in places unknown to GPSs? She shook her head as her patience wore thin. How many soybean fields can South Carolina possibly have? She looked at her watch and grew more agitated. She was scheduled to admit a patient in Rembert at four-thirty. It was already four-thirty-five.

It had been a long time since she’d driven through the country. On a clear day she would have enjoyed the rural setting with vast farmlands occasionally interrupted by a rolling pasture sprinkled with dairy cattle. But not today; her supervisor hadn’t even given her time to unpack before rushing her out to see a new patient.

Sarah sighed in relief when she spotted the narrow road hidden between a pair of weeping willows. Their gloomy branches spilled over the drive like long, arthritic fingers. Sarah turned her fuel-efficient coup in and came to a rolling stop. Why had she not invested in a four-wheel drive?

Staring down the deserted road, she imagined that on a sunny day it would be picturesque with the stately oak trees and towering pines framing the passage. But as clouds hovered lower and the skies grew more ominous, Sarah shivered and willed her heart to slow down.

Determined to reach her destination, she forged ahead only to discover the country road quickly became a gravel drive. Within a few hundred yards the gravel disappeared, and before she realized it, it was merely a clay pathway. Sarah hesitated, wondering if she should push forward or give up and turn around.

As she prayed about what to do, the skies opened and released sheets of rain. The windshield became a gray wall. She didn’t have a choice; she had to stop and wait out the storm.

A chill ran up her spine as lightning bolts flashed across the sky. A traveling hospice nurse? What was I thinking? Out in the boonies… no cell phone coverage, nobody to ask directions. I was an idiot to take this job. What was I thinking? Sarah’s self-reprimand was interrupted by a loud boom of thunder that shook the car.

She looked in her rearview mirror and was horrified to see a muddy creek running down the middle of the dirt drive. Her car began inching sideways. She locked her brakes but the car continued to slide. This is not good, so not good. Just as she started to panic, it eased into the bank and found a solid resting place.

I am not going to have a meltdown. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the steering wheel and emphatically declared, “I refuse to have a meltdown.” As Sarah consciously slowed her breathing, she leaned her head back on the headrest and let her mind drift to Nana, her amazingly eccentric grandmother who always knew just how to comfort her, how to quiet her nerves.

Sarah turned and climbed into the backseat. She ripped the tape off of a moving box, reached in, pulled out several items and tossed them aside. Sarah was searching for one special treasure. When she finally found it, she smiled in relief and placed it on her lap. Simply having it near comforted her.

Wiping condensation from the window, Sarah looked out at the angry storm. Gusts of wind ravaged the trees, thrusting twigs and leaves onto the car. She caressed the top of the box as her eyes filled with tears. Lovingly, she traced the little painted strawberries on the box with her finger. Calm gradually settled, and a sense of nostalgia consumed her as she peeked under the lid.

Just as she reached in to retrieve the sacred contents, the rain eased off and became a light drizzle. Looking at her watch, she realized she was already thirty minutes late for the hospice admission. Sarah inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and then closed the top of her heirloom.

RELEASE DAY: Heather Gray "Jackal"

 

Blurb

Hiding in the shadows just got harder.

When tragedy strikes, Juliana and her family must flee their home. Can they persuade a virtual stranger to help them? Juliana isn't so sure, especially after their chaperone threatens to cane him. Even as Juliana struggles to trust him, she finds herself drawn to this mysterious man. Surely all she wants from him is refuge…
Rupert is a man whose life depends on his ability to remain unnoticed. What, then, is he supposed to do with this family he's inherited?  His life is overrun with an ancient chaperone who would terrify a lesser man, two spirited girls, and the secretive Juliana – someone he comes to think of as his own precious jewel.
With this new responsibility thrust upon him, Rupert will have to make sacrifices – but will God ask him to sacrifice everything?

 

About the Author:
Heather Gray is the author of the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including Mail Order Man, Just Dessert, and Redemption.  Other titles include Ten Million Reasons, His Saving Grace, and Nowhere for Christmas – everything from Regency England to modern-day America.  Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and her family.  Years ago, Heather decided she'd rather laugh than yell.  This theme is evident in her writing where, through the highs and lows of life, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

 

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Excerpt:

Prologue

1810

            A duke had been cut down in the prime of his life. According to the War Department, The Hunter was to blame.

Jackal had been put onto The Hunter's scent and told to ferret him out at all cost. It was his job, his duty to the crown, and he treated it with the seriousness it demanded. Evil could not be allowed to go unpunished, and people who took pleasure in destroying the lives of others would not walk away with impunity, not on his watch.

Jackal met with his contacts in the Austrian government and found no gratification in revealing they had a traitor in their midst. It had been a necessary move, and now the problem would be dealt with. The Austrians would put The Hunter down, and England's hands would remain clean of the mess, exactly as the minister wanted.

Grim foreboding furrowed his brow as he left the meeting with the Austrians. His lack of evidence mocked him. He'd done as ordered, and they'd believed him, but had it been his choice, he'd have gathered more proof first.

Jackal climbed into his carriage and slapped his hand against the roof, signaling the driver with his readiness to depart. A lengthy ride awaited him. He would leave the carriage and his current identity behind in Munich once he arrived there. New papers and fresh horses were waiting for him. The same would happen again when he crossed over into Stuttgart, and then again in Brussels. His task was clear: remain alive long enough to claim each of the new identities and return safely to his homeland.

Sitting back on the roughly cushioned seat, he accepted what he'd begun to suspect. This would be his last assignment for the crown. He was getting too old for the job. The time to retire was upon him. The younger bucks were willing – if not entirely ready – to take their place among the ranks of the unseen, unknown, and unnamed heroes of war. Jackal shook his head. Not too long ago, he'd been one of those young bucks. Ready for retirement at age thirty-two? The thought would be laughable in any other career. In his line of work, though, only those who retired young lived to be old and grey.

Lost in melancholy, Jackal barely noted the change from the raucous noise of a bustling merchant district to the quiet pastoral sounds that would accompany him on most of this journey. Europe was a large land with rich cities interspersed with vast emptiness dotted with small hamlets. Traveling by carriage would take weeks, but as long as he could report back that he'd done as ordered, it would be worth the time.

He settled into his seat. They were still days from their first sanctioned stop. As always, the best defense was to keep moving.

 

****

 A change in the carriage's soothing methodical movement woke Jackal from his doze and alerted him that something was amiss. Awareness coursed through his veins, pushing away the remnant of sleep. A quick glance at the curtained window told him it was late morning. They'd ridden through the night to put as much distance as possible between them and Vienna – the current hub of Austrian government.

The carriage was moving with a wildness he'd felt only one other time in his life. Dread snaked through his middle as he accepted the truth. There was no longer a driver in control of his conveyance. Jackal crouched low on the floor for balance as he prepared to throw open the door and jump. Perhaps he should have sought retirement one assignment sooner.

Before his hand could touch the door, a jarring force threw Jackal against the seat to his left, shooting pain up his arm. They'd been boarded, then, and his driver – an agent he'd worked with for years – had likely not been alive to sound the alarm. Emotion would come later. For now, Jackal needed to focus on one thing: Survival.