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.
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!”
