About the Book:
Samantha Hillis, a widow of three years, has just begun to put her life back together when a shooter in the parking lot of the mall destroys dozens of cars and causes multiple injuries. Sam is pulled into the arms of Adam Stapleton, a handsome lieutenant of the Highway Patrol, and she feels for the first time in years what it’s like to be held in a man’s arms. And it’s wonderful.
But Adam has his own set of rules, intended to keep her safe. As a series of double-takes and other events happen that make her doubt her own judgement, she realizes she’s been drawn into a web of suspicion. She’s now the object of a murder investigation, of stalking, and her own home has been broken into and ransacked. The only one she can trust now is Adam.
He paused after taking a sip. “It was time, Sam. I loved her desperately, but I’ve finally arrived at the conclusion she isn’t coming back. They say it takes two years. I’m not sure yet I made the right decision. But there was an opening here, So here I am.”
“With no furniture.” She was grinning now.
He gave her a wink. “That amuses you, doesn’t it? Brat.”
She rose as the washer finished its cycle, and stuck her tongue out. “I can be.”
“Can be a…?”
“A brat. If you want.” She was throwing things into the dryer and looking around for something to add. “Dryer sheets?”
“What’s a dryer sheet?”
She stared. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes. They’re in the cabinet above your head.”
She reached up. And up. She finally got the door open. She could see the box, but couldn’t reach it. Finally, she gave him a withering glance and came over to drag the barstool to it. Climbing on top of it, she opened the cabinet.
“Determined, aren’t you?” he said, frowning. “Sam? I’d really rather you didn’t do that.”
“Well, you don’t seem to be offering to get it.”
“I’m waiting on you to ask. Nicely.”
She turned to face him. But her scowl had increased. “Never mind.” She pulled the box of sheets out and dropped them on top of the dryer with a thud.
As she moved her foot backward, however, it slipped off the stool and she fell—straight into Adam’s embrace. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she found herself cradled in his arms and staring up into his face, inches away.
He stood there, holding her, for several minutes, and she began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Now,” he said finally, in a voice that was not at all amused, “shall we try this again?”
She looked away, nodding.
“Did you ask for my help?”
“You didn’t offer—”
“—Did you ask?”
“But you knew what I needed—”
“Sam? Answer the question.”
She gulped. “No.”
About the Author:
An assignment by my elegant and sweet fifth grade teacher was what started it all. The assignment? To write a short story and read it aloud to the class.
Enter a story about a group of fifth grade kids camping in the woods who were attacked by a Grizzly; add body parts everywhere and kids being mauled to death one by one, and pile on top one horrified teacher (Poor Mrs. J!). The kids thought it was cool, however, and I was hooked.
Writing continued throughout Junior and Senior High, in the form of space stories, then spy stories, and by the time I reached high school, had turned into romances! Every year when spring fever hit, I would take my notebook outside at lunchtime, and soak up the sun, and write. Then I would take it home and type it up on onionskin paper, on an old Underwood typewriter (Yes, I know I'm old!)
One day a few years ago while cleaning, I came upon a tote containing a wad of onionskin paper, rolled up. I was delighted to find a story that I had written when I was about eighteen, and thought, "Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I sat down and re-wrote this? And submitted it?”
My favorite Heroine? One with intelligence, integrity, courage, and firm determination. I love to have the heroine and hero ‘make a difference’ in the surroundings and lives of others in the story. And needless to say, my favorite hero is an "Alpha male" who loves his woman to distraction, but is smart (yes, in my opinion, smart is extremely sexy!) stern, and willing to be as strict as necessary to protect her from danger, even danger from herself.