However, in an instant-in less than a breath or the bat of an eyelid-the elusive pepper spray hiding somewhere in her purse was all but forgotten. For standing before her-right there before her, not three feet away-was the best-looking, most gorgeous, handsomest man she had ever seen in all her life "No, seriously," she thought out loud with lingering bewilderment at how perfectly stunning the man standing before her was, wearing a worn pair of Levi's, dusty cowboy boots, and a short-sleeved, plaid-print, snap-up shirt that hung open, revealing a bronzed, perfectly sculpted torso that was simply a mass of muscles. She was so unsettled by the man's appearance that she wasn't sure whether she was whispering aloud to herself or her car. Either way, the man asked, "Beg your pardon, ma'am?" "Oh...oh, nothing," Fairlee said as she began rummaging in her purse again. But the man's presence and appearance had entirely rattled her. As her awe-inspired brain obviously quit sending out instructions to the rest of her body, Fairlee felt her purse slip from her hands-watched in humiliated dismay as its contents tumbled out and scattered over the shoulder of the road."

Life experience had harshly turned its cruel countenance on the young Fallon Ashby. Her father deceased and her mother suffering with a fatal illness, Fallon was given over to her uncle, Charles Ashby, until she would reach the age of independence. Abused, neglected, and disheartened, Fallon found herself suddenly blessed with unexpected liberation at the hand of the mysterious Trader Donavon. A wealthy landowner and respected denizen of the town, Trader Donavon concealed his feature of face within the shadows of a black cowl. When Fallon's secretive deliverer offered two choices of true escape from her uncle, her captive heart chose its own path. Thus, Fallon married the enormous structure of mortal man-without having seen the horrid secret he hid beneath an ominous hood. But the malicious Charles Ashby, intent on avenging his own losses at Trader Donavon's hand, set out to destroy the husband that Fallon herself held secrets concerning. Would her wicked uncle succeed and perhaps annihilate the man that his niece secretly loved above all else?

Abducted Forcibly taken from her home in New Orleans, Cristabel Albay found herself a prisoner aboard an enemy ship-and soon thereafter, transferred into the vile hands of blood-thirsty pirates War waged between the newly liberated United States and King George. Still, Cristabel would soon discover that British sailors were the very least of her worries-for the pirate captain, Bully Booth, owned no loyalty-no sympathy for those he captured. Yet hope was not entirely lost-for where there was found one crew of pirates-there was ever found another. Though Cristabel Albay would never have dreamed that she may find fortune in being captured by one pirate captain only to be taken by another-she did Bully Booth took no man alive-let no woman live long. But the pirate Navarrone was known for his clemency. Thus, Cristabel's hope in knowing her life's continuance was restored. Nonetheless, as Cristabel's heart began to yearn for the affections of her handsome, beguiling captor-she wondered if Captain Navarrone had only saved her life to execute her poor heart

"The spirit of adventure and curiosity that dwelled within her bosom was passionate with excitement It was obvious there was something wildly interesting inside the gristmill, and Amoretta silently swore to herself she would discover what it was no matter what. She promised herself that nothing short of torture could keep her from seeing what was inside now that her feet were set on the path. "Is it frightening at all?" Calliope asked. "Shh," Blanche kindly scolded. But Winnie whispered, "I suppose it could be considered frightenin'...to some girls." "Is it a ghost?" Calliope asked in a softer whisper. "Oh heavens no " Sallie giggled. "It's ever so much more wonderful than a ghost " "Now everyone hush," Prudence whispered as she began to rather creep toward the back outer wall of the mill. "If they hear us...well...we don't want anyone to hear us is all." Slowly Amoretta and Calliope followed the others to a place where a board hung loosely from the rest of the wooden planks of the outer back wall of the gristmill. Blanche put a finger to her lips to remind everyone to be silent. Winnie smiled as she took hold of Amoretta's shoulders. "Just kneel here in the grass," she whispered. Sallie knelt down in the grass and took Calliope's hand to guide her to follow. Amoretta carefully knelt in the cool grass shaded by mill and trees. Once Prudence and Blanche had knelt down with the others, Prudence pointed to the low, loosely hanging board, indicating that Amoretta and Calliope should look through the open space it presented. Amoretta's heart was pounding like the rapids of some raging river What were they about to witness? Spirits roaming the old mill? Pirates? Outlaws? Her imagination couldn't list possibilities quickly enough. And then, all at once-in the space of a moment and a short gasp-Amoretta Ipswich knew exactly why the young ladies of Meadowlark Lake liked to sneak out to the gristmill and peep through the loose siding board. "Oh my-" Amoretta's exclamation of astonishment was silenced by Winnie's hand quickly covering her mouth.""

Angelina Hunter was seriously minded, and it was a good thing. Her father's ranch needed a woman who could endure the strenuous work of ranch life. Since her mother's death, Angelina had been that woman. She had no time for frivolity-no time for a less severe side of life. Not when there was so much to be done-hired hands to feed, a widower father to care for, and an often ridiculously light-hearted younger sister to worry about. No. Angelina Hunter had no time for the things most young women her age enjoyed. And yet, Angelina had not always been so hardened. There had been a time when she boasted a fun, flirtatious nature even more delightful than her sister Becca's-a time when her imagination soared with adventurous, romantic dreams. But that all ended years before at the hand of one man. Her heart turned to stone...safely becoming void of any emotion save impatience and indifference. Until the day her dreams returned, the day the very maker of her broken heart rode back into her life. As the dust settled from the cattle drive which brought him back, would Angelina's heart be softened? Would she learn to hope again? Would her long-lost dreams become a blessed reality?

Descended of a legendary line of strength and beauty, Saphyre Snow had once known happiness as princess of the Kingdom of Graces. Once a valiant king had ruled in wisdom; once a loving mother had spoken soft words of truth to her daughter. Yet a strange madness had poisoned great minds-a strange fever inviting Lord Death to linger.Soon it was even Lord Death sought to claim Saphyre Snow for his own, and all Saphyre loved seemed lost. Thus, Saphyre fled-forced to leave all familiars for necessity of preserving her life. Alone and without provision, Saphyre knew Lord Death might yet claim her-for how could a princess hope to best the Reaper himself? Still, fate often provides rescue by extraordinary venues, and Saphyre was not delivered into the hands of Death but into the hands of those hiding dark secrets in the depths of bruised and bloodied souls. Saphyre knew a measure of hope and asylum in the company of these battered vagabonds. Even she knew love-a secreted love-a forbidden love. Yet it was love itself-even held secret-that would again summon Lord Death to hunt the princess, Saphyre Snow.

With the sea at its side, the beautiful township of Bostchelan was home to many-including the lovely Coquette de Bellamont, her three sisters, and her beloved father. In Bostchelan, Coquette knew happiness and as much contentment as a young woman whose heart had been broken years before could know. Thus, Coquette dwelt in gladness until the day her father returned from his travels with an astonishing tale to tell. Antoine de Bellamont returned from his travels by way of Roanan bearing a tale of such great adventure to hardly be believed. Further, at the center of Antoine's story loomed a man-the dark Lord of Roanan.Known for his cruel nature, heartlessness, and tendency to violence, the Lord of Roanan had accused Antoine de Bellamont of wrongdoing and demanded recompense. Antoine had promised recompense would be paid-with the hand of his youngest daughter in marriage. Thus, Coquette found herself lost, thrust onto a dark journey of her own. This journey would find her carried away to Roanan Manor-delivered into the hands of the dark and mysterious Lord of Roanan who dominated it.

Autumn gasped as she looked up to see the third cowboy, slumping in his saddle. Blood was streaming from a wound in his left leg and had begun to dry on his chaps. His shirt was soaked with blood at the left shoulder, and more dried blood was matting the hair on his forehead, eyebrows, and cheek. "My apologies, mister," the cowboy mumbled. "Nothin' to apologize for, son," Ransom said. "But you better get on down here so Doc Sullivan can look you over." "Yes, sir," the cowboy said. Then, as he attempted to dismount, the full depth of his weakness from injury and no doubt blood loss was evident as he fell to the ground and groaned. Autumn, owning a character twin to her mother, was not only prone to mischief and clumsiness but also thoroughly steeped with sympathetic compassion and empathy. Thus, instantly and without thinking, she dropped to her knees and moved the poor cowboy's head to rest in her lap. "He needs to breathe, for one thing," she mumbled as her father hunkered down beside her. Tenderly she tugged at the brown bandana covering the man's nose and mouth, gasping when he opened his eyes and looked at her. Autumn Lake's heart skipped a beat-it skipped several beats-as she gazed into the deep blue of the man's eyes... As the cowboy gazed at Autumn a moment more, he smiled and said, "Heaven's got better-lookin' angels than I expected." But it wasn't his fevered mind's words that astonished her. It wasn't even the fact that the man obviously thought he was at death's door, or beyond it. It was the sight of his smile-his broad smile, his unusually white teeth-and more than anything, it was the clefts he bore on each cheek-the bewilderingly attractive dimples the man owned-that left Autumn breathless and staring at him. This wounded cowboy was flabbergastingly handsome He was violently attractive, and Autumn had to inwardly whisper to herself to draw a breath...

"Cozy " her grandma called in a loud whisper. "I'm in the kitchen. Hurry " Cozy frowned, and her heart leapt as worry consumed her for a moment. Yet as she hurried to the kitchen to find her grandma kneeling at the window that faced the new neighbor's yard and peering out with a pair of binoculars, she exhaled a sigh of relief. "Grandma You're still spying on him?" she giggled. "Get down They'll see us. Get down " Dottie ordered in a whisper, waving one hand in a gesture that Cozy should duck. Giggling with amusement at her grandma's latest antics, Cozy dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the window. "Who'll see us?" she asked. "Here," Dottie whispered, pausing only long enough to reach for a second set of binoculars sitting on the nearby counter. "These are for you." She smiled at Cozy and winked as a grin of mischief spread over her face. "And now, may I present the entertainment for this evening-Mr. Buckly 'Hunk of Burning Love' Bryant...and company." "And company?" Cozy asked, accepting the binoculars. Slowly she rose to her knees, peering through the binoculars as she began to adjust them. Mr. Bryant came into focus. He was raking more leaves, but this time he had assistance. Cozy felt her mouth drop open-audibly gasped at the sight of the man helping him. "I know " Dottie whispered. "Va va va voom, right?" "Holy cow " Cozy exclaimed as she adjusted the binoculars further. "Who is that?" "I have no idea," Dottie answered. "But he's something you don't see every day, right?" Cozy watched as the man, much younger than Mr. Bryant, picked up another piece of wood and set it on a chopping stump. The man splitting the wood had discarded his shirt somewhere, providing a perfect view of the sculpted muscles of his back and arms to Cozy and her grandma...

Sayler Christy knew chances were slim to none that any of her silly little daydreams would ever actually come true-especially any daydreams involving Mr. Booker, the new patient (the handsome, older patient) convalescing in her grandfather's rehabilitation center. Yet, working as a candy striper at Rawlings Rehab, Sayler couldn't help but dream of belonging to Mr. Booker-and Mr. Booker stole her heart-perhaps unintentionally-but with very little effort. Gorgeous, older, and entirely unobtainable-Sayler knew Mr. Booker would unknowingly enslave her heart for many years to come-for daydreams were nothing more than a cruel joke inflicted by life. All dreams-daydreams or otherwise-never came true. Did they?

Black Jack Haley and his band of outlaws spent a lot of time in the town of Blue Water. Drinking, gambling and keeping company with saloon girls, even the fact that retired Texas Ranger Arthur Ray lived nearby did nothing to discourage Black Jack and his boys from spending their time and stolen money in the small western town. Still, though the outlaws never harmed any of Blue Water's citizens, Arthur Ray knew men like Black Jack could turn on a dime. An outlaw was an outlaw and not to be trusted. Thus, the once Texas Ranger protected his family as best he could-demanding that his daughter, Cherry, dress as a man and remain as inconspicuous as possible. Though Cherry secretly longed for the feminine attire the other young ladies in Blue Water enjoyed, she understood her father's concerns-and loved him all the more for it. And so, life was fairly uneventful for the people of Blue Water, including Cherry Ray-until the day when a stranger rode into town. Handsome and intimidating, the stranger kept his business to himself. Yet, by the look of the gun at his hip, folks began to wonder if another outlaw had arrived in Blue Water. But that didn't keep Cherry Ray and her curious nature from crossing the stranger's path one too many times...

A chambermaid in the house of Tremeshton, Faris Shayhan well knew torment, despair, and trepidation. To Faris it seemed the future stretched long and desolate before her-as bleak and dark as a lonesome midnight path. Still, the moon oft casts hopeful luminosity to light one's way. So it was that Lady Maranda Rockrimmon cast hope upon Faris-set Faris upon a different path-a path of happiness, serenity, and love. Thus Faris abandoned the tainted air at Tremeshton in favor of the amethyst sunsets of Loch Loland Castle and her new mistress, Lady Rockrimmon. Further, it was on the very night of her emancipation that Faris first met the man of her dreams-the man of every woman's dreams-the rogue Highwayman of Tanglewood. Dressed in black and astride his mighty steed, the brave, heroic, and dashing rogue Highwayman of Tanglewood stole Faris's heart as easily as he stole her kiss. Yet the Highwayman of Tanglewood was encircled in mystery-mystery as thick and as secretive as time itself. Could Faris truly own the heart of a man so thoroughly enveloped in twilight shadows and mysterious secrets?

Genieva Bankmans had willfully agreed to the arrangement. She had given her word, and she would not dishonor it. Yet when she saw for the first time the man whose advertisement she'd answered, she was desperately intimidated. The handsome and powerful Brevan McLean was not what she had expected-he was not the sort of man she had reconciled herself to marrying.This man-the stranger whose name Genieva now bore-was strong-willed, quick-tempered, and expectant of much from his new wife. Brevan McLean did not deny that he had married Genieva for practical reasons only. He merely wanted any woman whose hard work would provide him assistance with the brutal demands of farm life.Still, Genieva would learn there were far darker things, grave secrets held unspoken by Brevan McLean concerning his family and his land. Genieva Bankmans McLean would find herself in the midst of treachery, violence, and villainy-and her estranged husband deeply entangled in it.

Lark Lawrence was alone. In all the world there was no one who cared for her. Still, there were worse things than independence-and Lark had grown quite capable of providing for herself. Nevertheless, as winter loomed, she suddenly found herself with no means by which to afford food and shelter-destitute. Yet, Tom Evans was a kind and compassionate man. When Lark Lawrence appeared on his porch, without pause he hired her to keep house and cook for himself and his cantankerous elder brother, Slater. And although Tom had befriend Lark first, it would be Slater Evans-handsome, brooding and twelve years Lark's senior-who would unknowingly abduct her heart. Still, Lark's true age (which she concealed at first meeting the Evans brothers) was not the only truth she had kept from Slater and Tom Evans. Darker secrets lay imprisoned deep within her heart-and her past. However, it is that secrets are made to be found out-and Lark's secrets revealed would soon couple with the arrival of a woman from Slater's past to forever shatter her dreams of winning his love-or so it seemed. Would truth and passion mingle to capture Lark the love she'd never dared to hope for?