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?

She was tired-oh so very, very tired. Never-not in all her life-had Evony Elorietta known such thoroughgoing fatigue. As she trudged out of the dark woods still veiled in the shadows of early sunrise, out across the expanse of cold, dew-drenched grass and onto the main road of the village, Evony wondered how she would ever endure a day that was only just beginning. Every bone in her body ached-every muscle throbbed in misery, every inch of her flesh begged for respite. Yet there would be none-at least not until she had finished her stitching-finished the near thirteen hours of sewing she now faced under the ever observant, incessantly critical eye of seamstress Agnes Teche. After such a long, chilled, and sleepless night spent in watching-peering through the darkness and into the rooms of the inn in the woods, until her eyes were too dry to watch any longer-after listening to the shallow, often vile conversations, until her ears hurt from the foul ferment of it-Evony dreaded sewing for Mrs. Teche more than ever before. The woman was a banshee of an employer. And yet, she was grateful Mrs. Teche had had the keen eye to recognize Evony's superior skills with needle and thread-for how else would Evony have managed to feed Mikol and Tressa-to shelter them-to keep them hidden?

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.

Life went along simply, if not rather monotonously, for Breck McCall. Her job was satisfying, and she had true friends. But she felt empty-as if part of her soul were detached and lost to her. She longed for something-something that seemed to be missing. Yet there were moments when Breck felt she might almost touch something wonderful. And most of those moments came while in the presence of her handsome yet seemingly haunted boss-Reese Thatcher.

"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...

She opened her eyes and beheld, for the first time, the face of Jackson McCall. Ruggedly handsome and her noble rescuer, he would, she knew in that moment, forever hold captive her heart as he then held her life in his protective arms. Yet she was a nameless beauty, haunted by wisps of visions of the past. How could she ever hope he would return the passionate, devotional love she secreted for him when her very existence was a riddle? Would Jackson McCall (handsome, fascinating, brooding) ever see her as anything more than a foundling-a burden to himself and his family? And with no memory of her own identity, how then could she release him from his apparent affliction of being her protector?

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...

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?

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."