Libby smiled as she watched him drink from the mug of cocoa she'd prepared for him. It was all so exciting-the renovation, the hope of finding something hidden in the house that no one had ever found before, the fact that the handsome contractor would be in and out of her shop and her life for weeks to come. All of a sudden, Libby felt a surge of rejuvenation course through her limbs, for she loved when life brought unexpected pleasures. And seeing the likes of him every day certainly would be a pleasure.

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?

Poppy Amore loved her job waitressing at Good Ol' Days Family Restaurant. No one could ask for a better working environment. After all, her best friend Whitney worked there, and her boss, restaurant owner Mr. Dexter, was a kind, understanding, grandfatherly sort of man. Furthermore, the job allowed Poppy to linger in the company of Mr. Dexter's grandson Swaggart Moretti-the handsome and charismatic head cook at Good Ol' Days. Secretly, Swaggart was far more to Poppy than just a man who was easy to look at. In truth, she had harbored a secret crush on him for years-since her freshman year in high school, in fact. And although the memory of her feelings-even the lingering truth of them-haunted Poppy the way a veiled, unrequited love always haunts a heart, she had learned to simply find joy in possessing a hidden, anonymous delight in merely being associated with Swaggart. Still, Poppy had begun to wonder if her heart would ever let go of Swaggart Moretti-if any other man in the world could ever turn her head. When the dazzling, uber-fashionable Mark Lawson appeared one night at Good Ol' Days, however, Poppy began to believe that perhaps her attention and her heart would be distracted from Swaggart at last. Mark Lawson was every girl's fantasy-tall, uniquely handsome, financially well-off, and as charming as any prince ever to appear in fairy tales. He was kind, considerate, and, Poppy would find, a true, old-fashioned champion. Thus, Poppy Amore willingly allowed her heart and mind to follow Mark Lawson-to attempt to abandon the past and an unrequited love and begin to move on. But all the world knows that real love is not so easily put off, and Poppy began to wonder if even a man so wonderful as Mark Lawson could truly drive Swaggart Moretti from her heart. Would Poppy Amore miss her one chance at happiness, all for the sake of an unfulfilled adolescent's dream?

As Cricket lay in the soft comfort of her bed, continuing to let her mind nest on thoughts of how truly wonderfully attractive Texas Ranger Thibodaux was, she giggled, thinking that looking at him was more refreshing than swimming naked on a summer Sunday afternoon. He was a tall drink of water-far taller than most of the other men in town-and his shoulders were as broad as the state of Texas itself. Sky-blue eyes, bronze skin, square jaw, and dark hair-and that smile In truth, Cricket had only seen Heathro Thibodaux smile three or four times, but each incidence was something she'd never forget. His smile was bright and white, and the gold tooth he owned on the upper-right incisor of his smile only embellished the richness of it. That one tooth. Cricket's smile faded as she thought of it. Oh, no doubt the flash only added to the splendor of his smile. Yet it also served as a reminder to anyone who had ever read or heard of what had happened in Texas one year before. No doubt it was a powerful remembrance to Heathro Thibodaux himself-a visual indication of true barbarity, pain, and loss. In that moment, Cricket wondered-when Heathro looked in the mirror each morning and saw that tooth, did he think of eight dead girls buried in the bottom of a bleak and barren canyon? Did he think of the eight dead girls that he, for no fault of his own, had been unable to save?

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?

Journey through generations of adventure and romance as three Marcia Lynn McClure favorites blend perfectly in The McCall Trilogy The roundup begins with The Foundling (formerly released as Desert Fire). She opened her eyes and beheld, for the first time, the face of Jackson McCall... Posse up with the next generation of McCall heroes inTo Echo the Past. Stripped of her heart's hopes and dreams, she knew true loneliness-until an ordinary day revealed a heavenly oasis in the desert-Michael McCall... And finally, ride away to dreams come true with a modern-day McCall heroine in An Old-Fashioned Romance. Life went along simply, if not rather monotonously, for Breck McCall. She longed for something-something that seemed to be missing... The McCall Trilogy ...a romantic escape into cowboys, courtship, and kissing the way only Marcia Lynn McClure can deliver

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.

Beloved of her father, King Dacian, and adored by her people, the Scarlet Princess Monet endeavored to serve her kingdom well-for the people of the Kingdom of Karvana were good and worthy of service. Long Monet had known that even her marriage would serve her people. Her husband would be chosen for her, for this was the way of royal existence. Still, as any woman does-peasant or princess-Monet dreamt of owning true love-of owning choice in love. Thus, each time the raven-haired, sapphire-eyed Crimson Knight of Karvana rode near, Monet knew regret-for in secret, she loved him, and she could not choose him. As an arrogant king from another kingdom began to wage war against Karvana, Karvana's king, knights, and soldiers answered the challenge. The Princess Monet would also know battle. As the Crimson Knight battled with armor and blade, so the Scarlet Princess would battle in sacrifice and with secrets held. Thus, when the charge was given to preserve the heart of Karvana, Monet endeavored to serve her kingdom and forget her secreted love. Yet love is not so easily forgotten...

"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...

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...

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?