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50 matches in All Departments
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?
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.
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?
"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.""
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.
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...
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?
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