LLLB Sneak Peek - What Mother Never Told Me by Donna Hill

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What Mother Never Told Me by Donna Hill Excerpt

Her dead mother was alive.

Yet, days after learning the unthinkable, Parris McKay was still unable to reconcile the truth with the lie she'd been nursed and nurtured on for three decades. The enormity of it echoed throughout the cool stillness of the one-room church.

Her emotions shifted between disbelief and anger, anguish and shock, to despair and back again. So she'd come here to the one place where she'd always found answers, balance and a quieting of her spirit.

But even here, the solace she sought was unattainable, a vapor that could be seen but not touched. The letter she held between her slender fingers was yellowed with age and had been freed with the others from their hiding place behind her Nana's stove, its wizened face crisscrossed by the fine lines of an unfamiliar hand, cracked under the onslaught of air and light.

Parris held the letter like one unfamiliar with a newborn—cautious, fearful, yet in awe of its mysteries. There were answers here, etched between the lines that she struggled to see. She knew it, could feel it. She knew if she just looked hard enough she would know why.

The words, though not addressed to her, connected her to the woman she'd only imagined. The woman that was buried on European shores after giving birth to her—or so she'd been told. Told so many times that she believed it, became part of the lie. She believed her Nana when she sat her down on her knee, looked her deep in the eyes and said, "Your mama loved you so much, gal, wanted you to have a little piece of somethin' so bad that she begged those fancy doctors to save her baby no matter what. Yessir, that's what she done for ya, 'cause she loved ya. Even fo' you got here."

Imagine being loved like that, so hard and so strong even before you took your first breath. The thought of it filled all the empty spaces that the void of not having her mother left in her life.

And that's the lie she told her friends when they asked where her mother was and why she lived with her grandmother. She told her truth. The only one she knew. Now what she knew was no more. The ache of it settled in her bones, squeezed her heart and stripped her throat raw.

What was she to do?

She bowed her head as the long shadow of the cross fell across her lap, deepened as the sun shifted and prepared to settle down for the night. She'd lost track of how long she'd sat on the worn wooden pew, its hardness softened and curved by hips and thighs that heaved, sighed and caressed it throughout the years.

Her green eyes, butterfly quick, flitted from one space to the next as a montage of images gathered around her. How many times had she walked the aisle as a child, a teen, a woman? How many sermons had she heard, christenings and marriages had she attended? How many songs had she sung in the choir? How many times had she looked out on the congregation to see her Nana Cora and Grandpa David watching her with pride? So many.

But how could any of this—all the things that she knew—be concrete when she was no more than an illusion? And if she was no longer real then nothing in her life could be, either. With familiarity now a stranger, she had no choice but to create a new reality. And if not here, then where?

She'd come back, back to her home of Rudell, Mississippi, to be witness to her grandmother Cora's transition. The woman who raised her, loved her, taught her right from wrong, gave her the gift of music…lied to her. Lied. The word burned in her throat, stirring and simmering into something bigger than herself, erupting into an emotion that was so unfamiliar—rage. Parris raged at Cora, raged at her for keeping the secret and nearly taking it with her to her grave.

Cora confessed on her waning breath that Emma, her mother, was alive, was living in Europe, that she'd turned her infant daughter over to Cora only days after her birth and never returned. The only connection Cora had with her daughter through the years was the intermittent letters that filled the tin box behind the stove.

Cora turned the letters over to Parris in the final hours before her passing. They revealed so much and nothing at all. Handwriting style, frequency, location, inquiries about the child she'd abandoned. Yet none of the letters collected for almost thirty years explained why.

Why was Parris unworthy of her mother's love? Why did Emma give her away and never come back? Why was Parris told that her mother was dead? And why did the woman whom she'd idolized all her life keep the answers and take them with her?

Parris jerked around, startled by the noise behind her. Her gaze settled—along with her heartbeat—when she saw her grandfather crossing the threshold. She brushed the tears from her eyes only for them to be followed by more.

David swept his hat from his head and walked reverently down the aisle. She made room for him next to her.

"Been wondering where you been for so long," he said in that cottony comfort voice that had cocooned her to sleep on many an occasion.

Parris sighed and rested her head on his shoulder of welcome. Her granddad had been the only doctor in Rudell for decades. It wasn't until about five years ago that another doctor set out her shingle. But it had taken many a dinner conversation, trips to the Left Hand River and loud debates in front of the general store for the townspeople of Rudell to come to terms with a new doctor—especially a woman. Things may have changed in the rest of the world but Rudell, Mississippi, was no different than it had been in the early 1900s, when her great grandfather Joshua Harvey was the preacher at this very church.

"Nana wanted me to go find my mother."

She could feel David's head bob up and down. "And what do you plan to do?"

"It's what I've been sitting here thinking about." She angled her head to take in his strong profile. "I don't want to leave you, Granddad. What are you going to do out here…alone?"

He lifted his square chin just a notch. Not enough for someone who didn't know him to even notice. But Parris knew her grandfather. That tiny tic meant he'd made up his mind and no amount of persuasion was going to change it.

"I'll be just fine. This is my home. I stay here…and I can stay close to Cora." His full lips pinched. "That young man of yours is up at the house, packin' looks like."

The dry muscles of her throat that were struggling for moisture tightened even more.

"Can't sit here crying forever. Not what Cora would have wanted. She'd want you to get on with your life."

"What life!" Her voice splintered the quiet of the church, cracking under the pressure of a question she couldn't answer. She turned swollen, tear-filled eyes on him.

"The life you had, the life you gonna make. You have everything you need. It's up to you to decide what you gon' do with it." He paused a beat. "I been listenin' to you since you been back, humming a little, singing a bit. God and your grandma gave you a gift—the voice of an angel. Now you kin head on back to New York. Ain't nobody gonna fault you none. But when you stand up and sing in front of folks, those notes won't ring true. Every one of them is gonna have an empty hole in it." He rubbed his jaw with a large, dark hand that had the power to heal. "Or you can go find your mama. Hear her tell you what you need to hear. When you do that the hole in those notes and that space in your heart will be filled."

He kissed the top of her head. "Up to you. Whatever you decide you best hurry 'fore that boy leaves without a goodbye." He pushed up from his seat, wincing a little from the nag in his right hip. He made a mental note to ask Cora to rub some liniment on it. He squeezed his hat. The tiniest groan of pain pushed up from his gut, sputtered across his lips. He remembered. His Cora was gone. He blinked away the burn in his eyes with each step he took toward the door. Nearly half a century of loving one woman. He had no idea how he was going to make it. No idea at all.

Parris heard the church door squeak shut. Her slender body shuddered as a wave of sorrow rolled through her. Granddad was right. She couldn't sit there forever. She needed to talk with Nick. Figure something out—about everything, including them.

She gathered the lightweight baby blue shawl that she'd brought along with her, gently folded the letter and put it in her shirt pocket. She took one last look around and walked out.

The sun was easing down behind the hilltops, playing hide-and-seek between the branches and leaves of the towering coves of trees that led to the Left Hand River and separated them from the white part of town. The air was filled with the fresh scents of rich earth, ripe grass, farm animals and simplicity.

That's what she drew into her lungs—simplicity. The slow, easy pace of country living. She'd been home for just about a month and she had yet to see one person hurrying anywhere. There wasn't an abundance of cars. The town was so small, folks walked mostly everywhere. And if they did have a ways to go they hitched a ride.

Gentrification hadn't touched Rudell. Somehow the townspeople were able to maintain their way of life without the onslaught of yuppies, buppies, condos, superstores and coffee giants squeezing the spirit out of them.

She walked up the path that led to her grandparents' home, a neat two-story structure, one of only a half dozen like it in town. Today was the first day that the front door wasn't swinging open and closed from the trainload of grievers that had click-clacked through the house for three days. She'd swear that all five hundred residents of Rudell must have come to pay their respects to her grandmother, and they dropped off a bounty of food, including whole fried chickens, seasoned collards, peas and rice, mac and cheese, fruit salads and peanuts. Granddad would have enough food for the next two months. And from the gleam in some of the widows' eyes and the extra smiles on their red lips, he'd have company, too.

A light went on in the window of the second floor, catching her eye. She watched the silhouette of her grandfather as he slowly sat down on the side of the bed and buried his head in his hands.

Parris shut her eyes for a moment and sent up a silent prayer to ease his heart. When she opened the front door, Nick was at the kitchen table. His suitcase, like a faithful pup, sat at his feet. A medley of mouthwatering aromas harmonized in a "come sit down" tune and her stomach called back in response.

"Hi." The faint greeting hung in the food-scented air.

"Thought I was going to miss you." He pushed back from the table, the old wooden legs of the chair tap-dancing across the highs and lows of the aging linoleum.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

His jaw tightened as he nodded.

"What time is your bus?"

"Six. David…your grandfather said he would drive me to the station."

Uncertainty made them sudden strangers. Instead of reaching for each other they sought the support of chair backs and table edges.

Parris squeezed and twisted the shawl between her fingers. "I can take you."

"Are you sure?"

"I want to."

Nick pushed his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching for her, to appear as casual and unaffected as she. He shrugged his left shoulder. "Cool. Ready when you are."

She tried to meet his eyes but the questions that hung there turned her away. "I'll let Granddad know." She hurried toward the stairs and went up.

The door at the end of the hall was closed, but couldn't contain the light within—a sliver snuck out from the bottom and bathed the floor with a path of illumination that beckoned her. She knocked lightly on the door, listened to the rustle of movement and the creek of the four-poster bed.

A half smile greeted her. "Was just resting a bit before I took your young man to the bus depot."

"That's what I came to tell you. I'm going to take him."

The smile came full. He dug in his pocket and took out the car keys. "Drive slow." He handed her the keys.

Parris grinned. "Is there any other way to drive in Rudell?" She leaned up and kissed his gray-stubbled cheek. "See you soon."

"I'll leave a plate out for you."

"Thanks," she said over her shoulder. When she returned to the kitchen, Nick had already taken his bag and was sitting on the steps outside. She pressed her fingertips to her stomach to settle the butterflies that had broken loose. "Ready?"

He angled his head toward her then stood, the long lean lines of his body unfolding like the break of dawn—it was pure majesty.

"Sure." He trotted down the four steps ahead of her and strolled toward the old Ford parked at the end of the path.

As Parris descended the stairs she couldn't believe that she was actually letting him go back to New York without her. Initially, before the full ramifications of her discovery hit her, she'd told Nick that she wanted him to meet her mother. The raw excitement of finding out that her mother was indeed alive overshadowed the questions that began as a light summer shower before intensifying to an unstoppable hurricane, ruining everything in its path. She was battered by the unrelenting winds and rains of confusion, weakened and shocked by the power of deceit, leaving her with only remnants of what she'd been able to salvage. She wasn't the woman he'd met so many months ago when she shyly approached him for a singing gig at his nightclub. She wasn't the woman who captured an audience and held them in her palm like the last strains of a Billie Holiday ballad. She wasn't the woman who walked out on her boss/lover, lost her job and her apartment.

She was someone else now and until she discovered who that someone was, she couldn't be part of anyone's life.

To order online, go to: http://www.eharlequin.com/storeitem.html?iid=21132

LLLB Sneak Peek - Chocolate Goodies by Jacquelin Thomas

Chocolate Goodies by Jacquelin Thomas Excerpt

"Michael, all that hip-hop music doesn't bother you?" twenty-nine year old Constance Stanley asked her brother as they finished packing up a box of chocolates shaped like the Easter Bunny. She was going to drop it off to a preschool down the street from her house later that evening.

The school was having its annual Easter celebration on Friday. Stanley Chocolates donated a box to them every year.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, all I ever see coming out of D-Unit is a bunch of thugs," she complained. "Why didn't the owner just open a music store on Crenshaw or in Compton—anywhere but here in Brentwood?"

"Coco, you worry too much," Michael responded. "There's been no trouble since the store opened, and none of the other tenants are complaining. Have you even gone over there to meet the owner?" Her brother managed their family-owned chocolate factory, Stanley Chocolates, which was next door to her shop.

"No. I'm not sure I want to meet him, either," she huffed. He's probably a thug as well, she thought, but didn't say it.

"I think you'd feel better if you do," Michael said as he followed her out to her car. "Instead of making all these snap judgments. C'mon, I'll walk over there with you."

Coco unlocked her door and then shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. It was a beautiful day in April. Much too pretty to be working inside, but life didn't stop for perfect spring days.

"I don't know…maybe later this afternoon," she told him. "That way I can tell him to turn down his music. We definitely don't need him or her scaring away our customers."

Michael laughed. "The music is not that loud, Coco. You can't even understand the lyrics. As for ruining business, I don't think you have to worry about that. You know the saying, 'chocolate is a girl's best friend.'"

"Speaking of chocolate," Coco began, "I have this idea for a new product for my shop. What do you think of combining cardamom, citrus and organic walnuts with Venezuelan dark chocolate?"

"Sounds delicious," he murmured. "Is this something you want me to experiment with?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to play around with it myself," Coco said with a quick shake of her head. "You have enough to do with that big order that just came in for the Randolph Hotel."

It's not like I have much of a social life these days.

Coco checked her watch. "I need to get out of here. It's almost time for me to open."

Michael gave her a hug. "See you later, sis."

She left the plant and walked next door.

Shortly after Coco opened the doors, her first customer strolled inside.

"Good morning, Stella," she said with a smile.

"Hey, girl," she responded. "Coco, I need half a pound of almond butter crunch."

She quickly packaged the order and handed it to her customer. "It's going to be twenty dollars even."

"Thank you," Stella said. "I just broke up with my boyfriend so I'm curling up tonight when I get home, with a good book and this bag of chocolates. They always make me feel better."

Coco nodded in understanding. There had been many nights when she'd bonded with a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts and a book or a feel-good movie.

Like her brother said, chocolate was a girl's best friend. It was this guilty pleasure that kept her family in business. She had skillfully turned Coco's Chocolate Bar into a very successful venture.

Constance, who preferred to be called by her nickname, Coco, descended from a long line of chocolatiers dating all the way back to the early nineteen hundreds. Her great-great-grandparents had made chocolate and sold it to the local markets. When Coco graduated from college, she'd opted to open a gourmet chocolate shop featuring exotic spices and flavors and make all the chocolate, too, instead of following the family tradition of only making chocolates and distributing them to other stores. Coco had always wanted to open her own specialty shop; it had been a lifelong dream as long as she could remember.

Coco's Chocolate Bar carried exotic chocolates like ones made of sea salt and roasted almonds, pralines and peanuts from Marcona, Spain. Dark chocolates rich with the zip of New Orleans–style chicory coffee and cocoa nibs.

Based in the Brentwood area of Los Angeles, Coco's featured a warm and cozy sitting area, adorned with a beautiful marble bar with mint-green leather chairs for customers to gather and enjoy a taste of her unique chocolates, all of which were produced in the huge plant next door. She also carried her family's line of chocolates.

A young woman strolled into the shop, propelling Coco out of her musings. "Hey you," she said. "Elle, what are you doing here?"

The woman smiled. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd come by and pick up some white-chocolate-covered pralines for Mama. You know how much she loves them."

Coco scooped up the treats into a shiny silver bag. "How is Aunt Amanda doing, Elle? I haven't seen her in months." She tied a mint-green ribbon with brown polka dots around the bag, and then handed it over. She and Elle had been friends since they were both toddlers. Their families were close, so Coco considered them an extended part of her own.

"She's fine," Elle responded. "Just needs to take it easy, but you know how she is—she's not listening to anything her children tell her."

"How are my babies doing?" Coco inquired, referring to Elle's twin boys.

"Great," she answered. "They are not babies anymore, though. They're growing up so fast. I can hardly believe that they're almost four years old."

"That's why you have to enjoy them as much as you can," Coco said. "My niece is turning five on Saturday. I don't know where the time has gone. It seems like it was just a few months ago that I was changing Cinnamon's diapers and giving her a bottle."

Elle sat down in one of the chairs at the bar. "We haven't talked in a while. What's going on with you, Coco? Anyone special in your life?"

"Nope," she answered. "There's no one special. Other than working, there's nothing else going on right now. I'm not complaining, though. I need a little break. Valentine's Day was a bit hectic this year and March was a steady pace. So far April has been good. I expect this weekend to get a little crazy, since it's the Easter weekend."

"I picked up my stuff for the boys' baskets," Elle said. "Now I just need to sit down and do them. Some days I'm just so tired, all I want to do is sleep."

"Are you feeling okay?" Coco asked out of concern.

Elle nodded. "I'm fine. I've put on some weight from all of the eating out and lying around. I think I'm going to go to the gym after Easter." She gestured toward the door. "I see there's a new store across the street. D-Unit? Have you been over there yet?"

Coco shook her head, turning up her nose. "All I ever hear is hip-hop music, so I won't be giving them any of my money. I really wish they had moved to a different location."

"Why?"

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the bar. "Elle, I moved out here for a reason. See how nice it is? I don't want to be in an area infested with thugs. What do you think that music store is going to bring?" she asked. "Thugs."

"What does Michael think? The factory has been in this location for a while."

"My brother thinks I worry too much. I don't think he worries enough."

Elle chuckled. "Sounds like me and my brothers."

"I saw your hubby yesterday. Did he tell you?"

She nodded. "Brennan's leaving to go to Costa Rica on Saturday. He's going to be gone for a week."

Coco eyed her friend. "Why don't you go with him? You have more than enough people to help with the twins."

"He wants me to, but I don't know."

"Elle, what's up?"

"I just feel that I need to stay home. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm always tired, it seems, and then Ivy's ex-husband is getting married on Saturday and she's very upset about it, so I think I should stay with her. We're going to take her to a spa that day and then do some retail therapy."

"I remember she was pretty upset over the divorce." Coco shook her head. "I can't believe Charles is getting married again."

Elle nodded. "Ivy kept hoping they would get back together. They had even starting seeing each other last July, and spending time together. Then right after Christmas, Charles announced that he was engaged. Apparently he must have been seeing this girl and Ivy at the same time."

"What a jerk," Coco declared.

Elle agreed, switching her purse from one side to the other. "I'm so disappointed in him."

Coco walked her out to her car. Once outside, she heard music blaring from the center and asked, "Can you hear that craziness?"

"It doesn't sound bad. You just don't care for hip-hop music." Elle listened for a moment. "It's not too loud and you only hear it when the doors open, actually."

"It's a genre of music I wish would just die," Coco uttered. "There's just nothing good about it, in my opinion." She loved classical music, gospel and old school R&B, and truly believed that the world could do without rap music.

"I like some of it," Elle said. "There are a few nice ones out there."

"I really wish the owner had opened at another location. We didn't see all these teenage boys in this area until that store opened. They are over there all the time." Coco's view of teenagers was colored by what she saw and heard on television. So far, she had not met anyone who could refute the images.

Elle embraced her. "It'll work out. Most businesses don't seem to last long over there. That one might be gone before you realize it."

Coco nodded. "You're right about that."

"You should come to Riverside one Sunday for one of the Ransom dinners. We have a great time and I know that Mama would love to see you."

"I'd love to come. Maybe we can do it one Sunday next month."

Elle smiled. "Look at your schedule and let me know which one you can make."

The two women embraced again.

"Have a great rest of the week."

Coco strolled back into her shop.

The telephone rang.

She knew instinctively that it was her mother calling because she always called around this time. "Coco's Chocolate Bar," she said.

"Good morning, sweetie. It's Mom."

Coco smiled. "I knew it was you. How are you, Mama?" She propped her hip against the mini stainless steel fridge behind the bar.

"I'm fine. Just wanted to check in with you. How is your day going so far?"

"Great," she responded. "Elle was just here."

"I'm having lunch with Amanda on Wednesday. I haven't seen her in a couple of months so we figured it was time for a girls' day out."

"I'm glad you're getting out," Coco said. Her mother hadn't been feeling well due to a bad sinus infection.

"Oh, by the way, Gregory Barton called here. He's in town for the next couple of weeks and wanted to get together with you."

Greg was an old boyfriend from her college days. "What did you tell him?" Coco asked.

"That I'd give you his information. There was nothing else to say."

"So you didn't mention anything about him getting someone else pregnant while he was seeing me?"

"I figured I'd let you handle all of the particulars," her mother said. "I know that you don't like me interfering in your relationships."

Coco laughed. "You are never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No, I don't think I am," she responded with a short laugh.

A customer walked into the shop.

"Mama, I have to go," Coco said quickly. "I'll call you later."

She silently debated whether or not to give Greg a call. He'd e-mailed her a few times, apologizing for hurting her and for being unfaithful. He had told her that she was the one who had gotten away.

Whatever.

She later decided that it was best to leave the past in the past. She would call Greg back, but only to say goodbye.

Ransom Winters bobbed his head to the thumping music as he strolled around the room, making sure the boys were completing their school assignments.

Thirty-two years old and a self-made millionaire, Ransom was the founder of D-Unit, a structured day program for at-risk teens who didn't attend school on a regular basis. The boys had a history of excessive class cutting or suspensions in their regular schools; D-Unit was a reputable, short-term alternative for them to attend, but still keep up their regular school assignments.

He paused at the table by a young man wearing a black-and-white Sean John T-shirt. "What are you working on, Jerome?"

The fifteen-year-old glanced up and said, "I have to do a book report on the Civil War."

"Have you started your research?" Ransom asked.

"Not yet." He glanced around the room before adding, "We don't have a computer at home."

"Do you have encyclopedias?"

The boy shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"You can use the computer over there," Ransom said, pointing toward the one on the far left. "We have a set of encyclopedias, as well. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks."

Ransom smiled. He truly believed that it took a village to raise children, and having been a youth counselor in the school system, he knew firsthand that most teens weren't misbehaving just because. There was always a reason, usually due to what was going on at home: absent fathers, mothers on drugs, etc. His program allowed teens to come to the center and continue their education. He and his staff worked in a Christian hip-hop environment designed to put the teen boys at ease.

Recent statistics showed that the students in his program returned to school with a change of attitude and grades improved. A couple of the boys had turned in their flags, giving up the gangs to which they once belonged.

To order online, go to: http://www.eharlequin.com/storeitem.html?iid=20956

LLLB Sneak Peek - Island Fantasy by Kayla Perrin

Island Fantasy by Kayla Perrin Excerpt

Shayna Kenyon didn't consider herself a vengeful person. Revenge was not her style. In life, she had been able to turn the other cheek when people had wronged her. Been able to move forward and leave any ugliness in the past.

But last night… A flash of what she'd witnessed with her own two eyes entered her brain, causing her stomach to twist harshly. She couldn't very well move forward from Vince's betrayal in the same easy fashion she had moved forward when necessary in the past.

Especially not today.

Today… Oh, Lord help her.

The depth of Vince's betrayal burned deep in her soul. And the timing of it couldn't have been worse.

Shayna inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes misted, but she held back her tears. She had to do what she was about to do. There was no other choice.

"Baby, it's okay," her father said and held her arm a little closer to his side. "There's no need to cry. You're marrying a man who adores you, and if I do say so myself, you look incredible. You're my daughter, yes, but I mean it when I say this—you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. Other than your mother," he added with a smile. "This is your day. Enjoy it."

Enjoy it, Shayna thought sourly. She hadn't enjoyed anything since last night—and she had the puffy eyes to prove it. She'd told her parents that she'd been too excited to sleep, which wasn't the truth. She'd been too devastated to truly rest. All night, she had lain awake, alternately crying and contemplating what to do.

Her decision—approved by her sister—was the only thing giving her the power to walk down the aisle. The fact that there would be some satisfaction in what was coming next. It was the only reason she'd gotten all dressed up and spent two hours getting her hair and makeup done. To see the look on Vince's face when she let him—and all the guests in attendance—know that she knew.

The last of Shayna's five bridesmaids took her place on the podium. After a few beats of silence, the local singer she and Vince had hired began her rendition of "Here I Am" by Beyoncé and Eric Benét. Shayna and Vince had opted for something more contemporary as opposed to the traditional organ music signaling the bride's walk down the aisle.

Shayna swallowed, tears falling from her eyes even though she didn't want them to. Her father pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at her cheeks.

"Come on, baby," he urged. "Everyone's waiting."

Shayna hesitated a beat, suddenly unsure. But even her sister had encouraged her to do what she was about to do next. "Do what you need to do," her younger sister, Brianne, had told her. "As far as I'm concerned, Vince deserves much worse than public humiliation."

The singer continued the soulful love ballad, and Shayna knew she should start moving. Through the church's back door windows, she could see everyone on their feet, waiting for her to take her final walk as a single woman.

The doors opened. She began to move. She was nervous and devastated, and yet she tried to force a smile. Given her state of mind, she wasn't sure she accomplished her goal.

All around her, people were grinning. Some grinning and crying. This was a wonderful occasion. One she'd waited thirty-two years for. Her family was ecstatic that she'd found the kind of love that lasted a lifetime.

Shayna knew better, and soon everyone else would, too.

While walking down the aisle, Shayna hadn't allowed herself to look directly at Vince, afraid she would fall apart. But as she neared him, she did. Her stomach lurched with disgust when she saw the tears streaming down his face.

Tears of joy, or tears of shame?

The tears of shame would come soon—that much she was sure of.

Near the pulpit, her father stopped, faced her and dabbed at his own tears before kissing her cheek. "I love you, baby," he said.

"I love you, too," Shayna said, her voice a whisper.

She hoped her father wouldn't be upset with her ruse, but she knew his wrath would be for Vince. Vince, who'd behaved like the son her father had never had.

How could you? Shayna wondered, and then took the two steps onto the podium to join her groom.

The singer finished her song. Vince took Shayna's hands in his, his eyes lighting up with warmth.

"Baby, you look amazing," he told her, and Shayna wanted to yank her hands from his grip. She was past the devastation, at least temporarily, and was going on pure anger.

"Dearly beloved," the minister intoned. "We are gathered here today—"

"Excuse me," Shayna interrupted, her stomach fluttering. She had known she would speak, but she hadn't expected it to be just then. But she couldn't fake it a moment longer. Couldn't stand the sight of Vince acting like the happy fiancé. "I—I need to say something."

The minister looked confused. So did Vince.

But when neither objected, Shayna forged ahead, meeting her fiancé's tear-filled eyes. "Actually, I have a question for you, sweetheart." She added the last word with much exaggeration.

"What, baby?" Vince asked, looking and sounding concerned. "What is it?"

Part of her wanted to turn and run down the aisle. That would be easier than confronting Vince publicly. And yet, she'd made up her mind. Difficult or not, she was going to do what she'd planned.

"Do you love me, Vince?" Shayna asked. "Love me enough that you believe you're making the right decision by marrying me?"

A hum of surprise sounded in the crowd. People were curious now, perhaps some realizing that something wasn't right.

"Of course I do," Vince responded. He squeezed Shayna's hands tighter and chuckled softly in relief, his tone saying he felt his bride was suffering from last-minute jitters. "You know I love you more than anything, baby. You're the one I want to grow old with. Have children with. Spend the rest of my life with."

There were some, "Awwws," and a few people even clapped—that's how perfect Vince's answer had been.

"Shall I continue?" the minister asked. The warm smile on his face said he also believed that Shayna had simply needed reassuring.

Shayna faced the minister. A beat passed. Then she said, "Just one more question."

Silence filled the church, so much so that the buzzing of a fly could be heard. Shayna swallowed the lump in her throat so that she could find her voice, aware that everyone was waiting to hear what she had to say.

She straightened her shoulders and said, "You love me."

"Of course."

"You love me so much you ended up in your car after your bachelor party, making out with a stripper!"

Startled gasps erupted in the pews.

"Baby," Vince said. He tried to chuckle, but the sound was hollow. "A—a stripper? W-what?"

Shayna pulled her hands from the man she was grateful not to be marrying. "Don't you dare try to lie, Vince. I saw you with my own eyes! You were parked right outside the private hall you rented, you jerk. I saw you leave the building with her. I saw you go to your car with her. And I saw what happened after that, too."

Vince said nothing, but Shayna saw the panic in his widened eyes. The disbelief that she could possibly know what he'd done.

Shayna glanced to her left, at her sister, who was her maid of honor. Brianne nodded her encouragement.

" And baby," Shayna went on, slowly and clearly, "if that's your definition of love, then I'll pass on the whole marrying you thing, thank you very much."

Vince's mouth fell open, but he was too startled to speak. A buzz of surprised chatter instantly filled the church. The groomsmen and bridesmaids all stared at Shayna, stunned looks on their faces. Shayna would answer their questions— but not yet.

Running on adrenaline, Shayna gathered her wide organza skirt in her hands and turned as swiftly as she could. She hustled back down the aisle, aware that all eyes were on her.

She knew she would cry later, but for that moment, as she neared the back doors of the church, she smiled.

Vince Danbury may have had a scandalously good time last night, but Shayna had just had the last laugh.

"You're still going on your honeymoon?" Brianne asked Shayna later that afternoon, the look on her face saying she thought her sister was crazy.

"I'm not going on my honeymoon," Shayna clarified. She was running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, trying to loosen the tight spiral curls the hairdresser had done such a great job of creating for her wedding. "A honeymoon requires two people who just tied the knot."

"You know what I mean," Brianne said. "You still plan to go to Jamaica tomorrow—the trip that was supposed to be your honeymoon?"

"Seven days in Jamaica? Of course I'm going."

Brianne placed her hands on her hips as she stared at Shayna, who sat on the edge of Brianne's bed. "You're serious."

Shayna didn't respond. Instead, her eyes traveled over her sister—from the white orchid adorning her short black hair to the pale yellow maid of honor dress. "Do me a favor, sis?

Take that dress off, please?" Her wedding dress had been the first thing Shayna had taken off when she'd gotten to her parents' house, slipping into a pair of her sister's shorts and a T-shirt. "I really don't want any reminders of Vince."

"Oh." Brianne smoothed her hands over the dress. "Right." She reached behind her to drag down the zipper. "Such a shame I didn't get to wear this all day. After all that weight I lost for your wedding…"

Her sister did look fabulous. At the beginning of the year, she'd started a diet and rigorous workout routine to get in better shape for Shayna's wedding. She'd lost thirty-five pounds.

Brianne walked toward the closet, shimmying the dress off her shoulders. She found a red sundress with a formfitting halter neck and slipped into that.

Brianne twirled around, facing Shayna again in the casual dress. "Better?"

Shayna nodded. "Yes. Except for the flower."

Brianne pulled the flower from her hair and tossed it onto her dresser. "Now, back to your trip—"

"Yes, I'm going."

"But you're grieving," Brianne protested. "This isn't the time to go on a trip alone."

"Why not?"

"Because you hate even going to a movie alone," Brianne pointed out. "I can't see you going on a trip by yourself."

"Well, I am."

The look Brianne flashed her sister was full of doubt. She thought Shayna was bluffing.

"I'm a big girl," Shayna went on. "I'm entitled."

"I know, but—"

"But what? You think I'm going to do something crazy?"

"Maybe you will," Brianne said, but her tone quavered, indicating she didn't believe her sister would do anything out of character. "Maybe you'll end up marrying the first man who hits on you."

Shayna laughed out loud at that.

"Don't laugh. Remember that happened to my friend Gloria's friend's sister."

Shayna scowled at Brianne. "That was in Vegas, and she was drunk and on the rebound."

"You're on the rebound."

"Rebound? Already?" Shayna's heart spasmed, but somehow, she found the strength to force a laugh. "Right now I should be at the park, taking perfect wedding photos with that expensive photographer Daddy hired. Instead…" Her voice trailed off. She couldn't go on, or she would cry. "Bree, the way I feel right now, if I never see another man, it'll be too soon. Trust me."

Brianne took a seat beside Shayna on the bed. "Shay, I'm so sorry. Part of me wishes I'd never suggested we drive by that hall to see what the groomsmen were up to."

"And if we hadn't, I'd be married right now—not knowing that my husband was a dirty cheating jerk." The anger helped Shayna hold back any tears. "No, I'm glad you suggested it. Everything happens for a reason, and in this case, it was to spare me the pain of marrying the wrong man." Shayna was amazed at how calmly and rationally she was dealing with the situation, but she truly believed that nothing good came of fretting over something she couldn't control. "I don't want to be married for the sake of being married. I need to be with a man who loves and adores me enough not to sleep with some stripper he just met. To know—even if he was drunk—that no other woman could ever tempt him away from the woman who's in his heart."

Brianne shook her head, the look on her face suddenly venomous. "I still can't believe Vince could do that. If we hadn't witnessed it, I never would have believed him capable of that kind of betrayal."

"Me neither," Shayna said softly. "And the night before our wedding? That's the reason I need to go away. I can't be around here, see all the places we liked to go to. I can't deal with the calls from everyone. I'm holding it together now, but I know at some point I'm going to fall apart."

"Which is why you need to be with your family. People who love you."

Shayna smiled, loving her sister for caring so much, though if the situation were reversed, Shayna would be saying the same thing to Brianne. They were eighteen months apart, but as close as twins. They'd been there for each other through every triumph and tragedy in each other's lives.

Like when Brianne had lost her boyfriend, Carter. Three years ago, Carter had vanished while hiking in the Rockies. After weeks of searching for him and finding only his backpack, the authorities came to the conclusion that he'd likely died of exposure, and that coyotes or other wildlife must have eaten his remains. It had been the worst time of Brianne's life—after which she'd turned to food for comfort. Shayna had been there for her sister through the entire harrowing ordeal.

"I know how much you love me," Shayna said, smiling softly. "And I appreciate you caring for me. But I need some time for myself. Time to reflect on everything. Time to lie in bed and do nothing if I don't want to. Time to sit on the beach and read all those books I thought I'd never have time to read. Time to just…get away from it all."

"You're sure?" Brianne asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Shayna said, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. "'Still I rise,'" she went on, quoting Maya Angelou.

To order online, go to: http://www.eharlequin.com/storeitem.html?iid=20955

LLL&B Chats with Brenda Jackson February 25, 2010

Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome Brenda Jackson to our February Chat.

Date: Thursday, February 25, 2010
Time: 8:00pm until 9:00pm EST
Where: http://chat.parachat.com/chat/login.html?room=LiveLoveLaughandBooks&width=600&height=400&bg=FFFFFF&lang=en

Ravished By Desire
by Brenda Jackson

A Little Dare

When Shelly Brockman walks into his office, Sheriff Dare Westmoreland can almost taste the sweet, steamy passion they'd once shared. Then she informs him that he is the father of her son, the unruly preteen Dare arrested earlier that day, and his fantasies turn to fury. Shelly has returned to her Georgia hometown to get her son away from the mean streets of Los Angeles, and she hopes that getting to know his father will do her child a world of good. But will being so close to Dare—the only man to ever make Shelly's heartbeat race—reopen old wounds, or will this be her last chance to secure his love forever?

Thorn's Challenge

One sizzling kiss from Thorn Westmoreland isn't enough to convince Tara Matthews to risk her heart again…or is it? The beautiful doctor and the hard-driving motorcycle tycoon mix like oil and water. Why, then, can't Tara erase the memory of the sexy racer from her head, or thoughts of his passionate caresses from her body? Thorn has wanted Tara since the day they met. His plan is to seduce the prickly doctor and indulge in a casual affair. But before he can savor the success of their passion, she turns the tables on him. Now instead of working her out of his system, Thorn is hell-bent on winning Tara's love….

LLLB Sneak Peek - Paper Thin by Shelia M Goss

The Lip Gloss Chronicles explores the life of three Sassy, Urban, and Hip high school friends who are high on fashion and a magnet for drama.

Paper Thin by Shelia M Goss Excerpt

“Sierra, don’t tell Jorge,” Maria Sanchez said to me, as I helped her sneak shopping bags into the house. The way my step-mother shopped, you could not tell we were in a recession.

If my dad found out, he would be upset. He had sat the whole family down earlier this year to let us know that business was slow so we all needed to buckle down to ride out the storm. We used to have a live-in maid, but now she only comes over three times a week. My dad, a prominent Dallas real estate developer, over the years had received many awards. He was often compared to Donald Trump because whatever he touched seemed to turn to gold.

Zion and my dad were busy in the den playing a video game so it gave us time to put her things away. After what seemed like hours but was only minutes, I said, “Mom, I think I’ll take a nap. All of this shopping has worn me out.” I helped her remove tags to the clothing items as she hung them up in her closet.

“We’re about through here anyway. Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” she responded. “I’m trying to make sure we eat before six. We don’t want all of our hard work this past summer to go to waste do we?”

I loved Maria as if she was my own mom, but her constant obsession with my weight had gotten on my nerves. She was good at keeping secrets. My dad had no idea that our week long excursions over the summer were really weight loss retreats that she insisted her and I attend. Maria’s battle with the bulge was rubbing off on me.

It was times like these that I missed Vanessa, my real mom. I was real young when she died in a car crash. My memories of her sometimes seemed vivid and strong and then there were times that I could barely remember her. Those are the times when I would get depressed. My BFFs – Best Friends Forever, Britney Franklin and Jasmine McNeil, usually helped get me out of my funk.

I threw myself across my bed and closed my eyes. Sleep evaded me. I fumbled with my Blackberry and called Britney. “Hey chica,” I said, when she answered.

“Do you want a baby brother or sister?” Britney asked, as I heard the twins crying in the background.

“Nope. My little brother is enough.”

“Precious hit Teddy Junior because he was taking up too much of my attention. Now they both are crying,” she stated. It sounded like the babies were right in the phone as loud as they were.

“Call me back later. When things settle down,” I said.

“No, I can talk. I just buzzed their nanny. She’ll be in any minute.”

“Is Jas back?” I asked.

“She got back last night. She said she was going to text you.”

“She did, but she didn’t mention she was back.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. It seems like these last two months had us all going in different directions,” Britney said. I no longer heard the twins in the background.

“At least you guys went on real vacations. I was forced to go on these retreats with my mom.”

“I’ve never been to Albuquerque or the Poconos,” Britney said.

“It may have been fun if I wasn’t starving. We didn’t eat anything but green vegetables and maybe a small piece of meat each time. And the long hikes. You ought to see my leg muscles. I should be fit to run a marathon.”

Britney laughed. “Girl, well you should be kicking up your heels during dance rehearsal next week.”

“I can’t wait. I’m hoping we get to perform more this year.”

“Me too. I’ve been practicing some moves. You ought to come over tomorrow so I can show you.”

“I don’t know. I think my mom wants me to spend quality time with her and the family tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

Britney’s line clicked. “Three-way Jas. That’s her on my other line.”

A few seconds later, Jasmine was on the line. “Did y’all miss me?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” Britney and I said in unison.

“You both will be changing your tune when you see the gifts I brought back for you.”

I sat up in bed while thumbing through a fashion magazine. I said, “I promise to be nice.” I paused and then said, “For a minute anyway.”

We all burst out laughing.

Britney placed us on hold to talk to Marcus. Jasmine said, “I thought her and Marcus was through.”

“Their just friends,” I said, in her defense.

“She knows he still likes her so I don’t know why she keeps stringing him along.”

“I heard that,” Britney said, alerting us she was back on the line.

“Well you are. Marcus is not just trying to be your friend. He wants more. You know it and we know it.”

Jasmine and I didn’t always agree on everything but I did agree with her about Marcus intentions with Britney. Britney and Marcus were boyfriend and girlfriend for a few months but because of Marcus’ cousin, Dylan Johnson or DJ as we called him, their relationship fizzled. Just the thought of DJ, my worst nightmare, made my skin crawl. I thought I was in love with him and he would have taken advantage of my feelings if my friends wouldn’t have intervened.

I heard my name called a few times snapping me out of my bad memory of DJ. “Bri, spill the beans. Are you and Marcus back together or what?” I asked.

“We are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you guys that,” Britney said, sounding frustrated.

“Enough about Bri. I met the cutest guy on the cruise ship. He lives in Los Angeles. Get this. He has relatives in Shreveport so when he comes down to visit, we’ll be hooking up,” Jasmine said. She loved being the center of attention and it was clear that this past summer didn’t change her in that aspect.

We continued to listen to Jasmine tell us about her summer vacation. It had been two months since we had seen each other because of our family summer schedules. My two BFFs would be in for a surprise when they saw me—twenty-five pounds less of me. It’s not like I was keeping a secret but after Jasmine taunted me last year about my weight gain, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to them about my weight.

Jasmine and Britney were naturally thin. Me, I had to work hard at maintaining an average weight. My birth mom was what folks called big-boned and I inherited it from not only her but my dad’s side of the family. My cousins said that I shouldn’t try to lose weight because when I got older I would appreciate having the bigger booty since guys loved a girl with a big butt.

I didn’t know about that, but I did know my weight at the time was one hundred and seventy pounds and it had me stressing. It was more than likely the reason why I became DJ’s victim. I needed to work on more than my weight; I needed to work on my attitude. I had an unforgettable freshman year and I was anxious to see what challenges I would face my sophomore year at one hundred and forty-five pounds.

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LLLB Sneak Peek - Trail of Kisses by Michelle Monkou

Trail of Kisses by Michelle Monkou Excerpt

"I understand the purpose of Operation Oasis in Colorado, no less." Asia Crawford lifted a devilish red lacy thong with the crook of her pinky finger. She eyed the offending object with a raised eyebrow. "What I don't understand is why I'll need this—or any of those." Her gaze shifted to the gifts of books and candy, before she jutted her chin toward the tiny mound of square latex packages.

"I provided the books," Denise remarked. "I don't know what your other sorority sisters have in mind." She wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"Actually I've come to expect this of you, Denise. You've made my birthday parties quite the talk." Asia surveyed the pile of sex accessories. "I'm not sure about what's the connection between getting laid off and getting laid?"

"Sex soothes the soul." Naomi folded her long, athletic body onto the sofa next to her. "Plus, it's been a year since you've been with a man. Although I don't consider Jack to be a real man. So you've had what is called a dry spell. Not good for maintaining positive karma."

"Well, being summoned in the middle of the day at work to Human Resources with an escort, and told that I have to exit the premises immediately, doesn't make me want to have sex." Asia remembered spending the first hour in a fog unable to grasp reality as she'd driven home. When the fog lifted, the full impact threw her emotions into a tailspin. She'd cried, railed at the unfairness and lain in bed staring at the TV into the weekend.

Despite her rationale that her dismissal was purely a business decision, the creeping sense of failure ate at her fragile confidence. Her life appeared to be crumbling like dominoes, as one thing crashed into the other until she lay flat, almost lifeless. Everyone told her that another door of opportunity would open. The thought was sadly comedic. In this economy, she'd have to open the doors, along with the windows.

"Here's a cosmo."

Asia took the drink from Sara. She prepared herself for a lecture, as Sara was known for delivering.

"I know you can't completely put this nasty business out of your mind. But today this intervention has one purpose—a much needed trip to get away from Chicago for a while."

"An intervention?" Asia almost choked on the heavy serving of vodka laced with a hint of cranberry. She had to thump her chest until the hit of alcohol faded. "I don't have any addictions, other than T.G.I. Friday's Brownie Obsession. Not sure what you've heard, although, thanks for all this…I think."

"I'll leave that comment alone. Now, getting back to the matter at hand, Operation Oasis is more than sexy underwear and physical gratification. You've always been there for each of our trials and been there for the celebrations. Let me remind you that the undergrad sorors presented you with the mentorship award for reaching back to pull up your sisters and for serving as a role model. You've done so much for so many. The least we could do is to provide a retreat of sorts with this spring trip to Colorado." Sara's presentation struck a humorous note with Naomi, who snorted. Asia bit her cheek to keep from giggling. "You need some spark back in your life," Sara added, waving off their silly behavior.

"And heck, it can't hurt to jump on a harmless booty call with a sexy, consenting hunk," Naomi added, banging her fist into her open palm.

Asia shook her head, making a face at Naomi's skewed philosophy of life and the role of sex. She shoved the lacy undergarments back into the gift bag. Her sorority sisters meant well when they planned and executed rescue missions. After all, she had participated in, and even led, several. Being on the receiving end was beyond embarrassing, though. All playing aside, her sorors' love threatened to start her tears. And she'd cried enough.

"This is supposed to be a good thing, Asia." Naomi threw her arm around her. "I thought that you'd cheer up."

"Sorry. I'm touched. Y'all are too much… Thank you." This time the tears surfaced. "This is a bit like winning the lottery."

"Yep, an all-expenses-paid getaway in the beautiful springtime Rockies, with a couple of Benjamins thrown in, and the possible bonus of getting picked up by an old rich man." Naomi nudged her in the ribs. "See if he's got a friend."

"Or being picked up by a fashion model on vacation. Good-looking, sexy, confident." Sara sighed with a dreamy expression.

"Hmmm…or a gorgeous bad boy running from the law." Denise did a little dance shuffle.

"Er…that's not going to happen," Asia answered. "None of those other fantasies, either. I plan on catching up on sleep, reading and updating my résumé. I may even go back to college. I'm using this time to kick my butt in gear and get focused. I have bills to pay. No way, no how, am I moving home with my parents." Asia shook her head for reiteration.

Naomi sighed. "You're hopelessly boring at twenty-nine. As the saying goes, Asia, 'Never say never.' Let me get you to the airport and send you on your merry way."

"But let us know how things are going. I wanted to come on the trip, but Naomi wouldn't let me. She thinks that you needed a solitary retreat," Sara added, pouting.

"I'll call, text, tweet." In reality, Asia welcomed the solitude. Having a twin made that goal difficult to attain sometimes.

She used to enjoy the attention, as a child, whenever she and Athena, her identical twin, were together. Dressing alike wasn't distasteful until high school, when she liked the same guy as Athena. When he obviously didn't bother noting the differences between them and crowed about dating twins, she and Athena dumped him, then decided to find their own styles.

Athena took the more brash approach to life, with lots of drama, at least one grounding a month and trips to their grandmother for stern lectures. Asia stayed on the sidelines as a spectator, seeing the distress and disappointment from her parents. Although she envied Athena's zany attitude, she quelled her impulses and worked on pleasing her parents and, in particular, her grandmother.

Now, her sister pursued her dream as a teacher on the small Caribbean island of La Isla del Azur. More importantly, she'd found her soul mate, Collin, and was head over heels in love.

The wild streak in her nature had taken a turn toward calm self-assuredness. Asia wondered if her sister could still understand the tumultuous feelings of discontent. Thank goodness she also had the strong relationships with her sorority sisters.

Naomi clapped her hands. "Party over, my ladies of distinction. Got to get Asia out of here on time. Take whatever food you'd like. Since Asia will be gone for a few weeks, no leftovers allowed."

Asia took the cue to retrieve her suitcases from the bedroom. Naomi had given her a hint about the trip earlier that week with the statement that she stop focusing on pleasing everyone but herself. And her friend had relayed her observations, in excruciating detail, of how Asia had dumbed down who she was to maintain the facade of the perfect life with Jack, her former boyfriend; and how she'd stayed on the same career track in the health field to impress her parents, as Athena had found true happiness.

Naomi, as did the rest of her line sisters, knew her dreams, those that may be far-fetched, along with those tiny wishes that required little of her but to accept willingly. Her candor sealed the decision for Asia. Only then did she pack, because doing so with a time crunch would've made her more frazzled than she already felt.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted her progress.

"Come in." Asia paused over her makeup bag. "Oh, hey, Sara, what's up?"

"Everyone is diving in to the food. Wanted to take a few minutes to chat with you."

"All right. What's up?" Asia continued tossing in a few last-minute toiletries.

"Nothing." Sara walked over to the edge of the bed and sat. Then she took a deep breath.

"Okay, now you've got me worried. Is something wrong?" Asia set down the bag and joined Sara.

"Gosh, no. This is about you, more than about me." She reached out her hand until Asia felt compelled to take it. "You've been keeping to yourself lately. I'm worried that it's more than being laid off. I'm worried that you're still feeling blue over that jerk."

"You mean Jack?"

"Jack, the jerk…yes, him."

"You don't hold back." Asia liked her privacy, including her personal business. Most times her sorors accepted her quirks. But Sara wasn't one to follow rules. "Jack messed with my head, more than my heart. I'm not brooding about it. But I'd be lying if I said that I plan to go down that romance road anytime soon. My heart has a Do Not Enter sign at the moment."

"Learning a lesson is always a good thing. But you know what I'm going to say."

"That I can't paint all men with the same brush." Asia held up her hand. "I appreciate your words of wisdom but you're the ultimate romantic."

"Don't brush me off. You plan out everything in your life. Success is your middle name. You expect high results and, for the most part, it comes your way. I know that you expected a long relationship with Jack, maybe even ending up in a wedding."

Asia shrugged. Her sorors always did like to psychoanalyze. But she wasn't the type to pull up a chair and share.

No one knew how hurt she was after Jack accused of her not letting him be "the man" in the relationship. The women in her family prided themselves on being strong and in charge of their destinies. She didn't set out to be anything less than that.

Her style intimidated him. So without any warning, he'd rejected her. Their plans to marry, have a family and grow old together were destroyed. He wanted a woman who needed him. Whatever that meant.

She wanted his friendship, commitment, respect. She would've told the whole world, including her sorors, that they had those things between them. Reality forced her to be honest—she saw all of Jack's failures from the beginning. Trying to change him was a futile exercise. Not once did she miss him after they went their separate ways. Her ego, more than her heart, suffered the bruising. However, she didn't plan to repeat the same mistakes or go down the same path.

"Promise you'll get your head together and not dwell on what could have been." Sara reached into her pocketbook and tossed out an additional box of latex protection. "These are highly recommended. A couple of weeks to let the freaky side of Asia emerge. That jerk tried to destroy who you are. The job used your talents and then discarded you. Time for you to relax and do a whole lot of releasing. I know you have it in you. College days weren't so long ago." Sara grinned with too much mischief.

Asia looked down at the box in her hand. One more thing to add to the makeup bag.

"Hurry up, Asia. We need to get on the road." Naomi popped her head into the room.

"Don't overthink. Go. Live life a little. Get your mojo back." Sara kissed her cheek and left the room.

Asia looked around the bedroom. Everything was neatly in its place, thanks to the Container Store. Her life used to fit in neat cubbyholes. Organization, planning ahead and setting goals gave her comfort. She pulled up the handles of her suitcases and yanked them behind her.

She stepped into the living room. "I'm ready."

"Have a blast!" Denise hugged her.

"If you're having too much of a good time, call me. I'll be there in a jiffy." Sara added her hug.

And with a boisterous send-off, Asia accepted her sorors' farewell. Minutes later she headed to the airport for her attitude intervention program in the Rocky Mountains—specifically, Brewers Ridge, Colorado.

Asia walked the path leading to the house. Naomi had promised her a nice rustic vacation spot in the mountains, but the building in front of her wasn't exactly an old-fashioned log cabin. This house, built of massive logs, belonged in a high-end architectural magazine. It was three stories high and separated from any neighbors by lots of surrounding land. For a few weeks, she would have full access to this luxury vacation home. Her line sisters could definitely use this for a girls' retreat.

"Naomi, you sure know how to hook up a sister," Asia mumbled as she pressed the doorbell.

"May I help you?" A middle-aged woman smartly dressed in a tailored pantsuit stood in the doorway. An assessment was made of Asia, with a lingering measured look at the slightly tattered sneakers she wore.

"I'm Asia Crawford. I think you were expecting me."

"Yes." A small frown worked across the woman's head. "Let me see. There you are. For one second, I thought maybe my associate misplaced your reservation. She is new, you see, and still a bit unsure of herself. By the way, I'm Veronica McBeal." She stepped back for Asia to enter. "Did you have any problems with your flight or driver?" Confirmed as a client, Asia now received a warmer reception.

"Nope. As a matter of fact, it was one of the best trips I've had." Flying first class did make a difference—leg room, fine food and passengers of the upper income persuasion.

"Great. Let me give you a tour and then I'll turn over the keys. We have the credit card information already, so we are all set on the little details."

"Thanks." Asia didn't want to know how much this place must cost. Even if she'd planned to use her credit card, she didn't think the limit would've been enough to cover a couple of nights, much less a few weeks.

The rental associate dutifully led her through each level. Her polished presentation reflected excitement as they toured the bedrooms, and then checked out the various amenities, such as the oversize tub with jet propulsion openings. Quite clearly the bathroom facilities held a very personal charm over the woman. Asia planned to discover if her hype was true that night.

"You must have a waiting list for this place." Asia held on to the key with both hands.

"Yes, we always do. The location allows for privacy, but it's close enough to the resorts for ski enthusiasts in the winter. Spring is a perfect time to walk along the hiking trails. We've got a security detail overseeing the property, so you don't have to worry."

Asia nodded. Having a millionaire assaulted or kidnapped would ruin business. Even though she wasn't anywhere near that income bracket, she would have fun playing with the fantasy. Already the urge to relax and let loose stirred in her. An all-expenses vacation tended to have that effect. Too bad she didn't know a soul and didn't plan on making friends.

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LLLB Sneak Peek - The Perfect Seduction by Carmen Green

The Perfect Seduction by Carmen Green Excerpt

Jolted from a heavy sleep by frantic gloved hands, Loren Smith struck back at her attacker, hoping that her life would be spared.

She tried to scream, but could only cough as intense heat seared her lungs. Two firemen came into focus, and Loren realized this wasn't an attack but a rescue.

"Your apartment is on fire and we've got to get out of here," one said firmly.

Loren stabbed her feet into her running shoes and grabbed her large emergency duffel bag that was always packed.

"We're going out that way," the fireman said, moving her swiftly toward the window.

"I can't," she screamed, shaking. "I'll die."

She could hear crackling and bursting beyond her bedroom door and she knew there was only one choice. But she froze in place and didn't reach for the fireman who'd stepped onto the ladder outside the window.

Instead she saw her ex-boyfriend of two years ago, Odesi, who'd stabbed her and then tried to throw her out the window as if she were waste.

Loren pushed back with both feet. The fireman behind her took the bag from her shoulder and tossed it out the second-story window. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. "What's your name?"

"Loren. Loren Smith."

"Loren, I'm Lieutenant Tim Heath. I will not let you die," he said quickly and forcefully. "You will be safe. Lieutenant Tuggle will assist you down the ladder. Do not look down. Now, go!" Loren closed her eyes, and just like that the nightmare returned.

Odesi stabbed her… The paramedics arrived in time… The doctors saved her life… You will never model again.

Tuggle jostled her as embers of her life sprinkled down around her. "Stay with me, Loren."

Finally they were on the ground.

At the bottom she was placed inside the ambulance and given oxygen. The TV camera lights beaming into the small windows. There was pandemonium and all Loren could register as a mask was shoved over her face was that her safe haven of two years was being devoured by flames.

It was still black out, but dawn would approach in hours. Rob Hood tried to hide his gun when he realized the sobbing intruder was Zoe's friend, Loren, but she'd already seen it. He held up his empty left hand.

"Please, don't shoot," they both said at the same time, he with the gun, she with defense spray.

"I won't shoot you," he said, putting the gun on top of the baker's rack. "Why are you here? Why are you crying?"

"Why are you here?" Her back was against the quartz-stone kitchen counter, and she was braced to run. This was more than deer-in-the-headlights want to run. Real fear filled the distance between them, and he knew she would have fought if anything got in her way. Rob held up his hands to let her know he wouldn't stop her or hurt her, and even in her mania he hoped she recognized his desire to keep things calm.

Gripping his crutches, he maneuvered slowly, careful not to put any pressure on his new knee. "Loren, what's wrong?"

"I called Zoe not more than five minutes ago, and she didn't mention that you were here in her house. Never mind. I'll leave." Loren's accent enthralled him; the weighty resonance of it made him want to close his eyes and listen to her as one would a smooth jazz piece. He knew of her African American/Native American heritage because he'd heard Zoe mention her best friend's ancestry. He'd been house-sitting at Zoe's suburban Atlanta house for a week while his twin brother, Ben, and Zoe took a much-needed vacation. The house had been empty—until now.

Loren kept her right arm braced against the center of her body, her hand balled into a fist.

The exotic woman, even without makeup, was beautiful, with smoldering green eyes and cheekbones that were high over expressive full lips. She looked scared. He knew from Zoe that the former hugely successful runway model had been disfigured by a boyfriend. That she'd become a virtual recluse.

"Zoe owes me an explanation," Loren said, wiping her eyes.

Rob recalled meeting Loren the past summer at his house. His attraction to the fair-skinned woman had been immediate, but his curiosity over her desire to be alone had catapulted her into his thoughts repeatedly over the months.

Though he'd mentioned helping the troubled woman through her difficulties to Ben and Zoe, they'd relayed her refusal. The fact that she was before him now was like a dream come true and a nightmare rolled into one. Loren wasn't at all happy to see him.

"Zoe and Ben went on vacation because they wanted to spend some quality time alone. I'm sure you know how much they love each other. Besides, ever since we solved the robberies in her stores, Zoe's been going nonstop. They both needed some downtime."

"Stop. I don't want to hear about my best friend from you. I don't believe a word you're saying. Zoe would have called me. She hasn't been gone from here in Atlanta that long."

The house phone rang and she watched as Rob picked it up. "Zoe, your friend is here and she's scared." Rob took his time getting to the table, his knee tender because he'd just run on it from the bedroom. "I'm putting you on speaker."

"Honey, please don't be alarmed—" Zoe pleaded with Loren over the air.

"Too late," Loren snapped, and eased over to the table as Rob pivoted on his crutches and walked back to the doorway that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

"I'm so sorry. Rob is there recovering from surgery and needed to be in a place that had a bedroom on the main level."

"How could you forget to tell me that you have a man staying here? I can't stay here. And he has a gun."

"I had my gun because I thought you were an intruder. You can stay here," Rob assured her.

"Butt out," Loren snapped at him.

"Loren," Zoe chided. "He's right, you can stay there. Rob is in the guest room downstairs and you can stay in my room upstairs," Zoe explained. "That way he won't have to navigate the steps."

"Why can't he go somewhere else? I thought you told me there were a lot of Hoods? He's got like two sisters and ten cousins and another brother, besides Ben, right? Why can't he go stay with one of them?"

"A slight exaggeration, but yes, sweetie. I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was in the house, but I was so caught up with the news of your apartment, I forgot. But there's more than enough rooms to choose from, and you both are mature adults. You can share living space. He's a good guy, sweetie." Zoe's voice was speaking in an empty kitchen. Loren had gotten up and walked back through the den to the foyer.

Rob hobbled on his crutches to the stairs and watched her get her things together.

"Loren! What are you doing?" Zoe demanded.

"Nothing, Zoe. We'll work it out." Loren had a gazelle-like stride that carried her back into the kitchen, where she grabbed a bottled water out of the stainless-steel refrigerator, and she straightened up the table until everything was exactly as it had been before she arrived. "Everything will be fine. I'll call you in a couple days."

"Promise me you'll stay."

The woman was nothing if not a whirlwind of determination. I can't promise, but I'll let you know if I go somewhere else." Loren sighed.

Rob had placed the phone on the table, and before he could get back, Loren had it in her hand and back onto the base. She eased past without touching him and was up the stairs in a flash.

"Where are you going?" Rob asked, hoping he wouldn't have to wrestle her for the room.

"To get a change of clothes, and then to a hotel."

When Rob got up the stairs, she'd already been through Zoe's closet, chosen what she wanted and was about to head past him when he stopped her.

"What are you doing up?"she demanded. "Zoe said you're staying in the bed room downstairs."

"I was going to stay in there but the TV doesn't work. Besides, I'm all settled in this room."

Loren's look said she didn't think much of his answer. "You should go home."

"I don't have a car. And I'm comfortable here." He watched her closely. "You look like hell." Tall like most runway models, she was at least six foot, but tonight she looked small in her nondescript sneakers and borrowed sweatpants, her black hair frizzy and unkempt.

He'd heard stories of how her career had ended, but tonight he saw that she was truly only a shadow of her former self. "You've got bruises that are turning purple. They're going to be scary-looking tomorrow."

"I've had worse." Loren took the stairs down quickly.

"No hotel worker in their right mind would rent to you. You look like a woman that's got trouble following her."

Rob was at the top of the stairs and he could see that she'd finally stopped at the front door. He took his crutches in his right hand and hopped down a few stairs, holding on to the railing.

Her face was in profile, tear-streaked and stressed. When he'd been on the force, he'd talked criminals into turning themselves in, but he couldn't bet whether Loren would walk out the door.

"Your best friend wouldn't recommend you stay here if I were some type of crazed psychopath. You can leave, but you'd be hurting yourself worse."

Still, she reached for the doorknob.

"Loren," he chided. "Don't be so stubborn."

Her fingers slipped off the knob. Rob watched her for a few seconds. "The bed is made and the bathroom is clean. If you want to talk—"

"I don't want to talk about anything." The weight of the world looked as if it rested on her delicate shoulders. Her nose was red from crying and her wavy black hair was limp and in need of washing. She seriously needed to cry and then sleep.

"Okay. You don't have to, but I'm a good listener."

"Are you some kind of armchair psychologist? My life isn't Monday-morning football. I don't want to talk! I'm not your friend and I don't want to talk to you."

"Okay!" Rob almost laughed, but he could see that wouldn't go over well. Loren wasn't like one of his sisters, all of whom had thick skin and were used to his teasing.

"Good night." He turned around and went into his room upstairs, closing the door behind him.

He lay on the bed, the lights off, and wondered what she was doing. Three distinctive beeps answered his question. She'd set the alarm and left.

Rob turned over, closing his eyes. DeLinda, his wife, appeared, and he knew it was because she and Loren favored so closely. But DeLinda had been dead for two-and-a-half years now, and he only saw her in his mind's eye. He could no longer feel or smell her. She was gone and his heart was ready to love again, but he hadn't met anyone.

He'd thought he'd been right about Loren, but apparently not. Sleep crept over him.

He could hear the lower master bathroom shower started and his eyes slid open.

Rob closed his eyes and saw Loren and the challenge she presented. He took a deep breath and let it seep out of him slowly. He'd never met a challenge he hadn't won over. He'd start by feeding her.

He made his way downstairs and started breakfast just as the sun yawned its awakening.

Loren felt feral in her anger for Rob Hood. He's probably just like all men: not able to be trusted. Why couldn't he have just left?

He was making it impossible for her to rest. Impossible for her to think or to move on with the next phase of reclaiming her life.

She lay on the bed in Zoe's pajamas, which looked more like capri pants on her long legs, and stared at the locked bedroom door with the chair wedged under it.

Her eyes grew heavy with sleep, and the papers she'd been writing on crinkled under her weight. Rob Hood was not trying to break into her room as her mind wanted to imagine, but he was singing and doing a terrible job at it.

Getting up, she took the hoodie off the chair and zipped it to her throat. Opening the locked door, she was stopped at the aromatic pleasure.

What in the hell did he think he was doing? The kitchen was her domain. Loren knew the thought was irrational. Rob probably didn't remember she was a caterer. She'd only been to his house one time, and that was when Zoe had asked her to cook for them.

Now Zoe was in love with Ben and off gallivanting on some island.

Walking through the dining room to the kitchen, Loren found a plate of food on the counter with a note.

On the deck watching the sunrise. Join me.

He'd made eggs over easy and hot dogs. Her most favorite breakfast in the world.

Her gaze ricocheted to the phone. The only way he could have known that was to find out from Zoe.

Her tongue slid across her teeth and her mouth watered. She thought of her freezer full of Sahlen's hot dogs from Buffalo, New York, that were all ruined now. And here she had one hot dog, no bun, a dollop of ketchup on the side. An all-protein breakfast, just the way she liked.

She picked up the plate and considered her options. She could go outside and eat her food with him and watch the sunrise. Or not.

Suspicion doused the tiny bit of comfort she took in his thoughtfulness. What did he want in exchange for making her breakfast? Sure, he was being nice now, but all men were nice at first.

The day would come when Rob would likely turn into an angry, violent beast, and she'd think back to today and wonder why she'd ever walked outside.

Taking her plate into the dining room, she sat at the table and dipped her dog into the ketchup before biting. There wasn't a better hot dog on the planet. Her back to the sunrise, she saw the beautiful fireball crest the horizon in the framed print of van Gogh's Sunflowers. She wished she'd actually gone outside to see the real thing.

All the work that had to be done to restore her life crowded in her mind, and the perfect eggs she'd been enjoying turned flat when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Rob outside, looking at her, one crutch under his arm.

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