As a child, Barbara Longley moved frequently,
learning early on how to entertain herself with stories. Adulthood didn’t tame
her peripatetic ways: she has lived on an Appalachian commune, taught on an
Indian reservation, and traveled the country from coast to coast. After having
children of her own, she decided to try staying put, choosing Minnesota as her
home. By day, she puts her master’s degree in special education to use teaching
elementary school. By night, she explores all things mythical, paranormal, and
newsworthy, channeling what she learns into her writing.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Ryan
Malloy has lost it all. After his fiancée dies in a tragic accident, he enlists
in the army, only to lose his best friend in a roadside bombing. Wracked with
guilt and grief, Ryan finds life unbearable—until a job offer from his former
commander gives him a glimmer of hope. And in the tiny town of Perfect,
Indiana, the man who thought he had nothing left to live for meets the only
woman who can tempt him into risking his battered heart one last time...
Paige
Langford has it all: wealth, beauty, and ambition. But when her boyfriend’s
betrayal leads to the loss of her job and her reputation, she retreats to her
brother’s rural Indiana home to regroup. There she meets Ryan Malloy, a gruff,
hard-drinking loner whose surly temper can’t hide the haunted misery in his
eyes. He is everything Paige never wanted, yet he may be exactly what she
needs—if only they can overcome their personal demons to forge a love strong
enough to save them both.
AN EXCERPT
“Hi,
honey. I’m home.” Ryan’s voice reverberated through the stillness, bounced off
the bare walls, and came back to mock him. He set his lunchbox on the kitchen
counter and leaned over to retrieve his supper from under the sink—a brand-new
bottle of Johnnie Walker Red.
Gripping
the bottle by the neck, he moved to the living room and set it on the coffee
table next to his vintage .357 revolver, the letter he’d written to his folks,
and the picture of his platoon, Task Force Iron, First Armored Division, Fourth
Brigade. One more item, and he could begin his nightly ritual. He retrieved the
snapshot of Theresa from his billfold, laid it down, and took his place on the
couch.
Letter.
Pictures. Gun. Bottle.
Theresa. Reaching out,
he traced the laminated photo with his finger. His throat tightened. God, he
missed her. How different his life would be if he hadn’t insisted they go
riding that morning five years ago. He’d be coming home every evening from some
swank advertising agency job. They’d have a couple of kids by now. A family.
His family. He’d be surrounded by love instead of this soul-sucking loneliness.
Ah,
but he wasn’t entirely alone, not if the hollow-eyed ghosts plaguing him
counted. He closed his eyes, and images from the suicide bombing near Mosul
played across his shattered mind.
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