In 1963, Neil Vincent, a middle-aged World War II veteran and “Christian atheist,” is working at Westfield Court as a chauffeur. He spends most of his spare time reading.
Mary Claire DeWinter is a young, blind, Catholic college student and reluctant heiress. To secure her inheritance, she has to marry within a year, and her aunt is pressuring her to marry a rich man who teased and bullied her when she was a child.
Neil and Mary Claire shouldn’t even be friends, but the gulf between them is bridged by a shared love of books. Can they cross the bridge to more?
Four feel-good, uplifting romances set in the coastal small town of Chapel Cove, Oregon, where life begins at forty! Escape into a world where past wounds can heal, humor abounds, and love is found again.
A second-chance at love with a single dad for a woman starting over at forty. A single mom’s reunion romance with the teen love she unwillingly parted from. A twice-burned plus-sized woman teetering on the edge of a third chance with a fish-out-of-water city executive. A neighbor romance for a woman looking for home and family and a man grieving past tragedy who meet at Christmas.
All find love, hope, faith, and home in this beautiful collection of stories!
Cat is called back to Stargazer Ranch, but the very first person she comes across is the very last person she wants to see. Levi, rues the day he ever met Cat; she’s the most stubborn, infuriating woman he’s ever known. When Cat is caught in a wildfire, can their passion save them from the inferno, or will everything they love go up in flames?
Zac
For heaven’s sake, I was hosting my brother’s bachelor party,
Is that a crime?
(Seriously, asking for a friend.)
I mean, considering my brother is about to walk down the aisle,
I’m just doing my best man duties.
And sure, technically, it’s a gentlemen’s club…
A private, exclusive, highly coveted one where everyone is supposed to be protected and completely anonymous.
Oh, and did I mention that it’s six-figure stupid expensive?
Whatever.
At least there’s one silver lining to this cluster of a night…
Agent Hannah Evans.
Even as she slides the cuffs around my wrists,
And her fiery eyes meet mine,
It’s clear we both know the truth:
My name isn’t James Smith.
My attorney will have me free in under an hour.
And that kiss…
The one I couldn’t help stealing…
Won’t be our last.