Publisher: Secret Cravings Publishing
Release date: July 1, 2014
Short
Blurb:
Love brings them together. Hatred tears them
apart. One man. One Woman. Between them, a precious child whose future they hold
in their hands.
Back
Cover Blurb:
Everything they say about Tom Henderson is
true. Born in a barn, the bastard son of
a drunken whore, he’s got nothing to offer, and any dreams he might have are as
far away as the distant snow-capped Rockies -- and probably as unattainable.
He’s long had his eye on pretty Lucille McIntyre, but that’s just one more
impossible dream.
Lucille has always been considered the
prettiest and most popular girl in Sunset, but her father’s sudden death has
left her shaken and sad. Now, life seems to be passing her by.
When a prim and proper spinster arrives to
deliver a squalling 3-month-old infant to Tom, his life and Lucille’s both
change. His decision to keep the baby girl sets off a firestorm among the good
ladies in town who don’t consider him fit to raise a child.
Together, Tom and Lucille will do anything in
their struggle for keeping Faith.
Excerpt
1:
That squalling sound came again, and when Miss
Christensen turned and opened the door of the coach, the sound grew louder.
Louder, clearer, and too distinct to be mistaken for anything but what it was.
A baby’s cry.
“Your sister died in childbirth, Mr.
Henderson. She left behind a beautiful little girl.”
“Can I see her?” Tom gestured for Lucille to
join him. She’d heard every word, he suspected. Together they peered past the
somber spinster, straining to get a glimpse of the infant.
Miss Christensen eyed him, checked Lucille
over with an appraising glance as well, then turned and carefully removed the
little blanket-wrapped bundle from the coach. Tom smiled, noting the wicker
basket in which his little niece—his niece!—had made the journey from Denver to
Sunset.
“It appears,” Miss Christensen said, holding
the child up for Tom’s inspection, “that you’re the only family she has.”
Questions flooded his mind. He wasn’t sure if
he should ask any of them.
Lucille stepped up and asked for him. “Her
father? Where is he?” She reached out to touch the baby’s cheek.
“Terrible tragedy.” The woman closed her eyes
as if offering a silent prayer. When she opened them again, she turned to face
Tom. “The child’s father took his own life, I’m afraid. Grief sometimes makes
men crazy.”
Lucille gasped, a cry of utter, heartfelt
dismay. Tom felt it, too, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth. Too
much bad news was coming at him all at once.
“I’m from the Children’s Foundling Home,” she
explained. “The father, your sister’s husband,” Miss Christensen added,
“brought the child to our doorstep, left her there, then disappeared. Although
we tracked him down…” Her voice trailed off.
“What’s her name?” Tom leaned closer. Soft,
crooning sounds came from his throat.
“Lafferty. Baby Girl Lafferty.”
He blinked. “What sort of name is that?”
“Her father’s name was Samuel Lafferty.”
“Yes? So, what’s the baby’s name? Her given name,”
he pointed out. The thought that this innocent babe was nothing more than baby
girl to the people who cared for her brought a surge of emotion so
powerful it frightened him.
“It’s not our place, Mr. Henderson, to—”
“Well, whose place is it?” He reached for the
infant, his movements so swift and sudden, the protective woman had no chance
to put up a defense. “She deserves a name. Every baby deserves a name.”
“Once she’s adopted, her new family will
decide what to call her.” A stricken look appeared on her face. Obviously she
didn’t trust Tom with her precious responsibility. He understood, but he was
kin. Nobody needed to adopt her. She had family.
“What of Mr. Lafferty’s folks?” Lucille asked.
“Do they know about his daughter?”
“He had no family that we could find.” The
woman sniffed again, then held out her arms. “I’ll take her now, Mr.
Henderson.”
Tom took a step back, clutching the baby more
tightly. “She’s got an uncle.” He looked up and smiled. “She’s got a
grandmother, too.” Ordinarily he wouldn’t go around calling any attention to
his mother’s existence, but this was far from an ordinary event.
After all the hardships, all the horrors, all the sufferings and shames of
Charlotte Henderson’s life, this one singular moment could change everything.
What was that crazy story Ma used to tell him, about some bird rising up out of
the fire? As a boy, he never understood it, but suddenly its meaning came clear
in his mind. Bad things happened, but good things could still come of it. Instead
of wallowing in ashes, you could look up, see the sky and choose to fly.
“Please, Mr. Henderson. It’s plain to see that
you’ve got no way to provide for your niece. I suppose I should have taken time
to make the trip on my own to assess the conditions, but I was hopeful you’d be
in a position to take her. Optimism is one of my weaknesses, I daresay.”
She didn’t look too optimistic in Tom’s eyes.
He couldn’t imagine her ever having a positive outlook about anything.
But this child! She needed hope. She deserved
bright blue skies and sunny days. She deserved butterflies and flowers, and the
sweet promise of spring. Not some strait-laced, tightly-corseted old biddy who
thought of her as nothing more than baby girl.
Tom looked down at the tiny bundle he held in
his arms. So tiny, yet so perfect. He marveled over the little fingers,
touching each one by one. When the baby’s hand closed around his big thumb, he
felt a tugging at his heart so real, so undeniable, he suddenly couldn’t find
his breath.
“Excuse me, Mr. Henderson.” Edith
Christensen’s nasally voice grated on Tom’s nerves. “I have to leave now. It’s
a long trip back to Denver. You need to give me the child.”
“Not yet, ma’am. She’s my niece. I want a
little time with her.” He stroked one soft, pink cheek and was rewarded with a
gurgling, cooing smile. “She likes me,” he said, glancing toward Lucille.
And he liked her. No, he loved her.
This precious life wrapped in a thick gray blanket was kin. Not his own child,
but a child who shared his blood, all the same. She was Sally’s daughter, and
Sally was gone now. This sweet, nameless angel was all that was left to him of
his sister’s kindness, her goodness, her own innocence.
He wished he could have taken better care of
Sally, could have helped her and given her all she needed, but he’d failed her.
Too young, too mixed-up, and too bitter about his own life, Tom hadn’t been
able to save Sally from the wretched evils of their childhood.
But he’d damned sure save this baby.
“I’m not giving her back,” he said in a quiet
voice. “I’m going to keep her.”
Excerpt
2:
Lucille grabbed a pad and pencil. Quickly she
scribbled a few figures on the page. “It’s three pennies a yard. That means it
would be about twelve cents, total.”
Small price to pay, he figured, counting the
coins out. As she reached to wrap the ribbons in tissue, he put his hand on
hers. “No need. They’re yours.”
Her chin came up. “Mine? Well, that’s
foolishness if I’ve ever heard it. I don’t need you buying hair ribbons for me,
Tom. Or doing anything else for me.” She bustled out from behind the sales
counter and pointed to the door. “Really, you need to go. This is a dressmaking
shop, and I don’t think you have much use for fancy skirts.” She eyed him up
and down.
Tom noticed the way her gaze lingered on one
certain part of his anatomy. He liked the hungry way she looked at him, and he
took a step closer.
“You’re sure in an awful big hurry to get me
out of here, and I think I know why.”
“I already told you. I’m busy.”
“No, you’re not. You’re scared.”
“Scared?” Her voice rose an octave on the
single syllable. “Scared of what? You? Not in the least.”
“You’re scared of yourself. Scared of what
you’re feeling right now.”
“You’re talking rubbish.”
He moved closer still, reached out, and
stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “You know, your skin’s as smooth
and soft as that velvet ribbon, and every bit as pretty.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away.
“Whether you admit it or not, you are afraid.
You’re afraid of all those crazy feelings stirring inside you right now. Afraid
that if you don’t get me out of here real quick, you might do something crazy,
something you might later regret.”
“Like what?” She looked at him with hope in
her eyes and an invitation on her lips.
“Like let me kiss you.”
“You’ve kissed me before. It wasn’t anything—”
He silenced her as he pressed his lips to
hers. The pleasure of her hot mouth was almost too much for him to bear. His
arms closed around her and she moved easily into his embrace. Waves of desire
undulated through him. He tightened his hold, and her body responded at once,
yielding to him, pressing against him. Tom groaned. He wanted to hold Lucille
forever, to make her part of his world, part of his life, part of his future.
No woman had ever affected him the way Lucille
did.
When she fought against him, it made him
stronger. When she showed kindness, it made him proud. With Lucille at his
side, he could be a good man, a wise man, a man whose life was
truly worth living.
He felt her shudder. The way her body moved
against his sent quivers down his spine, rippling through his muscles and
arousing him.
Her hands went rigid against his chest. She
tore away, her breathing ragged. “Please, stop.” With her hand pressed to her
mouth, Lucille staggered away from him. Shaking her head back and forth, she
gasped. “Tom, we mustn’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Things between us are too complicated, that’s
why.”
Raking a hand through his sandy-blond hair, he
fought to regain control. “It’s only complicated because that’s how you’re making
it. Why don’t you just admit the truth?”
“About what?”
“About us. About kissing. You like it,
Lucille. I know you do.”
The flush on her cheeks gave her complexion a
soft glow. “Oh, all right. Yes, I like it when you kiss me.” A sigh fluttered
from her lips. She moved closer and held her hands out to him. “I like it a
lot. Maybe you’re right. I am scared, Tom.”
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Author
Bio:
Christina Cole will always be grateful to her
grandfather who patiently held her on his lap and taught her to read. He also
told her stories of his own childhood and stirred her imagination with scenes
from days gone by. From him, she developed not only a love of words and
story-telling, but a deep appreciation for history and a longing to learn more
about the past.
Today, she still loves reading, and loves
sharing her own stories about men and women and the romance of an earlier time.
Her romantic stories have been published
online and in print, and she's also published inspirational pieces, poetry, and
essays.
She is happily married to the love of her
life, and lives a simple, uncomplicated life in a small mid-western town.
Social
Media Links
Official website: Christina Cole Romance
Website for “The Sunset Series”
Facebook Author Page:
Christina Cole’s Love Notes
Other
novels by Christina Cole
Irresistible
Happily Ever After
Summertime
The Wrong Woman
Not the Marrying Kind – Book 1, The Sunset
Series
The Vision of a Viscountess
