By: May Williams
Photographer Ian Kroft’s dream is to finish his book on fellow veterans. When his father offers him the funds he needs in exchange for persuading a family to sell their farm, it sounds simple. Then Ian meets Colette and in a flash everything changes.
Cherry Ridge Farm is home to Colette’s family — and to her animal rescue center. The slim, gorgeous veterinarian has no intention of selling. Soon Ian’s chasing after her runaway dog and laughing at her jokes, and he knows that if he lets slip his real purpose, she’ll never forgive him. Ian’s torn between his book and his new romance…all while his father is clamoring for him to seal the deal.
Colette can trust a dog to come back when she calls, but a man? Colette’s been burned more than once. Then a sweet, athletic photographer pops into her life and makes her wonder if it’s time to picture a new future.
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By: May Williams
With a successful career, and his dream house under construction, the only thing missing from Adrien Peterson’s life is love. Since high school, Adrien’s heart has belonged to the irresistible Gracie Sinclair. If only he could make her see it…
Single mother Gracie’s worked hard for everything she’s got. Between her son, her nursing job, and violin playing, she’s built a life that, if not a dream, is something she can be proud of. She’s had enough lovers and family walk out on her to know not to want more. But then Adrien moves next door while his house is being built, bringing with him a tempting charm she remembers all too well.
Adrien is determined to break down the walls around Gracie’s heart. When she reluctantly agrees to a six-week trial relationship, he has one shot to show her just what a dream love can be.
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By: May Williams
Police detective Gabe Sinclair sees broken laws and broken lives every day. The last thing he needs is to add to the list is a broken heart. The law he’s made for himself is never let a relationship get serious—that’s how he got burned before. So when Gabe hears the word “love” he calls it off—even though the word is coming from the lovely Sylvia O’Shea.
Sylvia dedicates herself to running her organic farm and to her hot relationship with a darkly handsome detective. When her boyfriend runs off fast as a cop in pursuit and her past comes calling, Sylvia struggles to rebuild her future, still wondering about what might have been. Months later, an investigation brings Gabe to Syliva’s farm. He can’t resist her lure and offers a no-promises relationship. But no-commitment works both ways.
Will Gabe realize that some laws are made to be broken…before it’s too late?
May Williams is convinced she read every book in the public library of her hometown as a kid. They were wonderful inspiration for life as a novelist. If she’s not reading or writing, May can be found pursuing her other two passions – sewing and running. May lives happily in a little town on the shores of Lake Erie with her husband, two children, three cats, and one oversized dog.
She wrapped her arms around the neck of an all white alpaca, murmuring soothing words. Her flaming hair blew against the animal’s fur, reminded him of how it looked against her pillow early in the morning after a night in her bed.
Without planning to, Gabe took a step closer and reached for her. “Syl…please…I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Her eyes met his, their expression unreadable. Before he could do anything else a radio crackled to life behind him. “Large quantity of TNT found in the building on the southwest corner of the farm. And we’ve got diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate. Looks like the tip was good. You got her, Miller?”
“Please,” Gabe pleaded with her across the inches that divided them, while ignoring the buzz of excitement that went through the assembled officers.
“Cuff her, Sinclair, or I’m going to own your badge.” Miller’s voice cut through the still air.Gabe waited. Several seconds ticked by. Would she fight him or, worse, try to run? He wanted to say something, anything to her, but his brain wouldn’t form the words.
With a defiant look, Sylvia raised her white wrists to Gabe. He grabbed one wrist, spinning her around and snapping the cold metal on her arms, more roughly than he meant to. “Sylvia O’Shea, you’re under arrest for the possession of explosives without valid license and permits. Anything you say can and will...” He droned on, although he no longer heard what he was saying. He brushed the alpacas aside and guided Sylvia from the pen.
She turned, heading away from him, toward her kitchen. She didn’t want him to see her face. He read faces and body language well—too much time as a cop. He’d see the hurt, and she wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“I can’t make you promises,” he said from close behind her. He’d crossed the space, fast and silent. “But I like you in my life.”
Like? It was probably the best she could hope for from him, but she wasn’t sure it was enough. She loved him, and he knew it. She’d made that clear over Valentine’s dinner. But it’d been a long spring without him in her life.
So maybe “like” could do for now. Maybe.
“So what are you…suggesting?” she avoided the word “proposing,” figuring that would send him out the door again.
“We go back, try to pick up where we were…say… in January.”
She spun around. “Just like that?” Her voice was sharp. “Erase what happened after?”
He swallowed hard. “For now. But, like I said, no promises.”
She shouldn’t accept him on these terms. People who knew her would laugh that she didn’t toss him out on his ear or tell him to go to the devil, but other people didn’t live her life. She did, and she wanted him despite the fact that he might not be good for her.
She studied his face, all the tiny imperfections—the scar on his temple, creases on his forehead, scowl lines around his mouth—and remembered how much she loved him and how much she’d missed him, every little thing about him. He challenged her like no man ever had, and she couldn’t let him go. Reaching out, she grasped his head, pulled him to her, and whispered: “Okay, we’ll do this with no promises.”
When she shut off the engine, Boomer launched himself past her and out the open window. His sharp barks sounded through the night air, and Quince’s baying began inside the cottage. Sylvia stepped out of her vehicle, wiping her damp hands on the front of her cotton sundress. She could have worn her usual outfit of jeans and a sweatshirt, but sometimes dressing like a woman had some appeal. After staring at her closet for several minutes, she’d settled on a cornflower blue dress with spaghetti straps. But now, on her final approach to his place, she felt overdone, too obvious in her attempt to look feminine.
Too late to change her mind. Her dog was on the run, and a square of light flooded the porch as Gabe swung the door open. Quince bounded past him, giving Sylvia a cursory glance before chasing down Boomer.
“I brought you something,” she called, her voice quaking slightly. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, keeping his spot on the porch. Shirtless and in old, form-fitting jeans, he was sexy, cool Gabe, not the pissed off cop version she’d seen so much of lately.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he commented, his gravelly tones hard to distinguish among the sounds of the crickets and frogs.“I could do with some help,” she said, climbing out and circling the truck to get the mead. As she lifted the first of two racks of wine bottles, she felt him behind her—close behind her.
“What do you have?” He poked his head over her shoulder, bringing his chin in contact with the bare skin of her neck. She gulped in air as the temperature in the cab started to rise.
“Bottles of mead from the batch we made last winter,” she said, her voice too loud in the confined space. “Since you did half the work, I figured you should get….” She trailed off, letting the softer sounds of the night fill the space around them as his lips brushed her neck.
But then, he lurched back from her abruptly.“Step out of the way,” he said, his voice gruff, commanding, a little flustered. She flicked her eyes to his face, but the shadows were too deep to see his expression.
She moved to the side, channeling any irritation into appreciating the way his butt looked in those jeans while he leaned in to the cab to lift the racks from the truck’s floor. He hoisted them onto his shoulder and strode toward his front door. She hesitated, waiting for a word of welcome.
“You coming?” he paused, his silhouette highlighted by the light emitted from his open door.
That would have to do. It wasn’t exactly mi casa su casa, but by Gabe standards, it was an invitation, and one she wasn’t letting go.
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