A dead poet's beautiful letters don't make Lara Peale like his descendant any better. But sometimes she can't help feeling their hearts are in someone else's hands.
Lady Solebury said, enveloped in a pile of pillows. Eyes clear and cheeks tinged with pink, she looked reassuringly healthy after her day in bed. “And thanks, too, for coming up to chat with me about the tenants. I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed our little coze.” “My pleasure.” Leah ...
Besides Sam’s checking in with her, she’d begun to settle into a comfortable routine with “The Dig.” The reenactment still lay ahead, but with two days of filming under her belt, the prospect felt less scary. So far, she’d hardly had any camera time, and although she would have a big role in the ...
The counterpane lay askew on top of them, dragged from the bed sometime during the night when the fire had dwindled to embers. Despite the hardness of the wooden floor beneath the rug, she could not have felt more snug. She slid her fingers under the masculine hand resting on her midsection, awed...