Seeking True Love
Stunningly beautiful Callie Conner is sick of being pursued by shallow suitors. She wants a man of faith, honesty and moral integrity who will love and value her for more than her appearance. So she flees to her auntâs hotel, where she soon finds herself falling for the handsome new stable hand.
A successful businessman in disguise, Ezra Ryder enjoys working in Pinewood where he is accepted for himself, and not for his money. Growing closer to Miss Callie, he longs to proclaim his love. But revealing his true identity would also mean revealing his deceitâcan he risk losing Callieâs trust forever?
Ezra offered a sprig of pussy willow to Callie with a bow. âI wish this were a rose.â
âA kind thought, sir. But I prefer the pussy willow.â
When their hands touched, Callieâs fingers trembled and Ezra stepped closer.
âCallie...â Her name was a hoarse whisper, a question.
She stepped back. âThank you, Ezra.â She turned toward the hotel.
Ezraâs pulse quickened as they approached the steps. He would take her elbow and help her up to the porch, bid her good-night at the door.
But Callie stopped short at the base of the stairs.
âGood evening, Ezra.â
The finality of her tone made her meaning clearâhe was to come no farther. She climbed the steps and crossed the porch.
Ezra waited until she was safe inside, then exhaled a long breath. He was accustomed to young women welcoming his slightest attention, not turning their backs on him. Courting Callie Conner could prove to be more costly to his pride than he imagined.
DOROTHY CLARK
Critically acclaimed, award-winning author Dorothy Clark lives in rural New York, in a home she designed and helped her husband build (she swings a mean hammer!) with the able assistance of their three children. When she is not writing, she and her husband enjoy traveling throughout the United States doing research and gaining inspiration for future books. Dorothy believes in God, love, family and happy endings, which explains why she feels so at home writing stories for Love Inspired Books. Dorothy enjoys hearing from her readers and may be contacted at [email protected].
A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.
âProverbs 22:1
This book is dedicated with love
and deep appreciation to my church family. To those prayer warriors who faithfully seek the Lord on behalf of my writingâthank you. I love and appreciate you all.
And, again, to Sam. Thank you is such a
puny expression of my appreciation, but it will have to doâunless that fertile mind of yours can come up with better words. Blessings, my friend.
âCommit thy works unto the Lord,
and thy thoughts shall be established.â
Your Word is truth. Thank You, Jesus.
To You be the glory.
Chapter One
March, 1841
Pinewood Village, New York
Callie Conner propped the full basket on her hip, closed the door of the buttery and started toward the hotel, then stopped and stared at the man limping up the path toward her. A logger by the looks of him. She sighed, looked down at the ground and waited. She hated meeting new peopleâespecially men. There was always the staring, and then the profuse compliments about her beauty, and thenâ
âThat basket looks heavy for you, miss. May I carry it for you?â She lifted her head and it happenedâjust as it always did. The manâs eyes widened. He stared, blinked and stared again. He gazed into her eyes, and she heard his breath catch. She frowned, but held back the refusal that rose to her lips. If he was Aunt Sophiaâs friend she would have to accept his offer of help.
The man made a visible effort to collect himself and cleared his throat. âTruthfully, miss, I was wondering if there is work I could do in exchange for something to eat?â
So he was not known to her aunt. She opened her mouth to refuse, but his stomach rumbled, and she bit back her words. She hadnât the heart to turn away a hungry man. At least he hadnât complimented her to win his way, as the wealthy, elite men in Buffalo were wont to do. She ignored her unease and handed him the basket. âFollow me.â Not a very gracious response perhaps, but she was heartily sick of men.
The hems of her long skirts whispered against the wood as she climbed the steps, crossed the wide porch and entered the back door. The smell of the beef stew she had simmering over the fire filled the kitchen. The manâs stomach rumbled again. âSet the basket there on the worktable, then hang your jacket on one of those pegs and have a seat.â She swept her hand toward the smaller dining table against the wall. âIâll bring you some food.â