Fathers and Other Strangers

“Maybe it’s time I had something else to talk to at night besides myself, y’know?”

His words echoed painfully in her own sparsely furnished heart as they pulled up in front of the cottage.

Slouched in his seat, his right hand still griping the steering wheel, Hank looked at her. “I might prefer to keep to myself most of the time, Miss Stanton, but I’m not an ogre.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

After a moment, she nodded, then ran up the porch steps to the relative safety of the cottage, away from the yearning in those dark eyes, a yearning she doubted he even knew was there. But once back inside, as she stood at the front window, she knew there was no reason not to tell Hank Logan he had a daughter.

Now all she had to do was figure out how.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another fabulous month of the most exciting romance reading around. And what better way to begin than with a new TALL, DARK & DANGEROUS novel from New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann? Night Watch has it all: an irresistible U.S. Navy SEAL hero, intrigue and danger, and—of course—passionate romance. Grab this one fast, because it’s going to fly off the shelves.

Don’t stop at just one, however. Not when you’ve got choices like Fathers and Other Strangers, reader favorite Karen Templeton’s newest of THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY. Or how about Dead Calm, the long-awaited new novel from multiple-award-winner Lindsay Longford? Not enough good news for you? Then check out new star Brenda Harlen’s Some Kind of Hero, or Night Talk, from the always-popular Rebecca Daniels. Finally, try Trust No One, the debut novel from our newest find, Barbara Phinney.

And, of course, we’ll be back next month with more pulse-pounding romances, so be sure to join us then. Meanwhile…enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

a Waldenbooks bestselling author and RITA^>® Award nominee, is the mother of five sons and living proof that romance and dirty diapers are not mutually exclusive terms. An Easterner transplanted to Albuquerque, New Mexico, she spends far too much time trying to coax her garden to yield roses and produce something resembling a lawn, all the while fantasizing about a weekend alone with her husband. Or at least an uninterrupted conversation.

She loves to hear from readers, who may reach her by writing c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001 New York, NY 10279, or online at www.karentempleton.com.

To all my online buds at AOL and eHarlequin, who are always there, even at three in the morning, for solace, support and frequently a damn good laugh.

Thanks for being the best “sisters” in the world.

To Jack and the boys, smooches for understanding why sometimes I really prefer when you’re all somewhere else.

And to Gail C., as always.

Many thanks to Lynda Sandoval Cooper, who helped me see things from a cop’s perspective.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

“Ewww…why are we stopping here?”

Jenna Stanton cut the engine to her Corolla, then glanced over at the sour-faced thirteen-year-old girl she loved with all her heart. Usually. Ignoring the flood of terror now threatening to expel the contents of her stomach, Jenna forced a smile, wincing when her lower lip cracked. From behind her seat, Meringue let out a plaintive mew, protesting her incarceration in her carrier.

“This is the place I told you about,” Jenna said, still gripping the steering wheel. “Where we’re going to spend the month.”

Blair shoved a tangled strand of copper-red hair behind one recently-pierced ear and crooked her neck to get a better look at the Double Arrow Guest Lodge. “It’s a motel,” she said, her words laced with a disgust usually reserved for fried liver and Disney movies.

“We’re not staying in this part. There are cottages down by the lake.”

That got a “yeah, right” look which immediately settled into a scowl. Not that Jenna blamed her; from this angle, the Double Arrow looked like any other two-bit motel—single story, beige stucco, utilitarian doors and windows. Maybe twelve units that Jenna could see, only three with cars parked out front. The cottages she’d have to take on faith, since they weren’t visible from here.

Still, the place wasn’t quite as puke-worthy as her niece would have the world believe. Quivering shadows from dozens of ashes and cottonwoods softened the stark, unimaginative architecture, caressed the occasional plot of perfectly mowed grass and tubs of vibrant annuals. The air was still and hot, yes, but the silence was thick and sweet and luscious, punctuated only by the occasional brilliant trill of some bird or other. From what little Jenna had seen, Haven, Oklahoma was already living up to its name. On the surface, at least.