Frankie's Back in Town
Doesn't take much to start the talk in this town. And no one knows that better than Francesca Raffa.Once the town's rebel and favorite topic of conversation, she's returned home a responsible single mom and respectable executive. Nothing to whisper about here. That is until police chief Jack Sloan pays her a visit–or three. Suddenly the rumor mill is spinning with speculation about exactly what is going on between Francesca and Jack. Some think she's the prime suspect in a criminal investigation. And others…well, they think there's something a little more intimate happening. If the heated looks Jack sends Francesca's way are any indicator, that second group might be closer to the truth!
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Francescaâs heart stopped beating
It simply plain stopped right in her chest. Jack was ignoring everything sheâd told him, all the boundaries sheâd set. She had no reply, nothing but that swelling feeling in her chest, a feeling of such excitement that she had to consciously remember to breathe.
âFrancesca, Francesca,â Jack said in a voice that told her he knew exactly the effect he was having on her, told her he had no intention of playing by her rules. âJust because Iâm under your spell doesnât mean Iâll throw the investigation.â
Then he laughed softly, a sound that filtered through her like the warmth from the fire, and Francesca knew right then and there that she was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
Dear Reader,
Where is Bluestone Mountain? In my imagination itâs a picturesque town sandwiched between Woodstock and Bearville in the Catskill Mountains. In my heart itâs the place where I explored my imagination and learned to dream.
I was born and reared in New York City and spent my youth running back and forth between Brooklyn and the Mid-Hudson Valley. When the time came to create a whole new worldâ¦I returned to my roots.
Frankieâs Back in Town is my first title for Harlequin Superromance, and Iâm thrilled to be writing stories that reflect situations and struggles most women know intimately. For Francesca, returning home means not only facing the past, but taking a few chances on the future. She rises to unexpected challenges, learns a few things about herself along the way, and finds love where she never expected. Not so different from real life, is it? Hence my new catchphrase: Ordinary women. Extraordinary romance. Sigh. Life is good.
I hope you enjoy Francesca and Jackâs love story. I love hearing from readers. Visit me at www.jeanielondon.com.
Peace and blessings,
Jeanie London
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jeanie London writes romance because she believes in happily-ever-afters. Not the âlove conquers allâ kind, but the âwe love each other so we can conquer anythingâ kind. Which is why she loves Harlequin Superromanceâstories about real women tackling real life to fall in love. She makes her home in sunny Florida with her romance-hero husband, their two beautiful and talented daughters and a menagerie of strays.
A very special thanks to Wanda ;-)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
JACK SLOAN, CHIEF OF POLICE, set the phone back in the cradle then reached for the intercom that connected him directly to his assistant.
âThe mayorâs on his way over,â he said. âJust tell him to come in when he gets here and hold my calls.â
âYou got it, Chief,â the upbeat voice shot back.
Jack got up from the desk and went to stretch before the window. He had a view of a street lined by shop fronts whose colorful awnings were now indistinct beneath a leaden gray sky. Mounds of dingy snow covered the curbs and spilled over onto sidewalks of the main street that wound through town center and bisected with Route 45, the primary highway into the valley.
Once a quarry town, Bluestone Mountain was now a fair-sized community, popular with writers, artists, musicians and sports enthusiasts because it lacked the commerciality of the nearby, and more widely known, hamlets of Woodstock and Bearsville.
Even now, in the dead of winter, folks came to town to enjoy some of the best skiing around. When the ice finally melted, Bluestone would attract people from all over who wanted to enjoy a renowned Catskill summer.
A good portion of his townâs population consisted of part-timers from Manhattanâbusiness people eager to escape the city for densely wooded hillsides and mountain-tops, sports and outdoor activities, all only a convenient few hours north.
Another portion of his townâs demographic was made up of deeply rooted locals. Well over a century ago, people had surged to the area when miners had discovered feldspathic greywacke, the rare, dark blue sandstone that made Bluestone Mountain unique, and wealthy.
Even now, when the whole Catskill region had been earmarked as part of New Yorkâs Forest Preserve, not all the land around here was publicly owned, which made Jackâs jurisdiction an interesting mix of big- and small-town politics. A mix that had its share of plusses and minuses. A plus was the freedom to run his department the way he saw fit. A minus was being at the beck and call of the good old boy network. Some folks considered themselves the local monarchy.
Like the mayor.
Gary Trant was Bluestone homegrownâAshokan High class of â92, a year Jackâs senior and, also like Jack, an alumnus of the football team. Those were the kinds of ties that bound tight. Since the mayor had appointed Jack, he could pick up his phone any time and inform his police chief heâd be dropping by to discuss whatever was on his mind.
