âJohnston warms your heart and tickles your fancy.â
âNew York Daily News
âSkillful storyteller Johnston makes what would in lesser hands be melodrama, compellingly realistic.â
âBooklist
âRomance devotees will find Johnston lively and well-written, and her characters perfectly enchanting.â
âPublishers Weekly
âJoan Johnston continually gives us everything we wantâ¦a story that you wish would never end, and lots of tension and sensuality.â
âRT Book Reviews
âJoan Johnston [creates] unforgettable subplots and characters who make every fine thread weave into a touching tapestry.â
âAffaire de Coeur
âJohnstonâs characters struggle against seriously deranged foes and face seemingly insurmountable obstacles to true love.â
âBooklist
âA guaranteed good read.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
CHERRY WHITELAW was in trouble. Again. She simply couldnât live up to the high expectations of her adoptive parents, Zach and Rebecca Whitelaw. She had been a Whitelaw for three years, ever since her fifteenth birthday, and it was getting harder and harder to face the looks of disappointment on her parentsâ faces each time they learned of her latest escapade.
This time it was really serious. This was about the worst thing that could happen to a high school girl. Well, the second worst. At least she wasnât pregnant.
Cherry had been caught spiking the punch at the senior prom this evening by the principal, Mr. Cornwell, and expelled on the spot. The worst of it was, she wasnât even guilty! Not that anyone was going to believe her. Because most of the time she was.
Her best friend, Tessa Ramos, had brought the pint bottle of whiskey to the dance. Cherry had been trying to talk Tessa out of spiking the punchâhad just taken the bottle from Tessaâs handâwhen Mr. Cornwell caught her with it.
He had snatched it away with a look of dismay and said, âIâm ashamed of you, young lady. Itâs bad enough when your behavior disrupts class. An irresponsible act like this has farther-reaching ramifications.â
âBut, Mr. Cornwell, I was onlyââ
âYouâre obviously incorrigible, Ms. Whitelaw.â
Cherry hated being called that. Incorrigible. Being incorrigible meant no one wanted her because she was too much trouble. Except Zach and Rebecca had. They had loved her no matter what she did. They would believe in her this time, too. But that didnât change the fact she had let them down. Again.
âYouâre expelled,â Mr. Cornwell had said, his rotund face nearly as red as Cherryâs hair, but not quite, because nothing could ever be quite that red. âYou will leave this dance at once. Iâll be in touch with your parents tomorrow.â
No amount of argument about her innocence had done any good, because she had been unwilling to name her best friend as the real culprit. She might be a troublemaker, but she was no rat.
Mr. Cornwellâs pronouncement had been final. She was out. She wasnât going to graduate with the rest of her class. She would have to come back for summer school.
Rebecca was going to cry when she found out. And Zach was going to get that grim-lipped look that meant he was really upset.
Cherry felt a little like crying herself. She had no idea why she was so often driven to wild behavior. She only knew she couldnât seem to stop. And it wasnât going to do any good to protest her innocence this time. She had been guilty too often in the past.
âHey, Cherry! You gonna sit there mopinâ all night, or what?â
Cherry glanced at her prom date, Ray Estes. He lay sprawled on the grass beside her at the stock pond on the farthest edge of Hawkâs Pride, her fatherâs ranch, where she had retreated in defeat. Her full-length, pale green chiffon prom dress, which had made her feel like a fairy princess earlier in the evening, was stained with dirt and grass.
Rayâs tuxedo was missing the jacket, bow tie, and cummerbund, and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway to his waist. He was guzzling the fourth can of a six-pack of beer he had been slowly but surely consuming since they had arrived at the pond an hour ago.
Cherry sat beside him holding the fifth can, but it was still nearly full. Somehow she didnât feel much like getting drunk. She had to face her parents sometime tonight, and that would only be adding insult to injury.
âCâmon, Cherry, give us a liâl kiss,â Ray said, dragging himself upright with difficulty and leaning toward her.
She braced a palm in the smooth center of his chest to keep him from falling onto her. âYouâre drunk, Ray.â
Ray grinned. âShhure am. How âbout that kiss, Cher-ry?â