Her Road Home
It’s not in Samantha Crozier’s DNA to ignore the call of the open road. The wind in her hair and the pavement beneath her bike are all Sam needs.Until she crashes into Widow’s Grove and the arms of Nick Pinelli, that is. Nick’s gorgeous and pure temptation – one Sam is determined to avoid. But with her motorcycle totalled, she's here for a while. So she comes up with a plan to renovate an abandoned house. Once that’s done, she’s gone.But the plan quickly backfires. She can’t find any resistance to Nick’s charm. Worse, for the first time, the house she’s working on is beginning to feel like a home.Her home.And she knows that’s all because of Nick.
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No white picket fences for her!
Itâs not in Samantha Crozierâs DNA to ignore the call of the open road. The wind in her hair and the pavement beneath her bike are all Sam needs. Until she crashes into Widowâs Grove and the arms of Nick Pinelli, that is. Nick is gorgeous, and pure temptationâtemptation Sam is determined to avoid. But with her motorcycle totaled, sheâs here for a while. So she comes up with a plan to renovate an abandoned house. Once thatâs done, sheâs gone.
However, the plan quickly backfires. She canât find any resistance to Nickâs charm. Worse, for the first time, the house sheâs working on is beginning to feel like a home. Her home. And she knows thatâs all because of Nick.
âWhat are you afraid of, Sam?â
Nick looked at her closely then asked softly, âMe?â
âNot you.â She felt her lips twist, but it probably wasnât a smile. âWeâve both got things to do, Nick, and my things arenât in Widowâs Grove. Better to just let it go.â
âBetter how? Look, Sam. I know youâre going back to the road as soon as the house is done, and I have no intention of leaving Widowâs Grove, ever again.â He lifted his hand from the passenger seat, turning it palm up. âDoesnât that make me safe?â
âSafe?â She stepped away from the car, away from him. âI donât know that word.â She turned to trudge up the drive, hearing the throb of the carâs engine, and feeling the familiar throb of separateness in her chest.
Dear Reader,
I canât tell you how thrilled I am. This is not only the first book I ever wrote, but my first Harlequin Superromance novel! Iâm happy that a story so close to my heart found such a wonderful home.
My husband and I have ridden more than 200,000 miles together on motorcycles, and have had lots of wonderful adventures. Back when I was still riding pillion behind him, one day a dog ran in front of our bike. After a gut-clenching scare, he trotted back the way he had come, and we rode on.
But I started thinking. What if a girl, riding a motorcycle, was in an inescapable accident? Then, what ifâ¦
The idea grew into Her Road Home.
Californiaâs central coastâthe setting for my fictional town of Widowâs Groveâis one of my favorite places on the planet. I hope that the story gives you the yen to see it. If you do travel there, be sure to drop in and meet Jesse, at the Farm House Café. Then follow the road out of town. Turn in at the beautiful Victorian, sitting perched on a hill like a grande dame, holding dignified court over the tan hills.
Tell Sam and Nick I said, âHey.â
Laura Drake
P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers. Contact me through my website, www.LauraDrakeBooks.com.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Drake is a city girl who never grew out of her tomboy ways, or a serious cowboy crush. She writes both womenâs fiction and romance stories. She rode a hundred thousand miles on the back of her husbandâs motorcycle, propping a book against him and reading on the boring stretches. Then she learned to ride her own motorcycle, and now owns twoâElvis, a 1985 BMW Mystic, and Sting, a 1999 BMW R1100. Sheâs put a hundred thousand miles of her own on them, riding the back roads, getting to know the small Western towns that are the settings for her books. Laura resides in Southern California, though she aspires to retirement in Texas. She gave up the corporate CFO gig to write full-time. In the remaining waking hours, sheâs a wife, grandmother and motorcycle chick.
To Mom and Nancyâthe unceasing wind beneath.
Anything Iâm proud of I do in your nameâthe blame for the rest is on me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For Al, who pulled me out of the ditch, dusted me off and set me back on the roadâ¦and whoâs been standing by cheering ever since.
I love you.
For Gary, who taught me what forever love isâand it isnât what I thoughtâ¦.
For his family, who taught me what one can look like when itâs done right.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
RUNNING AWAY FROM home at twenty-eightâthatâs gotta be a first.
Keeping her movements broad and slow, the motorcycle responded to Samantha Crozierâs shifting weight. Waterproof gear snugged around her, repelling the worst of the weather. Through the visor of her full-faced helmet, the world flowed past in shades of gray and the water-shattered reflections of passing cars.
Samâs mind moved in broad sweeps, but unlike the bike, it didnât respond well to direction, drifting onto dangerous curves that ended in blind alleys.
Iâm not running. Ohio just didnât fit me anymore. Not after Dad died. Besides, how could she become someone new while living in the same house, the same town that made her what she was to begin with?
Sam rolled her shoulders to ease the tension of the all-day rain ride. As much as sheâd enjoyed her first glimpse of the Pacific, the wind had edged its icy fingers into her leathers, making her grateful to turn inland at Highway 101 past San Luis Obispo. A road sign announced Widowâs Grove in five miles.
