The toddler had Lilyâs eyes.And his hair and dimple.
Justin dragged his gaze from the little girl and met Lilyâs. Emotions chased across her expressive features â surprise replaced by swift guilt that was quickly banished by the defiant lift of her chin.
Then she slammed the door shut.
Shock held Justin paralysed for one stunned moment before he pounded on the door panels. âLily!â
The door flew open.
âWhat do you want? What are you doing here?â she demanded.
âIâm in town. I wanted to say hello.â He couldnât take his eyes off the little girl. âWhatâs her name?â
âAva.â Lily gathered the toddler closer, her stance protective. âYouâve said hello, now I want you to leave.â
âNot until you tell me about Ava. Sheâs mine, isnât she?â
For Christine Flynn, Patricia Kay
and Allison Leigh â such good friendsâ¦
LOIS FAYE DYER
lives in a small town on the shore of beautiful Puget Sound in the Pacific Northwest with her two eccentric and loveable cats, Chloe and Evie. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA. Visit her on the web at www.LoisDyer.com and www.SpecialAuthors.com.
Dear Reader,
I was delighted when I was asked to join three close friends in writing THE HUNT FOR CINDERELLA mini-series â the four of us had a wonderful time brainstorming ideas for our connected books. I fell in love with all of the brothers, but especially with the youngest, Justin, and writing his story gave me a chance to combine my favourite kind of hero â a cowboy â with a heroine from the big city.
The stories are set in Seattle, Washington, one of my favourite cities. One sunny weekend I caught a cross-Sound ferry to the Seattle suburb of Ballard, where my daughter and I browsed the shops along Ballard Avenue. I knew instantly it was the perfect neighbourhood for my heroineâs Princess Lily Boutique.
I hope youâll enjoy reading The Princess andthe Cowboy as much as I loved writing it. And come back to the Pacific Northwest next month, in The Millionaire and the Glass Slipper by Christine Flynn, to follow another Hunt brother hunting for his Cinderella!
Warmly,
Lois Faye Dyer
www.LoisFayeDyer.com
Justin Hunt leaned against the library bookcase, one shoulder brushing a thick, leather-bound volume of Shakespeare. His fingers curled lightly around the narrow end of a pool cue, the heavier end of the cue resting on the floor. His Stetson lay on a nearby chair and his well-worn Leviâs were faded above his dusty black cowboy boots. When heâd dressed at 4 a.m. to work cattle on his Idaho ranch, he hadnât expected heâd be summoned to Seattle for an emergency family meeting.
He tried to remember the last time he and his three brothers had gathered together here at their fatherâs house. Had to be a month or more ago, he thoughtâprobably on the night Harry had had his heart attack.
âWell, hell. Talk about out of practice,â Gray said with disgust as he missed a shot, and the four ball rolled across the green felt instead of dropping into a pocket. âLooks like youâre up, Justin.â
Justin shoved away from the wall of glossy cherry-wood shelves and walked slowly around the antique pool table, gauging the position of the remaining balls. The entire room was brightly lit. A Tiffany lamp hung directly over the tableâs felt surface. A dozen or more sconces gleamed at regularly spaced intervals between the bookshelves lining the walls. Brass lamps glowed atop polished tables grouped with club chairs in comfortable, inviting seating areas on the oriental rugs. At the far end of the library was Harrison Huntâs mahogany desk. Cleverly recessed lighting in the boxed ceiling illuminated the glossy surface, the high-backed leather chair and the semicircle of straight-backed chairs before it. The desk faced the wall of windows and French doors that let out onto the patio overlooking the estateâs private beach on Lake Washington. Across the lake, the Seattle skyline glowed against the night sky.
Justin leaned over the pool table. Heâd long since grown accustomed to playing pool in the luxurious library because Harry had had the felt-covered table installed there when his sons were teenagers. His attempt to lure the boys into sharing the room with him while he worked from home had been successful but whether it resulted in a stronger parent-child relationship was up for debate.
In any event, Justin rarely noticed the opulent surroundings of his fatherâs home. The high-tech mansion he and his brothers had dubbed âThe Shackâ as teenagers had been his home from the age of twelve until heâd left for college at eighteen. But tonight the familiar surroundings seemed to hold a sense of foreboding, as if the room held its breath, waiting.
âDoes anybody know why the Old Man called this meeting?â Justin asked as he tapped the six ball and watched it roll smoothly into the corner pocket.