âIâm sorry, Angie, reallyâ â
âI know.â She couldnât look at him and stay focused, so she made herself let his hand go. A few more inches between them would be a good idea, too. She couldnât make her body scoot away, so she grabbed on to harsh realities to create the distance she needed. âRunning around town with a baby sheâs not supposed to have might just get Maggie killed.â
âThen help me find her before anyone else does.â The desperation in Tonyâs expression drew her in even further. âHelp me protect my niece.â
She gave up her fight not to put her arms around him. Focusing on only the job had never seemed more impossible. Tonyâs initial resistance melted into the kind of rib-crushing hug that confirmed how much heâd needed the comfort she was offering.
No man had ever felt more right in her arms.
Dear Reader,
We live our lives. We work hard. We look at the world around us, decide whatâs next and strike a new course. Life goes on, and so do we. Most of the time.
But a dayâs hard work sometimes reveals less about where we want to go, and instead mirrors what weâve left behind. The past we refuse to deal with. The disappointments that never really go away.
The Runaway Daughter takes us back to Oakwood, Georgia, and to the exciting small-town lives of the Rivers family. Tony Rivers is a sheriffâs deputy. A good olâ boy whoâs the life of every party. Itâs either laugh or look back, and Tony never looks back. Chief Deputy Angie Carter, whoâs working hard to forget her own disappointments, becomes his unwilling accomplice as he fights to protect his brotherâs child.
Tonyâs finished with losing the people he cares about, and he canât keep his niece safe without Angieâs help. Looks as if the past is tired of being ignored, and so is the attraction thatâs been brewing between these two for months.
I love to hear from my readers. Be sure to let me know what you think of The Runaway Daughter at www.annawrites.com.
Sincerely,
Anna
AndrewâFor all youâve been, every precious day you give,
and the future shining in each beautiful smile.
TOAâYou were there for the very first sentence.
May every blessing given be returned hundredfold. This is your year, sweetie!
TanyaâTo believe, to dream, to laugh. Your friendship is
the well I return to time and again. The stars are yours, my friend. Breathe deep and enjoy the ride.
I SHOULDNâT BE DOING this.
Oakwood Chief Deputy Angie Carter had been trying to talk herself out of trouble, and the dingy pool hall, for over an hour.
The voice in her head knew what it was talking about. Sheâd let things go too far, which made her an idiot. Playing with fire like this would only get her singed.
But tonight, her letâs be reasonable voice wasnât having its say.
Her hand slid higher, on a mission she couldnât stop. Up miles of strong muscles and across the soft, warm cotton that covered the chest leaning into hers. His arms pulled her more solidly against him. Her fingers tangled in his dark brown hair.
I shouldnât be doing thisâ¦.
Oh yes, you should.
âMmm.â His warm lips nibbled from her ear down her neck. âSo this is what a lady sheriff tastes like.â
âNotâ¦â She gasped as his hands skimmed the undersides of her breasts. âNot the new sheriff yet. But stillââ
His mouth settled over hers, swallowing the second thoughts he wouldnât let her finish. At thirty-five she was ten years his senior, more experienced both in the department and in life. With more at stake. And heâ¦he was too young, and too handsome, and far too good at kissing to heed warnings sheâd stopped listening to hours ago.
Iâm not going to do thisâ¦.
âNâ¦No.â She pushed away from the wall of muscle pressed against her, the craving to lose herself in its heat nearly her undoing.
Hell yeah, she wanted this. Sheâd wanted it for months. But what she wanted and the crumbs life actually threw her way were two different things. A gem of reality sheâd learned three years ago, when the life sheâd had by the tail had crashed and burned around her.
She pulled away. A traitorous sigh escaped when his lips grazed her cheek. âNo more. We shouldnât⦠We canâtââ
âFeels a lot like we can to me.â His eyes twinkled with mischief, but he loosened his hold and let her slide to the far corner of the booth.
She glanced around the shadowy bar, relieved that the Eight Ball was deserted. It was late at night in the middle of a work week, and every other sane person in town was home in bed.
âNo oneâs here to see your fall from grace, darlinâ.â He followed her gaze. His deep chuckle made her ache to pull him closer again. He looked too amazing in his Wranglers and vintage Harley-Davidson T-shirt. Too much like something she could get used to wanting.