Beloved of her father, King Dacian, and adored by her people, the Scarlet Princess Monet endeavored to serve her kingdom well-for the people of the Kingdom of Karvana were good and worthy of service. Long Monet had known that even her marriage would serve her people. Her husband would be chosen for her, for this was the way of royal existence. Still, as any woman does-peasant or princess-Monet dreamt of owning true love-of owning choice in love. Thus, each time the raven-haired, sapphire-eyed Crimson Knight of Karvana rode near, Monet knew regret-for in secret, she loved him, and she could not choose him. As an arrogant king from another kingdom began to wage war against Karvana, Karvana's king, knights, and soldiers answered the challenge. The Princess Monet would also know battle. As the Crimson Knight battled with armor and blade, so the Scarlet Princess would battle in sacrifice and with secrets held. Thus, when the charge was given to preserve the heart of Karvana, Monet endeavored to serve her kingdom and forget her secreted love. Yet love is not so easily forgotten...

Youthful beauty, naive innocence, a romantic imagination thirsting for adventure-an apt description of Vaden Valmont, who would soon find the adventure and mystery she had always longed to experience-in the form of a man. A somber recluse, Ransom Lake descended from his solitary concealment in the mountains, wholly uninterested in people and their trivial affairs. And somehow, young Vaden managed to be ever in his way, either by accident or because of her own unique ability to stumble into a quandary. Yet the enigmatic Ransom Lake would involuntarily become Vaden's unwitting tutor. Through him, she would experience joy and passion the like even Vaden had never imagined. Yes, Vaden Valmont stepped innocently, yet irrevocably, into love with the secretive, seemingly calloused manRansom Lake. But there were other life lessons Ransom Lake would inadvertently teach her as well-the darker side of life-despair, guilt, heartache. Would Ransom Lake be the means of Vaden's dreams come true? Or the cause of her complete desolation?

A chambermaid in the house of Tremeshton, Faris Shayhan well knew torment, despair, and trepidation. To Faris it seemed the future stretched long and desolate before her-as bleak and dark as a lonesome midnight path. Still, the moon oft casts hopeful luminosity to light one's way. So it was that Lady Maranda Rockrimmon cast hope upon Faris-set Faris upon a different path-a path of happiness, serenity, and love. Thus Faris abandoned the tainted air at Tremeshton in favor of the amethyst sunsets of Loch Loland Castle and her new mistress, Lady Rockrimmon. Further, it was on the very night of her emancipation that Faris first met the man of her dreams-the man of every woman's dreams-the rogue Highwayman of Tanglewood. Dressed in black and astride his mighty steed, the brave, heroic, and dashing rogue Highwayman of Tanglewood stole Faris's heart as easily as he stole her kiss. Yet the Highwayman of Tanglewood was encircled in mystery-mystery as thick and as secretive as time itself. Could Faris truly own the heart of a man so thoroughly enveloped in twilight shadows and mysterious secrets?

As Keeley unbuckled her seat belt, she looked up to see a man step out of the cabin that was the Snow Creek Ranch office and start toward them.

Thank you, Santa Claus, she mumbled to herself--for the man walking toward them was unquestionably the most attractive, the most well-formed, the most striking, the most handsome, sexiest man she had ever seen

He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He wore jeans, weathered comp-toe work boots, and a classic barn coat that hung open to reveal the black-and-red flannel shirt beneath it. But it wasn't his manly, capable attire that so captivated Keeley--left her mouth agape and her eyes widened. It was his clean-cut dark brown hair, downright seductive oval, almost rectangular eyes, square jaw, and sensational movie-star smile

Boom-boom-foxy Paisley said as she leaned over Keeley to stare at the man who had reached their SUV and was offering a friendly handshake to her father.

Angelina Hunter was seriously minded, and it was a good thing. Her father's ranch needed a woman who could endure the strenuous work of ranch life. Since her mother's death, Angelina had been that woman. She had no time for frivolity-no time for a less severe side of life. Not when there was so much to be done-hired hands to feed, a widower father to care for, and an often ridiculously light-hearted younger sister to worry about. No. Angelina Hunter had no time for the things most young women her age enjoyed. And yet, Angelina had not always been so hardened. There had been a time when she boasted a fun, flirtatious nature even more delightful than her sister Becca's-a time when her imagination soared with adventurous, romantic dreams. But that all ended years before at the hand of one man. Her heart turned to stone...safely becoming void of any emotion save impatience and indifference. Until the day her dreams returned, the day the very maker of her broken heart rode back into her life. As the dust settled from the cattle drive which brought him back, would Angelina's heart be softened? Would she learn to hope again? Would her long-lost dreams become a blessed reality?

Abducted Forcibly taken from her home in New Orleans, Cristabel Albay found herself a prisoner aboard an enemy ship-and soon thereafter, transferred into the vile hands of blood-thirsty pirates War waged between the newly liberated United States and King George. Still, Cristabel would soon discover that British sailors were the very least of her worries-for the pirate captain, Bully Booth, owned no loyalty-no sympathy for those he captured. Yet hope was not entirely lost-for where there was found one crew of pirates-there was ever found another. Though Cristabel Albay would never have dreamed that she may find fortune in being captured by one pirate captain only to be taken by another-she did Bully Booth took no man alive-let no woman live long. But the pirate Navarrone was known for his clemency. Thus, Cristabel's hope in knowing her life's continuance was restored. Nonetheless, as Cristabel's heart began to yearn for the affections of her handsome, beguiling captor-she wondered if Captain Navarrone had only saved her life to execute her poor heart

Rivers Brighton was a wanderer-having nothing and belonging to no one. Still, by chance, Rivers found herself harboring for a time beneath the roof of the kind-hearted Jolee Gray and her remarkably attractive yet ever-grumbling brother, Paxton. Jolee had taken Rivers in, and Rivers had stayed. Helplessly drawn to Paxton's alluring presence and unable to escape his astonishing hold over her, however, Rivers knew she was in danger of enduring great heartbreak and pain. Paxton appeared to find Rivers no more interesting than a brief cloudburst. Yet the man's spirit seemed to tether some great and devastating storm-a powerful tempest bridled within, waiting for the moment when it could rage full and free, perhaps destroying everything and everyone in its wake-particularly Rivers. Could Rivers capture Paxton's attention long enough to make his heart her own? Or would the storm brewing within him destroy her hopes and dreams of belonging to the only man she had ever loved?

Journey through generations of adventure and romance as three Marcia Lynn McClure favorites blend perfectly in The McCall Trilogy The roundup begins with The Foundling (formerly released as Desert Fire). She opened her eyes and beheld, for the first time, the face of Jackson McCall... Posse up with the next generation of McCall heroes inTo Echo the Past. Stripped of her heart's hopes and dreams, she knew true loneliness-until an ordinary day revealed a heavenly oasis in the desert-Michael McCall... And finally, ride away to dreams come true with a modern-day McCall heroine in An Old-Fashioned Romance. Life went along simply, if not rather monotonously, for Breck McCall. She longed for something-something that seemed to be missing... The McCall Trilogy ...a romantic escape into cowboys, courtship, and kissing the way only Marcia Lynn McClure can deliver

A very loud pounding on the door startled everyone then. Well, who on earth could that be at this hour? And in this weather? Lottie asked. I swear, that knockin' nearly startled me right out of my skin Me too, Mama, Savannah agreed. In fact, her heart was still racing. We aren't expectin' anyone, are we, Lottie? Bill asked. No. Not at all, Lottie said. Savannah watched as Bill quickly strode toward the door. He grabbed the rifle he'd set next to it when he'd entered earlier and then called, Hello? Who's that? A deep, masculine voice answered from the other side of the door. Mr. Dickerson? It's me, Trenner Barnett. Do you remember me, sir? Trenner Barnett? Bill mumbled, frowning as he immediately pulled the bolt on the door and opened it. A gust of merciless wind and blowing snow whooshed into the house in the wake of the man who stepped in....

Genieva Bankmans had willfully agreed to the arrangement. She had given her word, and she would not dishonor it. Yet when she saw for the first time the man whose advertisement she'd answered, she was desperately intimidated. The handsome and powerful Brevan McLean was not what she had expected-he was not the sort of man she had reconciled herself to marrying. This man-the stranger whose name Genieva now bore-was strong-willed, quick-tempered, and expectant of much from his new wife. Brevan McLean did not deny that he had married Genieva for practical reasons only. He merely wanted any woman whose hard work would provide him assistance with the brutal demands of farm life. Still, Genieva would learn there were far darker things, grave secrets held unspoken by Brevan McLean concerning his family and his land. Genieva Bankmans McLean would find herself in the midst of treachery, violence, and villainy-and her estranged husband deeply entangled in it.

Tansy felt a warm blush heat her cheeks as her gaze fell to the tall, totally hot guy standing near the back of the touring group. He smiled at her as their eyes met, and she half expected to see two vampire fangs as part of his dazzlingly white set of teeth. He was truly that good-looking-fictional vampire good-looking. So good-looking, in fact, that Tansy was proud of herself for not stumbling over her words as she continued to give her beginning of our tour speech. The guy wore jeans and a blue flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up to just beneath his elbows. He had short dark hair, a flawlessly chiseled jawline, a square, mildly cleft chin, and shoulders as broad as a barn He was so her exact idea of a dream man that Tansy quickly glanced around to ensure that there weren't any movie cameras rolling or something. The guy was too good looking to be just a regular Joe out for a stroll with the other tourists. But Tansy didn't see any news or TV cameras, so she straightened her posture and tried to funnel her focus back to the group of people waiting for the tour to start.

For Katie Matthews, life held no promise of true happiness. Life on the prairie was filled with hard labor, a brutal father, and the knowledge she would need to marry a man incapable of truly loving a woman. Men didn't have time to dote on women-so Katie's father told her. To Katie, it seemed life would forever remain mundane and disappointing-until the day Stover Steele bought her father's south acreage. Handsome, rugged, and fiercely protective of four orphaned sisters, Stover Steele seemed to have stepped from the pages of some romantic novel. Yet his heroic character and alluring charm only served to remind Katie of what she would never have: true love and happiness the likes found only in fairytales. Furthermore, evil seemed to lurk in the shadows, threatening Katie's brightness and hope, and even her life Would Katie Matthews fall prey to disappointment, heartache, and harm? Or could she win the attentions of the handsome Stover Steele long enough to be rescued?

Life went along simply, if not rather monotonously, for Breck McCall. Her job was satisfying, and she had true friends. But she felt empty-as if part of her soul were detached and lost to her. She longed for something-something that seemed to be missing. Yet there were moments when Breck felt she might almost touch something wonderful. And most of those moments came while in the presence of her handsome yet seemingly haunted boss-Reese Thatcher.

Poppy Amore loved her job waitressing at Good Ol' Days Family Restaurant. No one could ask for a better working environment. After all, her best friend Whitney worked there, and her boss, restaurant owner Mr. Dexter, was a kind, understanding, grandfatherly sort of man. Furthermore, the job allowed Poppy to linger in the company of Mr. Dexter's grandson Swaggart Moretti-the handsome and charismatic head cook at Good Ol' Days. Secretly, Swaggart was far more to Poppy than just a man who was easy to look at. In truth, she had harbored a secret crush on him for years-since her freshman year in high school, in fact. And although the memory of her feelings-even the lingering truth of them-haunted Poppy the way a veiled, unrequited love always haunts a heart, she had learned to simply find joy in possessing a hidden, anonymous delight in merely being associated with Swaggart. Still, Poppy had begun to wonder if her heart would ever let go of Swaggart Moretti-if any other man in the world could ever turn her head. When the dazzling, uber-fashionable Mark Lawson appeared one night at Good Ol' Days, however, Poppy began to believe that perhaps her attention and her heart would be distracted from Swaggart at last. Mark Lawson was every girl's fantasy-tall, uniquely handsome, financially well-off, and as charming as any prince ever to appear in fairy tales. He was kind, considerate, and, Poppy would find, a true, old-fashioned champion. Thus, Poppy Amore willingly allowed her heart and mind to follow Mark Lawson-to attempt to abandon the past and an unrequited love and begin to move on. But all the world knows that real love is not so easily put off, and Poppy began to wonder if even a man so wonderful as Mark Lawson could truly drive Swaggart Moretti from her heart. Would Poppy Amore miss her one chance at happiness, all for the sake of an unfulfilled adolescent's dream?

Violet Fynne was haunted-haunted by memory. It had been nearly ten years since her father had moved the family from the tiny town of Rattler Rock to the city of Albany, New York. Yet the pain and guilt in Violet's heart were as fresh and as haunting as ever they had been. It was true Violet had been only a child when her family moved. Still-though she had been unwillingly pulled away from Rattler Rock-pulled away from him she held most dear-her heart had never left-and her mind had never forgotten the promise she had made-a promise to a boy-to a boy she had loved-a boy she had vowed to return to. Yet the world changes-and people move beyond pain and regret. Thus, when Violet Fynne returned to Rattler Rock, it was to find that death had touched those she had known before-that the world had indeed changed-that unfamiliar faces now intruded on beloved memories. Had she returned too late? Had Violet Fynne lost her chance for peace-and happiness? Would she be forever haunted by the memory of the boy she had loved nearly ten years before?

Oh Do link arms with me, Calliope, Blanche whispered, her brown eyes widening with apprehension. She took Calliope's arm, tightly linking it with her own. The old Mulholland house still gives me the willies every time I walk past it. I hate to think on what might have gone on inside. It's truly terrifyin' Oh, don't be silly, Blanche, Calliope said, feigning calm. Poor Prudence's lunacy...it's sad. And besides, her fiendish acts were not committed inside the house. There's nothing wrong with it. It's just...it's just a sad, empty building. Calliope Ipswich felt the hypocrite, however, as an uncomfortable shiver of residual dread and unease shuttered down her spine, More than six months had passed since the All Hollow's Eve when the dangerous state of Prudence Mulholland's fracturing mind had been revealed to the townsfolk of Meadowlark Lake. And now, each time Calliope thought of poor Prudence and her family, not only did her heart ache for their family's unhappy lot but a chill of lingering horror rippled through her being. In truth, at times Calliope wondered if it had all been simply a bad dream-a nightmare. But it hadn't. It really had happened-all of it.

Excerpt:

Haven's body tried to gasp again, for the intensity of the man's jade-colored eyes seemed to burn through her with a fierceness she had never even fathomed could exist. Yet she could not draw a breath, for when she had gasped at first seeing the man, the lemon drop in her mouth had been sucked to the back of her throat. She was choking After having just warned the children of the dangers of hard candy, she, their teacher, was choking

Frantically Haven's hands went to her throat as she tried to cough up the lemon drop. But being unable to draw a breath, she was therefore unable to push a breath to a cough.

Miss Abernathy? Are you all right? she heard Johnny McGhee ask from behind her.

Haven could feel her mind beginning to dizzy, felt her face was red from the strain of her body not being able to breathe. Her panicked gaze still held the fierce one of the stranger through the instruction room window, and she saw his dark brows pucker in a frown.

She's chokin' Oscar hollered. Miss Abernathy is chokin' on a lemon drop

Is this one of our manners lessons, Miss Abernathy? Nancy inquired.

Again, Haven's body attempted to gasp as, all at once, the door leading from the outside boardwalk to the instruction room burst open, splintering throughout the room--the stranger with the fierce and fiery stare stepping across the threshold.

She's chokin' on a lemon drop, mister Margie cried.

The stranger said nothing--simply strode to Haven, reached out, and slapped her hard on the back. But the lemon drop did not dislodge from her throat.

She's gonna choke to death right here with us watchin' Florence shrieked.

Again the man pounded on Haven's back. Nothing. She still couldn't breathe

Well, then... she heard the man's low, imposing voice rumble.

Haven felt the man's arms suddenly go around her waist--felt more dizzying effects as he flipped her upside down and began shaking her.

Cough it up, lady, the man growled, else you're gonna commence yer dirt nap right here in front of these kids.

Holding Haven upside down with now just one arm around her waist, the man pounded on her back once more. At last, the lemon drop dislodged from Haven's mouth and, seeming to have a will of its own, leapt out of her mouth and went bouncing across the wooden planks of the instruction room floor.

The spirit of adventure and curiosity that dwelled within her bosom was passionate with excitement It was obvious there was something wildly interesting inside the gristmill, and Amoretta silently swore to herself she would discover what it was no matter what. She promised herself that nothing short of torture could keep her from seeing what was inside now that her feet were set on the path. Is it frightening at all? Calliope asked. Shh, Blanche kindly scolded. But Winnie whispered, I suppose it could be considered frightenin'...to some girls. Is it a ghost? Calliope asked in a softer whisper. Oh heavens no Sallie giggled. It's ever so much more wonderful than a ghost Now everyone hush, Prudence whispered as she began to rather creep toward the back outer wall of the mill. If they hear us...well...we don't want anyone to hear us is all. Slowly Amoretta and Calliope followed the others to a place where a board hung loosely from the rest of the wooden planks of the outer back wall of the gristmill. Blanche put a finger to her lips to remind everyone to be silent. Winnie smiled as she took hold of Amoretta's shoulders. Just kneel here in the grass, she whispered. Sallie knelt down in the grass and took Calliope's hand to guide her to follow. Amoretta carefully knelt in the cool grass shaded by mill and trees. Once Prudence and Blanche had knelt down with the others, Prudence pointed to the low, loosely hanging board, indicating that Amoretta and Calliope should look through the open space it presented. Amoretta's heart was pounding like the rapids of some raging river What were they about to witness? Spirits roaming the old mill? Pirates? Outlaws? Her imagination couldn't list possibilities quickly enough. And then, all at once-in the space of a moment and a short gasp-Amoretta Ipswich knew exactly why the young ladies of Meadowlark Lake liked to sneak out to the gristmill and peep through the loose siding board. Oh my- Amoretta's exclamation of astonishment was silenced by Winnie's hand quickly covering her mouth.

Cassidy Shea's life was nothing if not serene. Loving parents and a doting brother provided happiness and innocent hope as life's experience. Yes-life was blissful at Cassidy's beloved home, Terrill. Still, for all Terrill's beauty and tranquility, ever there was something intangible and evasive lurking in the shadows. And though Cassidy wasted little worry on it, still she sensed its existence-looming as a menacing fate bent on ruin. And when a dark stranger appeared, Cassidy could no longer ignore the ominous whispers of the secrets surrounding her. Mason Carlisle, an angry, unpredictable man, materialized-with Cassidy's black fate at his heels. Thus, thrust into a world completely unknown to her, Cassidy found herself trapped, wandering in a labyrinth of mystery and concealments. Serenity was vanquished-and with it her dreams. Yet were the secrets-so cautiously kept from Cassidy-were they indeed the cloth, the very flax from which her dreams were spun, from which eternal bliss would be woven?

Cozy her grandma called in a loud whisper. I'm in the kitchen. Hurry Cozy frowned, and her heart leapt as worry consumed her for a moment. Yet as she hurried to the kitchen to find her grandma kneeling at the window that faced the new neighbor's yard and peering out with a pair of binoculars, she exhaled a sigh of relief. Grandma You're still spying on him? she giggled. Get down They'll see us. Get down Dottie ordered in a whisper, waving one hand in a gesture that Cozy should duck. Giggling with amusement at her grandma's latest antics, Cozy dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the window. Who'll see us? she asked. Here, Dottie whispered, pausing only long enough to reach for a second set of binoculars sitting on the nearby counter. These are for you. She smiled at Cozy and winked as a grin of mischief spread over her face. And now, may I present the entertainment for this evening-Mr. Buckly 'Hunk of Burning Love' Bryant...and company. And company? Cozy asked, accepting the binoculars. Slowly she rose to her knees, peering through the binoculars as she began to adjust them. Mr. Bryant came into focus. He was raking more leaves, but this time he had assistance. Cozy felt her mouth drop open-audibly gasped at the sight of the man helping him. I know Dottie whispered. Va va va voom, right? Holy cow Cozy exclaimed as she adjusted the binoculars further. Who is that? I have no idea, Dottie answered. But he's something you don't see every day, right? Cozy watched as the man, much younger than Mr. Bryant, picked up another piece of wood and set it on a chopping stump. The man splitting the wood had discarded his shirt somewhere, providing a perfect view of the sculpted muscles of his back and arms to Cozy and her grandma...