Beyond
the Shadows
by
Loree Lough
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Elice
Glasser is a widow with three young children to raise. Cabot Murray
is an ex-cop who returns home to Freeland, Maryland, to deal with the
pain of his own tragic loss: the death of his wife and daughter in a
fiery explosion intended for him.
Grieving,
their sorrow brings them together, and a friendship develops that
leads then to explore the possibility of finding love again. But
vengeful enemies and jealous rivals are determined to destroy the
peace and happiness that Elice and Cabot have found in each other’s
arms. Why are their rivals so intent on keeping Elice and Cabot
apart? Loree Lough's latest suspenseful romance is a page-turner!
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“Sounds
like a fair price to me.”
The
guys on the force had nicknamed him Speedy Gonzales because he’d always moved
with lightning speed.
When
he reached for his billfold, Elice flinched. Cabot froze. He’d seen that
reaction, too, in his street cop days. It told him she’d been abused. He wanted
to tell her she’d never have anything to fear from him. At the same time, he
wanted to throttle the man who’d put such fear into those beautiful brown eyes.
The clock tick-tocked some more while he tried to think of something clever,
something soothing to say. His big hands trembled as he thumbed through the
bills in his wallet.
“I.
. .uh. . .1 seem to be a little short…”
“You’re
not short,” Annie said. “You’re tall. Very tall.”
He’d
been so involved in Elice’s fright that Cabot hadn’t even noticed the little
girl enter the workshop. As she stood there, looking up at him with those big
blue eyes of hers, he wanted to scoop her up, give her a huge hug, and kiss
that Popsicle-red smile of hers. He met Elice’s eyes. She’d composed herself
quickly, he acknowledged. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he’d never have guessed
that only moments ago, she’d looked for all the world like a terrified child.
“It won’t take but a minute to run home and
get my checkbook. My cupboards are as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s,” he said,
chuckling, “and I have to do some grocery shopping anyway. I’ll be passing
right by—”
‘“Old
Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to get her poor dog a bone,”‘ Annie said,
grinning, as she recited the nursery rhyme. “Do you have a dog?”
Cabot
laughed. “No. I don’t.”
Annie
shook her head and frowned. “Me, either. Mommy says she doesn’t have time for a
fuzzy kid with four legs.” She headed for the door, stretching the pink straps
of her bathing suit as she faced her mother. “Emi says to tell you the table is
set and Danny’s on his way home.” She gave Cabot a quick once-over, then looked
back at her mother. “Is he eating supper with us, Mommy?”
She glanced from her daughter to Cabot and
back again. ”He just stopped by to order a sign, sweetie,” Elice said. “I’m
sure he has better things to do than eat day-old bread and soup.”
Maggie
had called Lindy “honey” using exactly that same motherly tone of voice. The
dull ache in Cabot’s heart grew as Annie planted herself directly in front of
him and asked, “Do you have any kids?”
Cabot
shook his head, then squatted to make himself child-sized. “1 had a little girl
once, but she died.” It surprised him how easily the words came tumbling out.
What surprised him more was that saying them didn’t hurt this time. Not as
much, anyway.
“Couldn’t
you and your wife get another one?”
He
swallowed. Hard. “I’m afraid she’s dead, too.”
She
placed a tiny hand on his cheek. “Aw, that’s too bad.” Blond brows rose
sympathetically over huge blue eyes.
Cabot
didn’t dare look at Elice. If he saw even a trace of pity on her face, he’d
flee the workshop like a man being chased by a nightmare. Because that’s
exactly what he was.
Her
hand clamped on her daughter’s shoulder, the sweet, maternal tone replaced by
one of no nonsense: “Annie, go inside and wash up.”
Annie’s
brows rose high on her forehead as she folded tiny hands in front of her chest.
“Oh, Mommy,” she said, turning to hug Elice’s knees, “he’s all alone. Can’t the
nice man stay for supper? Please?”
Cabot
resisted the urge to bolt from the workshop, fire up his Jeep, and head back to
Foggy Bottom as fast as he could. Then he realized he was still holding his
wallet. Standing, he closed it and cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, I’ll stop by
later with the money,” he stammered, stuffing it into his back pocket.
Annie’s
bare feet made tiny slapping sounds on the concrete floor as she followed him
to the door. “What’s your name?” she asked, grabbing his fingers.
He
stared at the tiny hand in his. “Cabot. Cabot Murray.”
Frowning,
Annie looked at the big hand that surrounded hers. “How’d you get so dirty, Mr.
Murray?”
“Annie,
if I have to tell you one more time to go inside…”
Smiling,
he met Elice’s eyes at last. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He faced Annie. “This
stuff is called axle grease. You see, I’ve been working on my tractor all day.”
Annie
shook her head and frowned. “Mommy doesn’t like dirty hands.
‘Specially at the
table. My grandma gave me some neat soap for my birthday. It will make you
smell like flowers. Maybe once you’re clean, Mommy will let you stay for
supper.”
“Annie…”
Elice’s voice was a mixture of warning and amusement. “I’m going to count to
three, and if you’re not inside washing your hands by
the time I say—”
Immediately,
the child released Cabot’s hand and headed for the door. “Okay, okay, I’m
going.”
When
she was out of earshot, Elice frowned. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what
gets into her sometimes.”
“There’s
absolutely nothing to apologize for. I think she’s adorable.” And so are you,
he thought. Already, Twin Acres had a strange and mystical hold on him.
He knew
if he didn’t get out of there, and quick, he’d lose all control over his
emotions. He needed time to get things straight in his head. Lots of time.
At
last count, best-selling author Loree Lough had 115 award-winning
books (nearly 9,000,000 copies in circulation and 7 titles that
earned book-to-movie options), 68 short stories, and 2,500+ articles
in print.
An
oft-invited guest of writers' organizations, colleges and
universities, corporate and government agencies in the U.S. and
abroad, Loree loves sharing learned-the-hard-way lessons about the
craft and the industry.
Once
upon a time, Loree (literally) sang for her supper, performing alone
and "opening" for the likes of Tom Jones, Dottie West, The
Gatlin Brothers, and more. Though she refuses to share the actual
year when she traded her Yamaha 6-string for a wedding ring, she IS
willing to admit that, every now and then, she blows the dust off her
six-string to croon a tune or two. But mostly, she just writes (and
writes).
Loree
and her husband split their time between a home in the Baltimore
suburbs and a cabin in the Allegheny Mountains, where she continues
to hone her "identify the critter tracks" skills. Her
favorite pastime? Spending long, leisurely hours with her
grandchildren...all seven of them!
Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
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