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Sports fans were introduced last month to the Aces Hockey series by Kelly Jamieson with Major Misconduct, and this month Kelly releases a holiday romance, Off Limits. Book two in the Recovered I
For historical romance fans, Sharon Cullen’s The Reluctant Duchess ignites as a shy country girl and a hotheaded duke surrender to dangerous temptations. Then it’s on to Scotland for USA Today bestselling author Je
I don’t want this month to end! But the good news is December is upon us with more fabulous Loveswept titles. Until then…
Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from Should’ve Said No A Thistle Bend Novel
by Tracy March
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
After three days of sunup to sundown driving in a wobbly U-Haul truck, Lindsey Simms worried that her hands might be permanently stuck in the ten-and-two position. She’d had no idea what she was getting into when she started this road trip. A year of unemployment had led to lots of changes in her life, but this one was the craziest by far: 1,839 miles, to be exact.
Heavyhearted, she’d left her big-city life in D.C. in the rearview mirror just two weeks after she was offered a job in Thistle Bend, Colorado—population 1,519. Now she’d finally arrived, the truck packed with everything she owned, small-town life straight ahead.
Welcome to Thistle Bend, Wildflower Capital of Colorado.
Lindsey gazed at the sign next to the two-lane road, fighting the emotion welling in her throat. The view might be spectacular—soaring peaks and rolling ranch land surrounding a tiny town nestled in the valley—but nearly everyone and everything she knew were more than a thousand miles away. How could she possibly be happy here?
At least there’ll be wildflowers.
And a paycheck.
She gripped the wheel of the U-Haul as if she were still trying to keep it on the road through the narrow, winding mountain passes. She’d never driven anything bigger than her grandma’s 1970 Cadillac DeVille convertible, the car she’d gotten around in during her high school days in Richmond, Virginia. The memory tugged at the corners of her mouth, coaxing a winsome smile. Spending summers with the top down had brightened her long blond hair with sun-kissed highlights, and kept her slender arms tan. Her mom had always said that Lindsey’s eyes got two shades greener in the summertime.
Lindsey had left the Cadillac behind when she headed for college in D.C., then landed a job at the Smithsonian and lived in the city—no car required. Thank goodness she hadn’t had that kind of debt hanging over her when she got laid off a year ago. Even so, her slim savings account had dwindled too fast, and she’d found out who her real friends were when she couldn’t afford to go out anymore.
She squinted at the sky, the sunset painting blazing streaks of orange, yellow, and pink. Around the next curve, a herd of cows blocked the road, leisurely making their way across. She slowed the U-Haul to a stop behind several other cars and SUVs.
Seriously?
Windows down, she took a deep breath of the cool, thin mountain air. Eager to co
My new neighbors. Eat mor chikin?
LOL. They’re blocking the road?
Yep.
Tell them to mooove it or it’s steak for di
I wish. Miss u.
Lindsey’s heart thudded, and not just because of the altitude. She might’ve arrived, but this was no place like home. No high-rises. No monuments. No museums. At least until she got the Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum up and ru
Chewing on a piece of gum that had lost its flavor hours ago, she tipped her head back and stared at the dingy ceiling of the truck cab. Had she lost her mind deciding to come to a place where cows blocked the roads? She’d really had no choice, since she was determined to utilize her degree in Museum Studies, and work in the career field she loved.
Lindsey rolled her head to the side and caught sight of the envelope tucked beneath her purse on the seat, the return address written in her great-aunt’s pointed script.
Oscar and Tansy Karlsson
103 Checkermallow Lane
Thistle Bend, Colorado 81224
Lindsey had seen her great-aunt and -uncle only twice in her life, but her grandma mentioned them every so often, mostly questioning how they were able to keep a restaurant in business with only one entrée on the menu.
“Not everyone likes fried chicken,” she’d say every time without fail. “And if chicken’s the only thing you serve, then why call the place The Canary?” She’d shake her head. “I always figured Oscar’s family was a couple eggs short of a dozen.”
“It’s a mining reference, Grandma,” Lindsey explained. “Hasn’t the place been open since the coal mining days?”
“Lord knows how. That restaurant keeps them busy all the time—even with just chicken to cook. But Tansy did it to herself. When she accepted Oscar’s proposal, I warned her she’d be marrying that restaurant, too.”
Lindsey reached for the envelope and pulled out the card she’d received last week.
Dear Lindsey,
Your recent thank-you note was sweet, yet u
Fondly,
Aunt Tansy and Uncle Oscar
Curious about all the mystery, Lindsey had called her aunt Tansy to chat. Come to find out, Tansy served on the town council. “You got the job because of your education and experience,” Tansy had said. “Not because you’re related to someone in high places. We want people to give you the credit you deserve. I assure you, things will work out better if you don’t tell anyone you’re a Karlsson.”