The sequel to Falling Roses (AuthorHouse, 2005), The Years Between will let you discover more romance, suspense, drama, a secret baby, and a few love triangles all wrapped into one.
What happens when your mother dies and twelve years later, you find her at a psychiatric hospital? You kidnap her and bring her home to Dad. Jackie Ravolie and her half-brother Robbie Shedel decide to do just that.
What does dad decide after he closes the refrigerator door and finds his dead wife standing there? Believing that she’s just a hallucination, John talks to her.
After proving to the world that Gabrielle Ravolie is indeed alive, the mob chosen to carry out Bernadette Malone’s vengeance prepares to avenge her death. But this time, they’re going to try without Claycondine.
What will happen to the Ravolie and the Shedel family next? And whom will John seek out this time to keep the love of his life alive?
The sequel to Falling Roses (AuthorHouse, 2005), The Years Between will let you discover more romance, suspense, drama, a secret baby, and a few love triangles all wrapped into one.
Falling Roses: The Years Between is primarily a romance with a suspenseful twist that will keep you entertained and guessing from cover to cover.
Excerpt
WEARING A HOSPITAL NIGHTGOWN, Kathryn Morris stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She was a woman, not yet twenty-one. Short black hair; blue eyes. With her lips pursed, she wouldn’t form a smile or a frown. Creasing the ends of the nightgown to her sides, she gazed down at her nakedness.
Basketball-size, she thought, while looking at her belly. She placed her hands firmly around it, while gently rubbing her stretching abdomen.
She was nine months pregnant. That’s what they had told her. Soon, she wouldn’t be pregnant nor would she be holding a baby in her arms. She felt her unborn child’s kick and watched the child’s elbow snail it’s way underneath her skin. Perhaps, at the moment, he or she wanted to suck its thumb.
Kathryn tied the front of her nightgown and sat on the bed behind her.
She waited.
She had kept her body in shape, watched her diet, and stayed healthy. There was something about this baby, a connection perhaps. A correlation to her past. A link to her future.
She could dress and run from this house. But it was too late. The induction of labor had begun. If she ran now, she’d be able to keep her baby forever. She could run to a hospital. No, they’d find her.
She had nothing that she knew of. No possessions, no money, nothing. How could she run? In what direction would she go? She knew no one. She had no other family. Nor did she have any friends. The ones who called themselves her parents seemed to be. Yet, there were days when she wished they weren’t.
Her father appeared to be a good man. Her mother was loving and kind. They traveled a lot. He spoke at conferences. Kathryn had attended one of his lectures once, before her pregnancy was revealed.
Her pregnancy had caused them embarrassment. But, it was her life as a prostitute, which was causing them shame.
She couldn’t remember her life. Let alone being a prostitute. Why did she do that? Still, she wondered. Didn’t she have some other skills? They had helped her with her past as best as they could. But somehow, she was suffering from a memory lapse. Some traumatic event had caused her to forget¾everything.
It was almost as if she was born only seven months earlier. She awakened in a dark motel room with two police officers standing over her. Their flashlights shined into her face. After opening her eyes to the bright light, she noticed the cocaine smeared on a small-size mirror on the nightstand beside her.
Zara’s Bois:
When the powers-that-be make the decision to return a selfish party-girl to Earth on three missions of redemption, can romance and mayhem be far behind? One hot and trendy gay nightclub, two bickering angels and three unlikely p
Edward Rutherford is prepared to do just about anything to escape an arranged marriage to a woman he despises. But his brilliant plan to feign insanity has some rather unwanted consequences...
