Nora Roberts Novel Extracts

FROM TESS MERCY’S JOURNAL:
After two days of life on the ranch, I’ve decided I hate Montana, I hate cows, horses, cowboys, and most particularly chickens.

BEN ROLLED, GAINED HIS FEET. This time, as Willa ran behind him she could admire the speed with which he could move. The screams were still echoing when he wrenched open the front door.

IN DEALINGS WITH HER MOTHER — and Tess always thought of contacts with Louella as dealings — Tess prepped herself with a dose of extra-strength Excedrin. There would be a headache, she knew, so why chase the pain?

‘‘THE SON OF A BITCH.’’ Ben leaned on his saddle horn, shaking his head at Nate. His eyes, shielded by the wide brim of a dark gray hat, glittered cold green. ‘‘I’m sorry I missed his funeral. My folks said it was quite the social event.’’

JACK MERCY’S OFFICE, ON THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE main house, was as big as a ballroom. The walls were paneled in yellow pine lumbered from his own land and shellacked to a rich gloss that lent a golden light to the room.

BEING DEAD DID’NT MAKE JACK MERCY LESS OF A SON OF A BITCH. One week of dead didn’t offset sixty-eight years of living mean. Plenty of the people gathered by his grave would be happy to say so.

STILL, flowers and an evening of girl movies smoothed out a lot of edges.

WHAT DIDN’T SUCK, Phoebe decided, was to come home after a viciously bad day and find two dozen stargazer lilies waiting for her.

SHE’D NO MORE than reached the top of the stairs when her mother and Ava slipped out of the TV room with big, expectant smiles.

PHOEBE TOOK HER PLACE at the front of the room. She had twentyfive cops in this training session, a mix of uniforms and plainclothes of varying ranks.