Join the authors at #MFRWHooks here http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com for some great excerpts. Mine is found and is Seducing the Innkeeper He learns about his son years later
BLURB:
A chance photograph sends Mark Blakefield to Vermont to find something he lost and didn't know about. He has a son. He also has a way to find the woman he fell in love during his last year of college. Her disappearance when he went to pick her up for dinner puzzles him. Though he searched for Christa Parsons for months and never found her. The photograph taken by one of his writers for Good Travelin' shows an inn in Vermont. He rushes off to solve the mystery and claim his son.Christa Sommers runs the family inn left to her by her mother. Besides making the inn successful, she is raising her nine year old son, Davy. She has to deal with her younger, selfish half-sisters and she has reached the end point of her patience with them.When Mark arrives she is stunned. Now she has to explain who she never told him about Davy. Part of the reason was her attempts to find him were foiled by a secretary and the other was being swamped by work. One sight and she fears falling in love with him or losing custody of her son.Can Mark figure why he was looking for someone with the wrong name? Can he persuade Christa he has loved her for all those years and convince her to share her life and her son with him?
EXCERPT:
Mark turned the photos over one by one. The leaves on the hillside had
just begun to turn. Another showed a lake shimmering in the sunlight. He
studied several shots of a large inn. Another showed a garden, a two story
house and several cottages. Buried near the end of the stack he found a picture
of a boy around nine or ten mugging for the camera. He stared at the next
picture. A woman stood beside the boy. Mark’s jaw clenched.
“Damn her.” What was Christa Parsons doing at this inn? Mark opened his
laptop and started a search for directions. Was the woman really Christa? Could
he be mistaken? Had he forgotten what she looked like? Not possible. Her face and her body were engraved in all his cells.
He printed the directions. With the photo of the boy in one hand and his laptop
in the other he strode to the door. He stopped at his secretary’s desk. “I’ll
be out of town for several days. Maybe a week.”
“Where should I say you are?”
“Just a phone call, a text or an email away.”
He didn’t wait for the elevator but took the stairs to the basement
parking garage. He sped from his spot into a traffic nightmare. Honking horns,
screeching brakes and raised fists and middle fingers sent him on his way until
he reached the saner major highway. When he reached his condo he felt as if
he’d fought a war. He dashed inside, packed and settled at the kitchen table.
After zapping a frozen burger he headed to the living room and removed a
picture form the photo album on the coffee table.
Back in the kitchen he stared at the two pictures. Had to be. Why hadn’t she told him? He intended to learn the answer
to that and to a dozen other questions. He tucked the photographs in his jacket
pocket, grabbed a six pack and a tin of cookies. With the burger in a hand he
loaded everything in the trunk of his silver sports’ car. He slid behind the
wheel. Christa Parsons had some
explaining to do.
Though eight P.M. was a bit late to start the trip a touch of anger and
impatience to know why spurred him on. His need for action prodded. He couldn’t
sit at home and brood while he asked his friend, Jules, to investigate.
Why hadn’t she called him? Why had she vanished without a word?
For ten years her disappearance had puzzled him. Had the fault been his?
His thoughts drifted to the days of falling in love. As per the
Blakefield curse one look and he had fallen hard and fast. They’d spent a long
weekend of mind-blowing sex. There had been more than physical attraction.
Their likes and dislikes had meshed. The ending had been abrupt and brutal.
She’d run to her dorm to change clothes. As he’d left to pick her up for
dinner his friend Tony had returned from the beach. His brother, Matt had
called with news. “I’m busy.” Mark remembered saying. “Got to go. I’m in love.”
He’d handed Tony the phone and dashed to Christa's nearly deserted dorm. She
hadn’t been there. The two people he’d encountered had never heard of Christa
Parsons.
Mark revved the engine and backed into the street. Jonas had discovered
the where of the missing Christa but the why remained unexplained. When had
Christa Parsons become Christa Sommers? Had she married? Jonas had called her a
single mother. Was there an ex lingering around. Mark couldn’t imagine anyone
letting Christa go.
At midnight he found a motel, slept until six, ate breakfast and was on
the road by seven. After grabbing a burger and fries at a fast food place for
lunch he continued. He pulled into the parking lot of the rustic inn. The two
story sprawling building had a large screened porch. Two wings spread from the
central section. The number of cars in the parking lot brought a moment of
concern. Were there rooms available?
He shrugged. Didn’t matter. If
not here, he would find somewhere and haunt the inn until he knew all. As he
left the car he paused and surveyed the scenery. The hills blazed with colors.
Scarlet, orange and yellow were framed against a background of dark green.
Though he wasn’t amused, Mark grinned. Christa Parsons, here I come with questions. I hope you have good
reasons for your actions.
Along with his anger he felt a pulsing need. Those four days with Christa
had been filled with fabulous sexy laughter and a sharing of dreams. Before he
left Vermont
he would know what went wrong and why she had hidden their son from him.
He dropped the keys in the pocket of his black leather jacket and strode
toward the entrance. Two young women stepped onto the porch. They wore tight
jeans, skinny tops and boots. Both carried jackets. As they approached he
noticed a slight resemblance to Christa. Their dark brown hair lacked the
strands of gold he remembered in Christa’s hair. Their features were cruder. Sisters? Cousins? He paused at the foot
of the steps and waited for them to pass. Their voices reached him.
“I don’t understand why Christa said no.”
“If we keep on her she’ll change her mind.” The taller of the two halted.
“Always works.”
“It has to. I’ll go buggy if I have to hang here much longer.” The second
young woman’s shrill voice made Mark wince. “How can she say we have no share
in the inn? Daddy was the owner. Mom said so. That makes us as much of an owner
as she is.”
“She has to give us the money. I’m tired of being an underpaid servant.”
Mark stepped aside to let them past. So
all wasn’t perfect in Christa’s world.
The taller young woman scowled. “I’m not waiting ‘til ski season for some
action.”
The second groaned. “At least this place rocks then.”
“Not if she sells.”
“We won’t let her.” She reached the bottom step, saw Mark and smiled.
“Well, hello.”
“Do we know you?” the shorter one said. “You look kind of familiar. Are
you staying?”
“Depends.” He brushed past them. He knew the type and he didn’t want what
they offered. He strode to the door.
Just inside he stopped short. Though her back was to him he had found
Christa. A battle raged in his thoughts with desire and anger stirring for top
spot. His heart raced. His hands clenched. Memories of love-making rose and
were countered by his knowledge of the son she’d hidden from him. His gaze
roamed from her head to her spine.
She turned. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered. He recalled how
they had responded to his touch. The urge to lunge across the counter and kiss
her until she cried for release raged through him.
Mark stepped to the counter. “Hello Christa Parsons.”
“It’s Sommers.” She grasped the counter’s edge. “What do you want?” Her
voice trembled.
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