Trial Courtship. Laura Abbot

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      Dear Reader,

      I don’t suppose there is a fiction writer anywhere who isn’t a keen observer of others. In fact, my family jokes about my shameless people-watching and eavesdropping in airports, restaurants or any other place where folks gather. Quite simply, I find the human condition fascinating.

      Couple that with a lifelong interest in the legal system, and it was only a matter of time before I set a story in a courtroom. A few years ago, my name was drawn as part of a jury pool. The randomness of the process intrigued me, as did the cross section of citizens represented among the potential jurors. What I found especially gratifying was how sincerely each person on the jury worked to try to arrive at a fair and reasonable verdict Were we an unusually conscientious group of twelve? Or is that generally how the process works? I pray we were the rule rather than the exception.

      In preparation for writing this book, I spent several days as guest in the Court of Common Pleas, Cuyahoga County Ohio. I came away not only with renewed respect for law enforcement and courts, but with justifiable pride in my gender. Both the bailiff and the judge who assisted me were women—women who performed their jobs with efficiency, fairness and compassion. You know who you are, ladies, and you have earned my utmost respect and gratitude.

      You’ve guessed it. The romance writer in me couldn’t resist following the question: “What would happen if a hero and heroine met while they were both serving on the same jury?” I hope you’ll enjoy the outcome of this flight of fantasy.

      Laura Abbot

      P.S. Please check out my new web site at nettrends.com/LauraAbbot or write me at P.O. Box 2105, Eureka Springs, AR, 72632. Your comments are important to me!

      Trial Courtship

      Laura Abbot

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my loving and loyal friend Carol

      who asked an important question of me at just the right time in my life.

      

      With heartfelt gratitude for the hospitality and help so freely

      given by relatives and friends, old and new, in the beautiful city of Cleveland.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ANDREA EVANS PARKED outside the elementary school to wait for Nicky. The late October sun slanted through the colorful foliage of the massive oaks and maples lining the sidewalk. Across the street in front of a large Tudor-style home, a teenage boy with a rake fought a losing battle against leaves scattered by a stiff wind blowing in from Lake Erie. She buttoned her sweater. Nicky shouldn’t be too long. He knew she’d be there.

      Shaker Heights, the beautiful wooded suburb of Cleveland, had been a wonderful place to grow up, she reflected, as she watched two girls strolling along the sidewalk, giggling conspiratorially. And the area remained a desirable location for families with children.

      Now, unexpectedly, she was the one rearing a child, the one waiting for the Science Club meeting to adjourn. The one who, no matter how much love and attention she showered on her nine-year-old nephew, couldn’t make up for the tragic loss of his parents.

      Despite living with her nearly a year and a half, Nicky still wore that preoccupied, lost look, still appeared some СКАЧАТЬ