Secrets Of The Rose. Lois Richer
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Название: Secrets Of The Rose

Автор: Lois Richer

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Эротическая литература

Серия: Mills & Boon Love Inspired

isbn: 9781408963067

isbn:

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      “Are you all right?”

      “No.” The tears had stopped. Shelby was drained of everything. How long had it been since they’d abducted her daughter? “I’m not all right, Tim. I want my daughter back.”

      “I know you do. But Aimee is fine, Shelby. We have to believe that.” Tim stared at her, his eyes filled with shadows. “The writing said she was safe.”

      “I don’t believe that. And neither do you. She was safe here with me, Tim. Happy and healthy and loved. How can Aimee be safe away from the one who loves her most?”

      “But, Shelby, you have to have faith. You have to.”

      “It’s hard to keep hoping, Tim,” she whispered. “All the terrible things you hear that happen to kids. What if Aimee–”

      “No!” Tim jumped to his feet. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it! Until we know differently, Aimee is fine. Do you hear me? She’s fine!”

      LOIS RICHER

      Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a book-a-holic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

      Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.

       SECRETS OF THE ROSE

      LOIS RICHER

      MILLS & BOON

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      Be still and know that I am God.

      —Psalms 46:10

      This book is dedicated to Cristopher, who keeps

       digging until he gets the answers he needs.

       Congratulations on reaching your goal.

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to Finders, Inc.—a place dedicated to finding the truth. The idea for this series grew after a return visit to a city I particularly love, Victoria, British Columbia. While I was sitting in the hotel lobby, a woman stopped in, tossed off a cryptic comment then disappeared. And my story wheels started turning.

      Shelby Kincaid is my kind of heroine. She’s tough, strong and competent. But she’s also vulnerable in her love for her only child. As I imagined the pain and terror of a mother whose child is missing, I was drawn to thoughts of God and His suffering when we refuse to walk with Him, to obey His rules. Our human love pales against His. There is no greater love than the Father for His beloved creations, His precious children.

      I hope you’ll return for another visit to Finders. Until then I wish you contentment with whatever state you’re in, courage to deal with the future and most of all love—without it we are nothing.

      Blessings,

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

      ONE

      But he that dares not grasp the thorn,

       should never crave the rose.

      —Anne Brontë

      Victoria, British Columbia

       Monday, April 21

      Perhaps it was the date—ten months to the day after Grant’s abrupt, tragic death.

      Perhaps it was the hour—that no-man’s-land of black yawning silence in which all the world seemed to die.

      Or perhaps it was simply that she wasn’t yet used to being alone.

      Whatever the excuse, Shelby Kincaid was wide-awake. She lay on her bed, bathed in a puddle of moon shadows that washed through her balcony doors, and ordered her mind to shut down, to forget the past and focus on the future.

      It might have worked—except for the creak of one tired floorboard in the hall.

      Shelby sat up, glanced at the greenish-blue hands on the gilt clock Grant had presented on her last birthday: 3:13 a.m. Shadows danced over the walls as a shiver of wind tickled the blossoms of the apple tree outside her window.

      Creak.

      The hardwood’s protest came again, closer this time. Just outside her door.

      The phone on the nightstand sat waiting. All she had to do was pick it up and dial 911. She reached out.

      Reech!

      Her hand froze. The second squeak was barely discernible СКАЧАТЬ