The Guardian
The doorbell chimed as Sara stepped into a tennis shoe, preparing for her usual evening walk along quiet streets that wound beneath oak trees older than her recently deceased grandfather's grandfather. She muttered an annoyed, "Shoot," and stumbled toward the door with one shoe on and untied and the other clutched in her hand. Opal, invaluable housekeeper, chef and occasional answerer of doorbells, had just left for the day. Didn't that figure?Sara opened the door, expecting to find a kid selling cookies or band candy, or a neighbor with a complaint or a request, or a Tillman resident with a problem that couldn't wait until morning. From the day she'd agreed to run for office, she'd known being mayor of the small town she'd always called home—in her heart, at least—would be full-time, but she hadn't known exactly how full. The fact that more than half the town felt they knew her well enough to drop in unannounced or call at two in the morning didn't help matters any.
What she found on her front porch was none of the ordinary, boring people she'd expected. For a moment, she was speechless.
They just didn't make men like this anymore, did they? Not ... read full excerpt from The Guardian ebook
