Love Surrendered (Winds of Change Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Julie Lessman

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220 pages

English

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Description

Orphaned in Iowa, Annie Kennedy moves to Boston to stay with her spinster aunt. She longs for romance to fill the void left by her parents' death. But when she falls hard for Steven O'Connor, the man who broke an engagement to her sister, Annie is worried. Will he break her heart too when he discovers who she really is?With heart-pounding romance, intense family drama, and emotional twists and turns, A Love Surrendered is everything Julie Lessman's many fans have been waiting for.

Sujets

Love

Love (disambiguation)

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 septembre 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441239716
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2012 by Julie Lessman
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3971-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
To my beautiful daughter-in-law, Katie
who taught me that “a son surrendered” does not mean surrendering a mother’s love,
but multiplying it beyond my wildest dreams.
The L ORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Psalm 23:1–3
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Julie Lessman
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
Boston, Massachusetts, May 1932
S o help me, if I get caught tonight, Peggy Pankow’s name is “Mud.” Susannah Grace Kennedy braced herself against the cool of the salty sea air and her guilt and hurried down the dark street toward Revere Beach, almost regretting she’d let her new friend talk her into sneaking out of the house. A crescent moon rose while the waning light of dusk cast purple shadows on the boardwalk where streetlamps were just beginning to glow. People milled on the seashore, mere silhouettes backdropped by a fuscia sky glinting across restless waters. The sound of music drifted in the air along with the scent of the sea, and suddenly a tingle of excitement trumped any worry she had.
“Hey, Suzi-Q,” Peggy had said after class last week, “my big sis says we can tag along to Ocean Pier on Friday night.” Her brown eyes had sparkled with the dare of adventure. “Wanna go?”
Suzi-Q. Susannah winced, the little-girl nickname her family had coined, a painful reminder of just how much her life had changed in three months. Her smile was patient. “Peg, it’s Anna now, remember? Not Suzi-Q or Suz or Susannah or Gracie or anything else that reminds me of a past I’m trying to forget.” She battled the familiar malaise that always accompanied thoughts of her once-happy home. “Besides,” she said, her voice trailing to a whisper, “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“Okay, okay, but I refuse to call you Anna. Too stuffy.” Peg pursed her lips. “I should call you Dr Pepper Girl the way you guzzle the stuff when Aunt Eleanor’s not around, but with that strawberry-blonde hair and cute freckled face, you’re an Annie through and through.”
“Annie” chewed on her thumbnail. “I don’t know, Peg, you don’t think ‘Annie’ sounds too young or rural?” she asked, anxious to shed her small-town roots. “After all, I’m a city girl now, looking for a new name and a new life.”
“Nope, it’s perfect.” Peggy wriggled her brows. “And you mean love life , don’t you?”
Annie’s stomach dipped and rolled like the seagulls over Revere Beach, and she gulped down a sliver of nail. Love life. Not just sterile words written in her diary this time back in her hometown of Badger, Iowa, or in one of her many handwritten novels. Nope, this would be real flesh-and-blood kisses from real flesh-and-blood men. She swallowed hard. “Uh . . . maybe.”
“No maybes about it, kiddo,” Peggy said with a wink. “A deal is a deal. You tutored me in algebra? I tutor you in love. What kind of romance writer will you be without research? Not to mention our bet you swore you’d get your first kiss at Revere Beach or I get to keep your favorite sweater, remember?” Peggy sighed when Annie hesitated. “For criminy sakes, Annie Lou, you’re a woman who’s never been kissed, and this is your chance. Besides, Ocean Pier is the perfect place to lose your heart.” She elbowed Annie in the side, eyes agleam with mischief. “ Or your reputation. What do you say, wanna go?”
Did she want to go? To Revere Beach? The Boston hot spot her older sister Maggie raved about in her letters from college? A shiver of excitement tingled as anticipation swelled. What seventeen-year-old girl wouldn’t want to go to Revere Beach? Especially after her older sister’s chatter about the thrill of the Cyclone Rollercoaster, the romantic Hippodrome Carousel, or moonlight strolls on Ocean Pier with Steven O’Connor, Maggie’s old flame?
Goodness, Annie had boxes of Maggie’s old letters hidden away, boasting of good times at Ocean Pier with the “gang.” Names like Joe Walsh and Joanie Pankow, Erica Hogan, and Ashley Roberts were emblazoned in her memory. A small-town transplant mid-senior year, Annie had felt like an outcast, but the moment she’d heard Peggy Pankow’s name in roll call, she’d sought her out, elated Peggy had a sister named Joanie. Anxious to connect with anyone who’d known Maggie, Annie was thrilled when Peggy took her under her wing, transforming her drab small-town look into one more acceptable and stylish. The two became friends, not only because Peggy was crazy and fun but because she was the key to Maggie’s past. A past Annie had no inclination to share with Peggy just yet. No, not when Maggie’s later letters indicated a rift in the gang, convincing Annie that Erica and Joanie bore a monumental grudge against her sister.
Did she want to go to Revere Beach with Maggie’s old gang? Annie sighed. More than anything in the world. After all, everybody loved Revere Beach.
Everybody but Aunt Eleanor, that is, who’d forbidden her to go. A gust of wind brought her back to the dark streets en route to the beach, flapping her bulky cardigan and chilling her to the bone. A group of men whistled as she passed, and Annie instinctively wrapped her sweater close, wishing she’d asked Peggy for a ride instead of walking to the Pier alone. But she couldn’t risk leaving the house before Aunt Eleanor retired, so she’d waited in her room until dark. Because as Peggy had so artfully argued, what Aunt Eleanor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Annie’s palms began to sweat despite the cool of the night. I just hope it doesn’t hurt me . . .
“Hey, doll, what’s your hurry?” Two men strolled from the shadows of a dark alley and blocked her path, forcing a gasp to choke in her throat. One delivered a lazy smile distorted by the flicker of the tungsten lamp overhead, his white shirt rolled to reveal muscular arms. His thumbs hooked around suspenders while smoke furled from the cigarette glowing red between his teeth. “Well, looky here, Grove, this little dish is all by herself. Ya need some company, sweet thing?”
Annie faltered back, cigarette smoke and garbage from the alley making her as nauseous as the man before her. Her gaze darted down the empty street she’d taken as a shortcut, and her throat went dry. A stone’s throw from the Pier, she doubted anyone would hear her cry, not with the roar of the waves, the screech of coaster rails, or music from the ballrooms along the boardwalk. Her throat convulsed as she cinched her sweater tight. “Uh . . . no, thank you, I’m meeting friends at the dance pavilion. They’re waiting now.”
The man called Grove sidled close to drape an arm over her shoulder. “Come on, doll, you’ll have more fun with Harv and me than you will with them. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Fear crawled up her windpipe to steal her air. “P-please, no.” She twisted free, but Harv jerked her back, his calloused hand smothering her cry. Eyelids flickering, she grew faint as he casually forced her toward the alley. “Come on, baby,” he whispered, “you wouldn’t be here by your lonesome if you weren’t looking for a little fun.” He attempted to grind his wet mouth against hers, and she dropped her purse, lashing her head to the side to avoid his lips. Her stomach curdled at the stench of liquor on his breath, and when she thrashed and tried to scream again, vomit rose in her throat. God, please, no.
Harv pinned her arms behind. “Whoo-ee, a regular she-cat, ain’t she though?”
“Let her go . . .” A warning bit into the night, as deadly as the lash of a whip.
Harv spun around, muscled arm looped to Annie’s waist as he squinted into the dark where a shadow emerged, not twenty feet away. Annie cried out when Harv jerked her close, his fingers gouging her side. “Yeah? Says who?”
The stranger’s face was obscured by the night, but the dominance of his tone left no room for rebuttal. “Says an officer of the law, wise guy.” In slow, deliberate motion, he reached into his coat jacket to open a battered leather wallet where a nickel badge glinted in the lamplight. “Let her go now .”
A guttural laugh iced Annie’s skin when the man called Grove ambled forward and spit, fingers sliding along the back of his waistband. With a faint swish, a blade shot forth from a knife in his hand, and Harv muffled another scream from Annie’s throat. “You ain’t got no authority here, flatfoot, so scram.”
“Got all the authority I need, dirtbag,” the officer said quietly, the lightning click of his revolver faster than the hitch of Annie’s breath. “Had a lousy day, scumball, so I’m just itching for a reason to vent. I suggest you drop it real slow.”