To my readers - I want you all to know I do not take illness or death lightly. My heart goes out to any, and all, who have suffered with a serious illness or the loss of a loved one. As an author, my job is to entertain. I write about fictional characters who may face some of the same real life challenges some of you have. I hope by reading a book--any book--you will be able to forget about your difficulties and lose yourself in a story, even if only for a few hours. Thank you so much for reading my books.
Love, Lies and High Heels continues to be my most popular of all my books, which is why I decided to write more books featuring secondary characters from the first book.
Make sure to grab them all:
Love, Lies and High Heels
Love, Lies and Compromise
Love, Lies and Alibis
Love, Lies and Dirty Deals
Love, Lies and Gray Skies
Love, Lies and Agonize
Love, Lies and Sex Appeal
Love, Lies and Bow Ties
"You want me to do what?" Luke Galloway demanded, while focusing hard on his friend Sam. "Have you totally lost your mind? I'm not going to tell your daughter you're dying!"
"It's the only way she'll come." Sam Paris held Luke's gaze and refused to back down. He ran a hand over his red and silver whiskers, took a long drink of bourbon, then set the empty glass down on the kitchen table. "You owe me."
Luke hated it when Sam tried to make him feel guilty, which the old coot did often enough. Of course, Luke owed Sam. For a lot of things. But the implication still rankled him. Releasing his breath in a huff, he said, "Fine. I'll do it. But what are you going to do when she finds out you lied to her? Do you actually think she's going to stick around then?"
Sam grinned, and his green eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "We'll worry about that when the time comes. All I want right now is for you to go get her and bring her back to the farm. This is where she belongs. Right here, with me. I'm the only family she has left now."
Reaching into the breast pocket of his plaid flannel shirt, Sam pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Here's the last address I had for her, and the name of that race car driver she's been seeing, in case you run into a problem finding her."
Luke scowled. He knew all about Burke Marcell and his reputation with women. The man had a new babe attached to his arm every few months or so, according to those rags Sam read. After shaking his head, Luke stared at the slip of paper. It would be a miracle if Sam's daughter was still in Palm Springs. And if she weren't, she could be anywhere; the Greek Isles, Rome, Switzerland, Rio. Hell, she'd lived all over the world. What made Sam think she'd want to give up her high society life and come live on a small, struggling horse farm in Kentucky? Refolding the scrap of paper, Luke tucked it in his shirt pocket. "I'll go sometime next week--"
"Like hell," Sam said, cutting Luke off. "You need to go tomorrow. I already made a plane reservation for you."
"But your surgery's tomorrow."
Sam waved a hand in the air. "I'm having my heel spurs removed. You think I can't handle that without you hanging around the hospital?"
"The way you've been swearing, moaning and carrying on lately, I wonder." Luke reached across the table, grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured himself a double shot.
"Pour me another one, too," Sam said, nudging his empty glass forward.
Luke tossed his drink back. "Nothing doing. You're not allowed to eat after nine, or drink anything after midnight. Remember?" He made a show of looking at his watch. It was already a quarter past twelve.
"Who died and made you my mother?"
Grabbing the bottle from Sam's reach, Luke laughed as he scraped his chair on the hardwood floor and stood. "And you'd better get to bed. You don't want to be cranky for those pretty little nurses in the morning."
Sam mumbled something under his breath,and Luke had a pretty good idea what he'd said. Sam was right. Luke was a bastard. And Sam's daughter Rusty was about to find that out, too.