Текст книги "Paper Thin"
Автор книги: Jennifer Snyder
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
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Blaire Hayes enjoys a quiet life, spending her days as a CNA at the local nursing home and nights studying for exams. She prefers things to be as uncomplicated as possible—but when her friends drag her to a party and she bumps into her high school crush, the path of Blaire’s life veers in an entirely different direction than what she had planned for herself.
Jason Bryant created a nice life away from his hometown, putting distance between himself and the suffocating sadness of his father’s death. But when he finds out his grandfather’s health is deteriorating, he decides he must return home. Partying was not on his agenda while in town, but it’s how he bumps into Blaire Hayes—the girl he’d always thought of in high school as an unobtainable pass.
Together the two learn there are moments in life that hold within them all the power to break you...
Please continue reading for a sneak peek at Heather Hildenbrand’s novel, A Risk Worth Taking!
When 22-year-old Summer Stafford’s parents split halfway through her senior year at college, Summer’s world is rocked. Everything she thought she knew—heck, everything she thought she wanted for her own life—feels like a lie. The truth is love is a risk.
Reeling from the divorce, Summer derails her own future by giving up her lifelong plans for a big-city career. She moves back home, business degree in hand. Dad needs her to fill the gaps her mother left behind; Summer needs to find who she is outside of the cookie-cutter life that failed so miserably for her parents.
Ford O’Neal’s future involves one person: himself. He doesn’t have a permanent address and he definitely doesn’t commit. To a place or a person. Raised by hippies, he plans just far enough ahead to secure his next stop, this one landing him at a work-study program at Heritage Plantation where he can grow his own herbal and medicinal creations.
Summer is gorgeous and smart and fun to be with, the perfect way to pass five months. It won’t be love—Ford’s got too many things to accomplish, too many places to go, before he settles down. Yet Summer pulls him in, challenging him to rethink his own philosophy.
When Ford’s five months are up, each of them must decide if love is really worth the risk.
A Risk Worth Taking is a sexy & sweet coming-of-age novel with a taste of country & cowboy, perfect for New Adult and Adult Contemporary Romance readers.
Chapter One
Summer
Heat from the kitchen drifted through the hardwood, warming my feet and signaling me for dinner. I always knew when a meal was being cooked. This floor conducted heat like a metal rod in a thunderstorm. I gave up on unpacking the latest box of books onto an already full bookshelf and headed for the kitchen. The scent of hot food made my stomach rumble.
As I stepped through the doorway, my eyes fell on the empty seat at the far end of the table. The one right next to my dad’s usual spot. A sharp pang shot through my gut but I shook it off. I wouldn’t think of her now. Not with all the hustle and bustle and familiar faces waiting. I could think of it in the quietness of my bed tonight—and every night after if needed.
“Summer!” Mazie, our housekeeper, pushed past the others crowding the kitchen and hurried forward, holding her arms out. I stepped into the circle of her arms and inhaled the scent of garlic and dish soap that was Mazie Pagonis.
The older woman squeezed tight and then quickly pulled away with a frown. “You’ve lost weight, Paidi mou,” she said, her Greek accent faded after so many years on Virginia soil.
I smiled. Paidi mou, in Greek, meant ‘my child.’ It had been Mazie’s pet name for me since I was little. “I’m fine,” I assured her.
Mazie clucked her tongue, going on as if I hadn’t spoken. “You’re wasting away. Good thing I made pasta tonight. It will stick to your insides. Casey!”
Behind her, Casey, my best friend, jumped. “What?” he demanded.
“Carry the bread rolls to the table.” Casey moved toward the counter but Mazie stopped him with a reproachful look. “Wash your hands first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Casey switched directions, heading for the sink.
“It smells delicious,” I told her.
“Good. I expect you to eat like it,” she said.
Mazie hurried away, rattling off instructions to the nearest body to help her with the heavy lifting. Pans and platters were lifted from the oven by willing arms, all belonging to hungry crew unlucky enough to have arrived early for the meal. Mazie didn’t believe in idle hands.
My dad came in and we all sat. Around a mouthful of garlic bread, I heard the screen door kick shut and shot Casey a curious look. He didn’t answer, opting instead for another forkful of casserole. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. I watched as Casey’s gaze was drawn over my shoulder.
“Someone’s late to the party,” I said, turning in my chair. I expected to see another familiar face joining the group, someone I knew from past summers on the farm. I was surprised to find a stranger instead, though that wasn’t what had my eyes widening and my torso stuck in the swiveled position.
This guy was not the usual farmhand variety. At least, not the kind they grew in the foothills of southwestern Virginia. Definitely not from Grayson County.
He was tall and lean, muscular in all the right places if his fitted white shirt was any indication. His sandy brown hair was just long enough to fall onto his forehead, making his face look younger than the rest of him. But those eyes, blue and deep and full of knowledge—of what I didn’t know—were what held my attention. I bet they’re even better close up, I thought. He caught my gaze and held it for two beats before I realized I was obviously staring. I broke away, but not before the rest of the table noticed our exchange.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Casey and Joe share a look that had me wanting to reach over the table and knock the grin off both their faces. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I made a show of cutting my food, carefully placing it on my fork, and putting it in my mouth. The clink of my silverware echoed in the stretched silence.
I prayed my face wasn’t as red as it felt. Checking out a hot guy was one thing. Doing it in front of my dad and all his boys was quite another.
“Ford, ‘bout time. You better get a plate before it’s gone,” Casey said, breaking the silence. I sent him a grateful look from underneath my lowered lashes. He’d tease me for it later, but he wasn’t letting me suffer for it now. I owed him one.
“I’m on it.” The voice that responded was low and held just a hint of humor. I pretended it wasn’t on my account.
The newcomer, Ford, made his way toward the stack of empty plates on the counter, and conversation resumed, slowly at first but building quickly to the crescendo of noise it’d been before. I tried to see where the new guy planned to sit, uncomfortably aware of the empty chair next to me, but he went first to the sink and ran soap and water over his hands.
I took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Ignored Casey trying to wink at me.
“Look at that,” Mazie said, with a pointed look at my father. “Washing his hands without being asked. I want three more like him.”
Dad scowled but Ford laughed, a deep-in-the-belly sound that made it difficult not to turn and watch while you listened to it. “You better be careful what you wish for. I’ve been told it’s hard enough handling one of me.”
Mazie giggled. It made my brows raise. I’d never in my life heard Mazie giggle. I looked at Casey but he was forking casserole into his mouth and ignoring me. “You let me be the judge of that,” she said.
“Unless you want the job?” Casey whispered at me across the table, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’ll tell everyone here how you got that rash last fall,” I hissed back. He shut up. Joe snorted and opened his mouth to say something but one look from Casey made him think better of it.
I went back to my dinner. Mazie appeared at my side, fussing at me to take a second helping. Despite my resistance, another spoonful of food was deposited onto my plate and Mazie walked off with a satisfied smile.
Casey shook his head. “You’re going to weigh three hundred pounds by the end of the year,” he said.
“Not if I work it off beating the crap out of you.” Trading jabs with Casey was the easiest way to recover from public embarrassment.
“That’s a fight I’d like to see.” Ford’s tone was casual and friendly but something about it—about him—made everything he said feel very … personal.
The chair next to me scraped back and Ford sat down. I turned just as he scooted forward, and, for a split second, our faces were only inches apart. I blinked, startled by the closeness of the most striking gray-blue eyes I’d ever seen. I was right. Definitely better close up.
Ford turned his attention to his steaming plate and dug in. Across the table, Casey grinned in a way that made me want to throat-punch him. He was enjoying this way too much. Ass.
While Ford ate, I tried not to ogle the parts of him that filled my peripheral. But it was hard not to notice the broad shoulders and hard jawline. After a few moments, he grinned and turned toward me. Feeling caught and determined to play it off this time, I did the same.
“I’m Ford.” He stuck his hand out and I shook it, the gesture awkward when we were sitting this close. Wow, he had big hands. Rough and calloused. What was his job here? Shit, was I supposed to be saying something?
“Um, hi.” My cheeks warmed all over again. I raised my chin, giving his hand an extra-firm shake. “I’m Summer. I live here.” Smooth.
He held my hand longer than necessary, but I didn’t pull away, wanting to beat him.
Finally, Ford retracted his hand from mine and picked up his fork, though he made no move to eat “I know. Casey’s told me a lot about you.”
Without the distraction of his touch, I regained my composure enough to manage a mock glare across the table. “Is that right? Should I be worried?”
Not that it mattered what Casey said about me. I’d left school to get away from a lot of things about my life, including a guy. Especially a guy. I wasn’t looking for another one. So who cared what this one thought?
“I think where Casey’s concerned, you should always be worried,” Ford said and I laughed.
“Hey now,” Casey said. “You two have known each other three seconds and you’re already ganging up on me? Dean, I want to file a complaint on the new guy.”
At the far end of the table, my dad shook his head at Casey and then went back to his conversation with Frank.
“You work here?” I asked Ford. He nodded. “When did you start? I don’t remember seeing you here for winter break.”
“Got into town about a month ago. Only been working here at the farm for a couple of weeks,” he explained.
“Ford took that internship,” Casey explained.
“The work study program?” I asked, remembering my dad saying something about it being his turn to offer to mentor a graduate for the Board of Farmers he served on. They were big on “the next generation,” as they called it, and keeping natural produce locally owned and operated so they found ways to give back as often as possible. I’d forgotten all about it until now.
“That’s the one,” Ford said. “Figured I’d follow him around, learn what I can of mass-produce field farming before moving onto the next one.”
“You have multiple work studies lined up?” I asked.
“This is my third since graduating the program.”
“Do you have a track record that requires you to keep seeking out alternative locations?” I asked.
Ford laughed. “I’m not a delinquent, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” He shot back. I frowned, but he didn’t seem ruffled. “Don’t worry. I’ve completed each program with no problems. I just want to learn as much as I can before choosing a location and settling into my own thing.”
“And what’s your thing?” I asked.
Ford didn’t answer right away. He seemed to take his time thinking over my question. “Creating,” he said finally.
Something about his answer pulled at me. Like a challenge. Like the question I’d asked was important and if you didn’t know the answer, you’d failed. It made me shift in my seat as I realized I wouldn’t have known the answer had he asked me that same thing. I waited for him to shoot the question back at me, but he never did. Casey said something to him and he responded; moment over.
The rest of the meal passed easily. Ford talked mostly to Casey with plenty of side comments and smiles for Mazie. All of the guys, including my father, seemed to genuinely like Ford even though he’d only been here for two weeks. Maybe it was my warped view of the world these days, but it was a little off-putting to see that he’d slid into the fabric of Heritage Plantation so quickly.
Ford was either the nicest guy ever—or the slickest charmer. I wasn’t looking for either one.
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Or visit Heather Hildenbrand’s website for a complete title list.
Novels are a funny thing to write. They’re inspired by everywhere and nowhere all at once. Take this novel for instance. The title came to me two years (or more) ago. I was helping another author friend with finding a good title for her current work-in-progress. Paper Thin came into my mind. She didn’t like it for her story, but I loved the title. I jotted down the two words on a Post-It note, and placed it on my desk. It sat on top of a stack of other random Post-It note scribbles for nearly two years. Each time I saw it, I knew I wanted to write a story that would do the title justice. One summer day, I sat down and tried. I hope you think I succeeded, dear reader.
This story wouldn’t have been possible without the following people:
My wonderful husband who helped me brainstorm the plot for this one. He knew where this story would go before I even did.
My kids, who let me write early in the mornings without complaint, even when I knew they wanted me to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast instead of cold cereal because I wanted to get back to Charlotte. They knew there was always Saturday mornings…unless they woke to find me at the computer. Again.
My mom and sister for always being there for me, and believing in this dream of mine.
My author friends T. A. Foster and Bethany Lopez. Your feedback is precious to me.
My team of people I’ve come to adore. My editor H. Danielle Crabtree. My proofreader Nicole Stephenson. My cover artist Lindee Robinson. My formatter Stacey Blake. You all make my stories a complete package, and I thank you for that.
My Snyder’s Sidekicks. You fuel me. Honestly. Each day I’m so amazed by your enthusiasm for my stories and characters. Thank you, ladies. A special thank you needs to go out to Amanda Miracle for naming the bar Charlotte meets Johnny at Throttle.
My readers, thank you for keeping this dream of mine alive for a little while longer.
(Photo by Cover Me Darling Photography)
Jennifer Snyder lives in North Carolina were she spends most of her time writing New Adult and Young Adult Fiction, reading, and struggling to stay on top of housework. She is a tea lover with an obsession for Post-it notes and smooth writing pens. Jennifer lives with her husband and two children, who endure listening to songs that spur inspiration on repeat and tolerate her love for all paranormal, teenage-targeted TV shows.
Find out more about her latest novel by visiting her website:
http://jennifersnyderbooks.com/
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