The Legacy
When Noah Calhoun finds his place in the
world, he discovers a woman who makes him
whole.
Noah Calhoun always felt like an outsider in
the Malloy family, even though he’d been
legally adopted at age fifteen by Nicky, the
only sister in the pack. After an accident
nearly kills his father, Tyler, Noah decides
to leave and find his own place in the
world. Using the skills his ex-bounty hunter
father taught him, Noah finds a job as a
small-town sheriff.
Rosalyn Benedict didn’t need a
fresh-faced do-gooder sheriff trying to help
her. She’d been surviving just fine on her
own. Living on the streets since she was a
child, Rosalyn was smarter, tougher and
stronger than most people ever hope to be.
With her stubbornness and his pigheadedness,
will Noah and Rosalyn find that one place
where they both belong?
Excerpt
As if she’d
conjured him, he stepped out of
the jail into the fading
sunlight. The orange glow from
the sunset bathed him, turning
his brown hair into a fiery
halo. She stopped in mid-wash to
stare, every small hair on her
body standing on end. Her heart
thundered, blood pumping past
her ears until she could hear
nothing but the rhythm of her
body.
She’d
never experienced anything like it. Before
she could even think about running, he
spotted her and smiled.
Shit.
The man
smiled like an angel from heaven above.
Rosalyn’s feet were rooted to the ground,
helpless as he walked toward her, a
lean-hipped swagger that reminded her again
of a big brown cat. He took off his hat and
nodded. Her body had taken control and
refused to budge an inch even as her head
screamed at her to run.
“Good
evening, Rosalyn.”
Well, now
he knew her name. She wondered who’d
snitched on her.
“I told
you to leave me alone. Are you deaf or just
stupid?” Her heated reaction was part
annoyance, part arousal. Seeing the handsome
man with the whiskey eyes did something to
her no man had ever done—made her lose
control. Whiskers meowed noisily at her
feet.
“Neither,
ma’am. I’m just trying to do the right
thing.” He glanced at the soap in her hand.
“Can I offer you some supper?”
Rosalyn’s
heart slammed against her chest in anger and
disappointment. Her temporary lunacy broke
like a bubble. How dare he? She wasn’t a
charity case to throw food at because he
wanted to feel good about himself. After
rinsing her hands with the tin cup of clean
water, she wiped them on her handkerchief
and walked toward him.
A look of
puzzlement drifted across his features
before he smiled again. Rosalyn smiled back
then pushed him in the horse trough. He
landed with a huge splash, spraying water
every which way. The look on his face,
however, sent her into peals of laugher.
Shock, surprise and bewilderment. It had
probably been years since anyone had taken
advantage of the tough sheriff.
Unfortunately, Rosalyn forgot just how fast
he moved. Within seconds, he was back on his
feet and coming straight at her. Her
hesitation cost her plenty because he got a
hold on her arm, a tight grip that told her
the surprise from the dunking was over.
Sheriff Calhoun was angry.
Whiskers
was nowhere to be found, but Rosalyn didn’t
blame the cat. She tried to twist away but
his hold was too strong. Before she could
utter a protest, she was immersed in the
horse trough. The cold water shocked her so
much she left her mouth open and a gush of
it slid down her throat. She choked and
sputtered, trying desperately to crawl out
of the water.
He hauled
her out of the trough as quickly as he’d
thrown her in. She flopped onto his
shoulder, stomach down, and the water in her
throat ended up on his backside. If she
wasn’t gasping for air, she’d have laughed
at the sight.
The
sheriff spanked her behind once. “That
wasn’t very nice, Rosalyn.” He stomped into
the jail, slamming the door behind him.
