Weathered Too Young (Gold Members)

Western Historical Romance

Click to Read Excerpt

Back Cover Teaser:

Lark Lawrence was alone.  In all the world there was no one who cared for her.  Still, there were worse things than independence—and Lark had grown quite capable of providing for herself.  Nevertheless, as winter loomed, she suddenly found herself with no means by which to afford food and shelter—destitute.

Yet, Tom Evans was a kind and compassionate man.  When Lark Lawrence appeared on his porch, without pause he hired her to keep house and cook for himself and his cantankerous elder brother, Slater.  And although Tom had befriend Lark first, it would be Slater Evans—handsome, brooding and twelve years Lark’s senior—who would unknowingly abduct her heart.

Still, Lark’s true age (which she concealed at first meeting the Evans brothers) was not the only truth she had kept from Slater and Tom Evans.  Darker secrets lay imprisoned deep within her heart—and her past.  However, it is that secrets are made to be found out—and Lark’s secrets revealed would soon couple with the arrival of a woman from Slater’s past to forever shatter her dreams of winning his love—or so it seemed.  Would truth and passion mingle to capture Lark the love she’d never dared to hope for?

Book Excerpt:

“Don’t tell me ya actually let her in, Tom,” he grumbled.

“And this, Miss Lark,” Tom began, “is my charmin’ brother, Slater.”  Tom shook his head as he looked to his brother.  He smiled and chuckled a bit…continued his introductions.  “Slater…this is Lark. She’s gonna cook me somethin’ to eat for dinner ‘sides yer leather-hard jerky and puny old biscuits.”

“My jerky is fine,” Slater grumbled.  “And my biscuits.”

Mustering every ounce of courage left in her, Lark offered a hand to the menacing man.  “Hello,” she greeted.

Slater Evans wiped his hand on his pant leg and dutifully accepted hers.  He gripped her hand so tightly, Lark nearly winced.  He was strong—the proof was in his grip.  Furthermore, he labored hard—this evidence was also in his hand—for his palm was callused—and warm.  His touch unsettled her.  She had the sense he could strangle her with little effort.

“I hate rabbit stew,” he stated.  “…We’re ornery old men, set in our ways, and we don’t take kindly to change.”

Lark felt her eyebrows arch in surprise.  Could it be he was actually going to accept her?

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