Message From The Author

Author's Message

092Chances Are

I've never known how to answer readers when they ask me, "What is your best book? or "What is your favorite book?" It's a little like asking me which of my daughters is my favorite. I can't choose. I love them all. When I sit down to write a new book, I am filled with expectation, eager to see what will happen to my characters. I always try to do my very best, to write a wonderful, heartwarming story filled with love. But when a book is finished and sent off to my publisher, I am ready to go onto the next one, to tell the new story that has been tempting and teasing my imagination.

But something special happened as I wrote chances are, the story of Faith Butler, a Shakespearean actress with a traveling troupe whose husband deserted her and their two children, and Drake Rutledge, a mysterious rancher who was disfigured in a terrible accident years before. Drake has enveloped himself in a world of darkness and isolation, but as Faith shows him what it could be like to live again, he fears the day George Butler will come to claim the wife and children Drake longs to call his own.

This is a story that took hold and went deep. It's a story of despair and hope, of giving up and having faith. A story of darkness and light. It's the story of two people who have sworn never to love again. Until fate steps in. Here's an excerpt:

For a long time, neither spoke, neither moved. Faith's heart pounded a riotous beat in her chest. Never in her life had she felt such rage as that which emanated from this man. It was like a white-hot fire, singeing her skin.

Finally, he took a step back from her. "I think it's time for you to go, Mrs. Butler."

"But...but what about the job? You haven't told me if you'll hire me as your housekeeper."

He leaned forward. "Do you want to work for me, madam?"

She managed to hold her ground once again, not drawing away as she wanted. "No," she answered honestly, her voice quivering. "But I have no other choice. I'll not let my daughter die for lack of a roof over her head or food on the table. And I don't want my children living over a saloon, which seems to be my only other choice." Suddenly, all of her courage evaporated, allowing desperation to overwhelm her. Tears flooded her eyes as she extended a hand in supplication, nearly touching his chest. "Please, Mr. Rutledge. Becca's only five years old. Please help us."

There was another lengthy silence, then he cursed softly and stepped around her, heading across the room. "Tell Parker to give you and your children a couple of rooms on the third floor." He yanked open the door. "And stay out of my way, Mrs. Butler, for as long as you're here."

Then he was gone.

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