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Cover Copy
Madeleine Sutter was once the belle of the ball at the popular resort town of Misty Lake, New York. But as the sole survivor of the community’s worst tragedy, she’s come under suspicion. Longing for the life she once enjoyed, she accepts a rare social invitation to the event of the season. Now she will be able to show everyone she’s the same woman they’d always admired—with just one hidden exception: she awoke from the accident with the ability to heal.
Doctor Jace Merrick has fled the failures and futility of city life to start anew in rural Misty Lake. A man of science, he rejects the superstitious chatter surrounding Maddie and finds himself drawn to her confidence and beauty. And when she seduces him into a sham engagement, he agrees to be her ticket back into society, if she supports his new practice—and reveals the details of her remarkable recovery. But when his patients begin to heal miraculously, Jace may have to abandon logic, accept the inexplicable—and surrender to a love beyond reason…
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Books by Thomasine Rappold
The Sole Survivor Series
The Lady Who Lived Again
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
The Lady Who Lived Again
A Sole Survivor Novel
Thomasine Rappold
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Thomasine Rappold
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First Electronic Edition: December 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-991-0
eISBN-10: 1-61650-991-0
First Print Edition: December 2015
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-992-7
ISBN-10: 1-61650-992-9
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
For my mom, Lorraine DeBonis Mancino, whose love for romance novels lives on in me.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my awesome agent, Stefanie Lieberman, for loving this story and for all your efforts in seeing it published. My deep appreciation and thanks to my editor, Paige Christian, whose keen eye and stellar skills helped make this a better book. To my wonderfully ruthless critique group, Bonnie, Chris, Colleen, and Jean, thank you for never blowing smoke and always giving it to me straight. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks to my daughters for their patience with a mom who spends half her time in an imaginary world. To my real-life hero, John, thank you for all your love and support, and for always having more faith in me than I have in myself. And lastly, my heartfelt thanks to you, dear reader, for sitting down to spend time with my characters. I hope you enjoy their story.
Chapter 1
Misty Lake, New York, 1882
Everyone wished she had died with the others. Maddie Sutter had accepted this truth long ago. But much to the small town’s dismay, she insisted on living and breathing despite it.
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin against the barrage of eyes watching her every move as she forged down Main Street. After three years of suffering this unwelcome attention each time she ventured to town, one would think she’d have grown used to the assault.
Maddie had resigned herself to many things since the accident, but she’d never adapt to the dread her presence induced in those she had known all her life—those who had once loved and cared for her.
With a fortifying breath, she approached a cluster of young boys on the corner. The same wretched imps had greeted her earlier when they’d spied her arrival in downtown Misty Lake. She braced herself for a repeat performance of the cruel rhyme they’d composed in her honor.
“Four dead girls on the slab, on the twelfth day of May. On Friday the thirteenth, one girl walked away.”
Refusing to alter her course, Maddie strode straight toward them. Her lungs swelled with triumph as the alarmed little brats scattered like mice. With another fractional lift of her chin, she swept onward and rounded the corner.
She entered the general mercantile, the jingling bell on the door her only greeting as she stepped inside. Along with a handful of patrons, the store housed a hodgepodge of scents. Aromas of charcoal and beeswax mingled with the sweet smell of cinnamon and apples. Renewed by the boon to her senses, she enjoyed the whiff of fond memories that came with it. She shopped quickly, spurred on by the hushed whispers echoing through the aisles as she browsed the shelves.
Gathering a bag of sugar, a tin of baking powder, and the other items on her list, she headed to the front of the store, then placed them on the polished counter.
“Good morning, Mr. Piedmont,” she said with a smile.
He wiped his hands on his bibbed apron and took a step forward.
“Madeline.”
