Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
NIKKI LOGAN lives on the edge of a string of wetlands in Western Australia with her partner and a menagerie of animals. She writes captivating naturebased stories full of romance in descriptive natural environments. She believes the danger and richness of wild places perfectly mirror the passion and risk of falling in love. Nikki loves to hear from readers via www.nikkilogan.com.au or through social media. Find her on Twitter, @ReadNikkiLogan, and Facebook, NikkiLoganAuthor.
For Maus
Kristi, you endured the worst year of your life while I was enjoying the best of mine. Romy is someone I’d like to have in my corner in a difficult time, I hope I was there for you in yours. Thank you for lending me your boys.
I want to acknowledge the assistance of Squadron Leader Jeff Newton of the Royal Australian Air Force (who has some of the strongest glue I’ve ever seen going on in his family) and Ammon Hontz (ret. U.S. Army) for their military insight and assistance.
To Sandra and Kate, my walking buddies and beta-readers, there’s a little bit of each of you in this one, girls. Thanks for being a fantastic cheer squad.
IT WAS hard to know what was putting the doof-doof into Romy Carvell’s heartbeat—the illicit thrill of slipping a fine crystal ornament unseen into her coat pocket, or the lean, mean, gorgeous machine squatted chatting to her son two aisles away. She glanced surreptitiously in the convex mirror mounted over the counter. It was supposed to help them monitor the park gift shop but, right now, it conveniently gave her a perfect tool to watch anyone watching her.
The ornament clanked gently against the two other items she’d stolen as it nestled into the deep recesses of her light coat.
Her gaze drifted back to the crouched man talking to Leighton. Her son was listening but not responding, par for the course lately. Silence or conflict. Something about being eight years old. The fact he hadn’t yet made a beeline for her side meant he was feeling comfortable about the stranger’s presence, which instantly made Romy feel comfortable about it. The man straightened and reached for something on a nearby shelf.
Her gut twisted.
Military.
Forget the due-for-a-cut hair, the three-day growth—military didn’t just wash off. This stranger had the residual carriage, the unmistakable forced casualness disguising a well-honed subliminal alertness.
He moved just like her father.
The man smiled at her son and then stepped away, giving him the space he needed. Leighton relaxed further now his escape route to his mum wasn’t closed off by a human roadblock, his gentle grey eyes searching her out.
And right on their tail was this stranger’s piercing green ones; they locked on Romy in the security mirror. She looked away, her heart thumping.
Okay…Definitely the man and not the shoplifting.
She shifted out of the mirror’s range and pulled her focus back to the job at hand, fanning herself with the tourism postcard she’d plucked from the overcrowded carousel stand. A lot rode on her success this morning and she was taking a big risk going for one more. Not because of the oblivious cashier whose attention was locked firmly on Mr Military over there—that only made
