Fatal Harvest. Catherine Palmer

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Fatal Harvest - Catherine Palmer Mills & Boon Steeple Hill

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       Praise for

       CATHERINE PALMER

       and her novels

      “Catherine Palmer pens a page-turner with a—thought-provoking plot.”

      —Jill Elizabeth Nelson, Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Fatal Harvest

      “Veteran romance writer Palmer…delivers a satisfying tale of mother-daughter dynamics sprinkled with romance.”

      — Library Journal on Leaves of Hope

      “Enjoyable…Faith fiction fans…will find this novel just their cup of tea.”

      — Publishers Weekly Religion Bookline on Leaves of Hope

      “ Leaves of Hope i s a very emotional tale that’s easy to relate to. Ms. Palmer ignites soul-searching conflict and carries her readers on a remarkable journey they will long remember. This is a sharer.”

      — Rendezvous

      “Palmer knows how to write about a sensitive subject with wisdom and kindness.”

      —Patsy Glans, Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Thread of Deceit

      “Believable characters tug at heartstrings, and God’s power to change hearts and lives is beautifully depicted.”

      — Romantic Times BOOKreviews on “Christmas in My Heart”

      “ Love’s Haven is a glorious story that was wonderfully told…. Catherine Palmer did a stand-up job of describing each scene and creating a world which no reader will want to leave.”

      — Cataromance Reviews

      Christy Award-Winning Author

      Fatal Harvest

      A Haven Novel

      Catherine Palmer

      Refreshed Version, Newly Revised By The Author

      image www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Tim Palmer

      Thank You, Lord, for blessing me

       with the gift of this wonderful man.

      CONTENTS

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

       A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

       ONE

       M atthew Strong bit the curlicue off the top of his dipped, vanilla ice-cream cone. A shard of chocolate shell came loose and dropped right onto his jeans pocket. He glanced at the Princeton University recruiter in the driver’s seat beside him. The man’s gray eyes were focused on the turn into Jaycee Park, so Matt flicked the melting chocolate onto the floor of the brand-new Cadillac.

      He wished he looked older than sixteen. If he’d known these two men were going to take him out of class today, he might have gone to a barber. As it was, his curly black hair fell well below his ears and over the collar of his shirt. He had on his blue-and-gold striped tie, as usual. His mom had given it to him before she died. He wore the tie every day, and the mustard stain below the knot was impossible to conceal. That, along with the blob of chocolate on his jeans, made him look like a food-fight casualty.

      “A perfect score on the ACT,” the recruiter said for the second time since they’d left Artesia High School. The man was solidly built and had a blond crew cut. His immaculate red tie stood out against the pin-striped gray of his suit. He drove toward a pair of handball courts that had been built between the empty running track and the deserted softball diamond. “For a sophomore to perform so well is amazing.”

      Matt eyed his cone, wondering if he should attempt another bite. Why hadn’t he ordered a sundae in a plastic bowl? Still, this wasn’t too bad a deal. He had gotten out of his trigonometry class and had been treated to ice cream from Dairy Queen. In return, he would spend the next hour listening to this man and his colleague in the backseat tell him how great Princeton was. They’d probably show him some brochures and give him a pep talk. They’d go on and on about how much they wanted him to enroll and how many scholarships they could offer.

      For a couple of months now—ever since he had gotten his ACT results—Matt had been flooded with phone calls and letters from universities. He wasn’t too surprised at the score. One of his counselors told him he had the highest IQ ever recorded in the school system. These Princeton men were the first two college recruiters who had actually shown up looking for him, but he expected more would follow.

      He would have liked his father by his side to help the conversation along. Matt could talk for hours about things that interested him—computers, logarithms, Latin grammar, the shifting of the earth’s tectonic plates. Feeding the world’s hungry filled his thoughts

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