Sweet Mercy SWEET MERCY

ISBN 0-373-71339-8
Harlequin Superromance #1339
April 2006

 

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A man lost in grief.

A woman who can heal him.

A secret that could destroy everything.

Honey Creek Cottage is the house of Jezebel Hart’s dreams – and the place of Gamble Smith’s nightmares.  The place he built with his own hands, every stick and brick a testament to his love for the family he lost.  The place now in disrepair, its gardens tangled with loss and neglect, much like Gamble’s heart. 

He can’t bear to live in it.  Yet he isn’t ready to let go.  Not even to the vivacious Jezebel, who has put her volatile past behind her and wants to plant roots.  A woman whose sex-goddess looks, Gamble discovers, can’t match her strength and compassion.

They come together out of mutual need but find mutual healing. 

Except…she’s hiding something that could shatter their fragile bond.


~Reviews~

"The prose is lyrical ...  ...hats off to Jean Brashear for breathing life into well- worn character types and spreading a rainbow of color over a tear- jerking plot."
-- The Romance Reader

"Brashear does a fabulous job of painting a pair destined for one another. Gamble is my kind of hero -- a tortured soul. Jezebel is a strong woman, a positive woman, who doesn't back down from a challenge, which Gamble certainly is at times. I'm not giving away more of the plot, but the emotion and need is palpable and the attraction between the two sizzles. It's a story of home and healing, and I strongly recommend you find a copy soon!"
--Linda Winfree



~ Excerpt ~

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice roared.

Jezebel spun toward the intruder, lost her balance and fell smack on her behind in the mud.

Backlit by the rising sun’s rays, a powerful, menacing frame towered over her.  “Get off my property.”  The man’s voice was guttural and fierce.

She shaded her eyes as she struggled to her feet–

And stared straight into the furious face of the man she most did not want to see.

He advanced on her.  “You’re trespassing.  Beat it.”

She backed into the rock edging and lost her footing again.  She grappled for something, anything, to catch her–

Instead, Gamble did.

The touch of this angry stranger had nothing in common with the eager, bone-melting caresses of the night before or the man who’d leaped to her rescue.  He gripped her arms so tightly she knew she’d bruise.

“I’ll give you thirty seconds.  Then I’m calling the sheriff.”  He squeezed harder, his face blazing with contempt.  “I’ll never sell this house to you.  Got that?”


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