Betina Krahn - Hooked

As soon as she returned home, she spoke to her two children, who encouraged her to step up and volunteer for Casting for Recovery. Donna knew that it cost roughly $1,000 to send a woman on the retreat, and decided then to join Casting for Recovery’s 1,800 volunteers and dedicate her time and energy to ensure one other woman would receive the same experience she did.

Since that day, Donna and her family often raise over $1,000 each year (enough to fulfill her promise to send one woman to the retreat annually) in a Bunco tournament. Supporters play the popular dice game, donate money and win prizes that Donna has convinced local businesses to donate.

Beyond that event, Donna is also known for balancing her commitment to family, colleagues, cancer survivors and her community in a dignified and loving way, whether she’s talking to bikers about Casting for Recovery when they’re on a motorcycle run, or running a booth at a trade show. She also shares her story at wine tastings and with fly-fishing clubs. And she’s the first to welcome women as they register for a retreat. She’s the consummate ambassador, enthuses Lori Simon, who says Donna is also “hysterically funny.”

Donna is quick to point out that humor is important to get through recovery, but organizations like Casting for Recovery are needed, since breast cancer is no laughing matter. In 2009, more than 192,000 women in the U.S. were newly diagnosed with the disease. In Arizona that year, there were 3,470 new cases.

Knowing the incredible need, Donna took on the responsibility of Arizona program coordinator after the former coordinator resigned. She says she simply could not allow the state’s program to go dormant until a new coordinator could be found.

“After you have cancer, you realize it’s pretty darned good to be alive,” she says. “So you need to give back, because every day we get something great out of life. It’s important to make sure that others do, too.”

New York Times bestselling author Betina Krahn, mother of two and owner of two (humans and canines, respectively), shares the Florida sunshine with her fiancé and a fun and crazy sister. Her historical romances have received reviewer’s choice and lifetime achievement awards and appear regularly on bestseller lists…including the coveted USA TODAY and New York Times lists.

Her books have been called “sexy,” “warm,” “witty” and even “wise.” But the description that pleases her most is “funny”—because she believes the only thing the world needs as much as it needs love is laughter. You can learn more about her books and contact her through her website, BetinaKrahn.com.

For Donna Fischer of Casting For Recovery, who embodies hope for so many, and for everyone who has or has had breast cancer.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Letter to Reader

Greer Lodge, Arizona

Escape was not an option.

Bearing down on Stephanie Steele from across the lodge’s festive great room was a man wearing a muskrat on his head—either that, or the worst hairpiece in the western hemisphere. The unfortunate fellow’s arm was caught hard in the grip of Terrie Gardner, her dearest friend and the mother of the bride…who had cleverly trapped Stephanie at a table against the wall via a place card bearing her name. Now she was caught like an antelope with a bum leg watching a lion approach.

Weddings. Modern society’s version of stalking on the Serengeti.

“Stephanie!”

Terrie had tried to make this introduction last night at the wedding reception, but Steph had pleaded fatigue from the long flight and even longer drive from the airport, and fled. The wedding brunch provided her with the perfect second chance.

“You simply must meet Bob Slidell…Rick’s boss. He’s the head of the Bitterman Group, the commercial property giants. Bob, Steph is the founder and CEO of Silk and Steele, the hottest upscale women’s clothing chain in the country.” Terrie beamed with determined mischief. “You two have a ton in common, being business magnates and all, so I’ll leave you to your tycoon talk while I circulate.”

“So, Stephanie.” Bob slid into the chair beside hers, clearly interested. She was wearing a saucy Carolina Herrera tunic that left one shoulder bare; of course he’d be interested. “You’re quite the little dancer.” When she looked blankly at him, he clarified, “I saw you at the reception last night. You know, with Cassie and the bridesmaids out on the dance floor.”

“Oh, well—” Steph laughed, with precious little humor “—there’s a perfectly good explanation for that. I taught Cassie and her friends to dance when they were in middle school, and since then, she always pulls me out onto the floor and makes me relive the experience.”

“Well, you’ve got all the right moves,” he said with too much emphasis and too much eyeballing. “You put the younger crowd to shame.”

Ah, the maneuvers of a CEO on the prowl. Charge in like it’s a hostile board takeover, toss out some left-handed flattery, and then flash some of the good life in the dazzled quarry’s eyes…. Yep, there was the Presidential Rolex, right on cue. Bob propped his left elbow on the table, baring his twenty-thousand-dollar timepiece in a fairly casual way.

“Terrie says you’re based in Atlanta now.”

“I moved the corporate headquarters from Phoenix to Atlanta four years ago,” she said, “and it was a good move. Silk and Steele has really taken off…seventeen markets now. Plus, I have two sisters in Atlanta, and nieces and nephews aplenty. It’s been great to get back to family. Do you have children, Bob?”

“Two. East and West Coasts. Thank God for boarding schools. Pretty much leaves me free to…have fun.” He waggled his eyebrows, saluted her with his mimosa and then drained the glass. “What about you? What do you do for fun, Stephie?”

“It’s Stephanie, Bob,” she said, smiling, and battling an urge to turn her sharp little hooves on his tragically insecure underbelly. But she was a decent and rational human being, not given to inflicting emotional pain on desperate, dead-muskrat-wearing executives fresh from the divorce wars. “And lately…I’ve been too occupied to water-ski, bodysurf, hike, train my dog or even use my gourmet kitchen.”

“Occupied?” He gave a wicked laugh and looked her up and down. “I just bet you have. With what?” He laughed again. “Or is that whom?”

She didn’t mean to do it. It wasn’t part of some grand discourage-the-masher plan. It just came out. Pure and simple. The truth.

“With radiation therapy, Bob.”

He huffed a half laugh, frowned, then finally got that she was serious.

“Radiation?” He recoiled, albeit unconsciously. “You mean for…”

“The big C.” When he continued to stare, she smiled again and felt a rebellious pleasure at the release of the tension that had coiled in her middle. She had simply told him the truth.

And the rest of the truth was that she didn’t feel like playing dating games just now…or maybe ever again. Until now, she’d refused to tell anyone except her sisters about the breast cancer diagnosis or the treatment that left her drained of energy and depressed at times. She hadn’t even told Terrie, one of her oldest friends. All their phone conversations over the last year had been about the engagement, the wedding plans and the way the Phoenix store was doing. There just never seemed to be a good time to say “Cassie’s got to have the Vera Wang for the wedding, and by the way, I’ve got breast cancer.”