Shelley Galloway - A Small-Town Girl

“I have a gardening lesson. I’m trying to grow lilies, but they’re not doing well. As of right now, they may be dead by Easter.”

“I never pictured you as a gardener, Gen.”

“That’s the problem! I’m not.” She smiled.

Cary squeezed her hand. “How about I stop by later and check up on those lilies?”

“You sound like you’re talking in code.”

Pausing at her car door, he said, “Maybe I am. Maybe I want to do far more than check out your flowers.”

“Maybe I’ll let you stop by.”

The look in her blue eyes made him step a little closer, wrap his arms around her waist…and press his luck.

Gen looked around the high school parking lot. “You’re not thinking of kissing me here, are you? I’m in my uniform. That would—”

“—be a really good idea,” he said quickly.

After all, Cary Hudson might be Lane’s End High’s favorite teacher and he might have been known to have the patience of a saint. But he’d never been one to run from a challenge.

Dear Reader,

You may remember meeting Gen Slate in my October 2006 book Simple Gifts. From the time Gen realized that Keaton, the hero of that story, wasn’t going to be the man for her, I knew I wanted to give Gen a romance of her own. I hope you’ll agree that Cary Hudson is her perfect match.

What really prompted this book is my beagle, Phoebe. From the moment we brought her home as a puppy, my whole family has loved her sweet disposition, her oh-so-soft ears and her loving nature. But not her stomach!

Phoebe’s constantly on the search for food, and it’s gotten her into a lot of trouble. She’s eaten plates of Christmas cookies, jumped on tables for pizza, foraged in trash cans and has even been known to snatch sandwiches out of children’s hands.

But Phoebe’s claim to fame is the time she ate a good portion of a beautifully baked ham just minutes before a dinner party. Yep, when my husband called to say he—and the vice president of his company—were minutes from our home, I was staring at my ham on the ground and a very sick-looking beagle. If you’d like to hear the whole story, I hope you’ll visit my Web site. I’ve written all about The Dinner Party That Almost Wasn’t, and have a really cute picture of Phoebe there, as well.

I hope you’ll let me know your thoughts about A Small-Town Girl. I’d love to hear about your dog antics, too! Visit me at www.shelleygalloway.com or write to me at Shelley Galloway, 10663 Loveland-Madeira Rd., #132, Loveland, OH 45140.

Shelley Galloway

A Small-Town Girl

Shelley Galloway

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Shelley Galloway loves to get up early, drink too much coffee and write books. These pastimes come in handy during her day-to-day life in southern Ohio. Most days she can be found driving her kids to their activities, writing romances in her basement or trying to find a way to get ahead of her pile of laundry. She’s also been known to bug her husband to talk to her, since she spends an inordinate amount of time alone.

Shelley taught school for over a decade before turning to her first love—writing. She was thrilled to find out that Cinderella Christmas, her first novel with Harlequin Books, made the Waldenbooks bestseller list. Shelley also happens to spend a lot of time online. Please visit her Web site at www.shelleygalloway.com.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1090—CINDERELLA CHRISTMAS

1134—SIMPLE GIFT

To Penny and Susan E.

To Kim and Carrie and Theresa, too.

Teacher friends who will know just what I mean when I say that teaching school is a lot more fun with good friends.

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Twenty signs on Campbell Road screamed the words Lion Pride in bold, black letters. A large black-and-gold cardboard lion, its tail bobbing in the bitter February wind, crouched precariously above the intersection. Three teenagers bundled in black-and-gold hooded sweatshirts darted down the sidewalk. Golden balloons bounced against a parking meter.

Basketball fever had claimed everyone and anyone in Lane’s End, Ohio.

Everyone except for Gen Slate. She was trying to figure out how to navigate her Subaru Outback through the heavy traffic.

Drumming her fingers on her steering wheel, Gen wondered if she was ever going to get her errands done or ever get accustomed to life in her new hometown.

The past month had been interesting, to say the least. After resigning from her position at the Cincinnati Police Department, she’d signed on with Lane’s End PD, rented an apartment and tried to get used to living and working in a small town.

Again.

It was a love/hate thing. Seeing people she knew at the grocery store brought back memories of growing up in Beckley, West Virginia. There, everyone had had something to say about her tomboyish nature…and how she’d never measure up to her big sister, Margaret. It had been a true testament to both their characters that they’d gotten along so well.

Gen thought of her mother, who’d never understood why she’d rather run track than dance in the pep squad. Why she preferred to go hunting the day after Thanksgiving instead of into Charleston for shopping.

Lane’s End reminded Gen that lately she’d become fiercely independent, which was a real kind way of saying she was too standoffish.

Finally the light turned green. After turning down Cheyenne Boulevard, Gen counted another fifteen Lion Pride signs and spied two cars so thoroughly covered in white-shoe-polish peppiness it was a wonder the drivers could see at all.

As she edged her car along, she spotted a crowd of middle-aged men talking with a tall boy in a letter jacket. Team supporters slowed down their cars, honked and yelled out good wishes as they passed.

Gen wished the traffic would thin out. She really needed to get some dog food as soon as possible. If she didn’t get an industrial-strength bag of Mighty Munchies home soon, Sadie was gonna go nuts.

After an eternity, Gen ran into Two By Two Pet Store and purchased Sadie’s reason for living. She’d just hoisted the dog food out of her shopping cart to put it in her car when she heard a voice.

“Hey! You need a hand?”

Gen nearly dropped the fifty-pound bag on her foot. “Excuse me?” she asked, squinting against the bright sun as it descended in the west.

“Can I give you a hand?” the very masculine voice repeated. The man then stepped out of the glare and loped forward, loped being the operative word. His movements were so smooth and even Gen was sure the guy was a bicyclist or runner. “That’s a pretty hefty bag for a woman your size.”