Cheryl Wolverton - Once Upon A Chocolate Kiss

It sounded so sappy. Love was a relationship that developed over time when two people had the same likes and dislikes, or the same goals for the future.

But now, tonight, sitting here in the flickering firelight, Richard thought that attraction, the need to hold and care for Samantha despite the fact that they were from two different worlds, and that feeling inside him, the one that said this was the woman for him, was more important than anything else.

RITA ®Award finalist Cheryl Wolverton has well over a dozen books to her name. Her very popular HILL CREEK, TEXAS series has been a finalist in many contests. Having grown up in Oklahoma, lived in Kentucky, Texas and now Louisiana, Cheryl and her husband of twenty years and their two children, Jeremiah and Christina, consider themselves Oklahomans who have been transplanted to grow and flourish in the South. Readers are always welcome to contact her via: P.O. Box 106 Faxon, OK 73540, or e-mail her at Cheryl@cherylwolverton.com. You can also visit her Web site at www.cherylwolverton.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment.

—Proverbs 12:19

Patience Smith, to whom I submitted this years ago.

She loved it, and because of her encouragement,

I never forgot this story.

Lori Linxwiler, who willingly gave me information

I needed from a nurse’s point of view.

Let’s face it, it’s been twenty years since I’ve been a paramedic! Thanks, Lori!

The fans who demanded more

HILL CREEK, TEXAS stories.

And my family, who, when this story absolutely flooded my being, didn’t make me stop, but allowed me to write to my heart’s delight.

Dear Reader,

This story was such a delight to write. Just before I started it, I was diagnosed with MS. I lost my agent and I was scheduled for surgery. All within three weeks of each other!

I thought, well, this story isn’t due for three months yet, I should just set it aside. Instead, I started rereading the first three chapters, and I realized what a wonderful story I had here. One little omission, one little lie, can destroy a person, and yet, God is so willing to forgive. We should be able to forgive those who upset us in the same way.

Thrilled that I had a story where the hero actually messes up, but so does the heroine in the forgiveness department, I started writing. I couldn’t put it down. It absolutely flowed from me. Only one other story has ever done that—A Matter of Trust, my first Love Inspired novel.

I realized how much the story and its theme meant. Forgiveness. Boy, is it hard sometimes, but it’s so necessary. Poor Samantha must learn that even though she has been deserted again and again, she has a heavenly Father who will never desert her, and she can keep her eyes on Him as an example of forgiveness and love.

I hope you can, too, as you go through the trials on the horizon and learn how to let go and trust God by forgiving or simply communicating with the person who is lying to you.

I always love hearing from readers! Hope you enjoy the story!

Blessings!

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

December 31, Hill Creek, Texas

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Thirty-six-year-old Richard Reilly Moore caught the young woman who had just collided into him outside the church doors, hardly registering her apology. He danced on the icy steps and held on to the shifting, slipping woman for dear life, trying to keep both her and himself from tumbling down the steps.

“Yikes. Wai-ai-ai-ait! O-o-o-oh!” The woman’s voice squeaked with each word. Richard sucked in a sharp breath. “Whoa! Just hold still!”

It was to no avail. He lost his footing. So did the woman. Tangling together was inevitable. They went down.

The only thing Richard could do was wrap his arms around the woman and pray God would protect them both. Holding her closely, he bounced, slid and rolled until, with a loud thud, they hit the snow piled up along the sidewalk. Pain ricocheted through his feet, back and elbows. No one had heard or seen them land in an ignominious heap. Most of the residents were in church already. He had been running late.

She had simply been running.

He ignored the elbow in his ribs and cracked open an eye to see what other surprises the bundle of energy had in store for him. He couldn’t believe what he saw, so he popped open the other eye to make sure. His vision hadn’t disappointed him.

Laying atop of him and looking rather shocked was a beautiful petite blonde who was quite flustered and out of breath. But she wasn’t just beautiful—for Richard had seen some of the most stunning women in the world—she was more. Her blue eyes sparkled with the emotions she felt—and they were certainly running the gamut as she stared down at him in surprise, recognition of their predicament and then dawning embarrassment.

“I don’t suppose this is the time to crack a blonde joke,” he asked dryly, unable to resist responding to the rising color in her cheeks.

Blue eyes twinkled with sheepish humor.

“Only if I can crack a British joke. Or Scottish or—”

“Close enough,” he replied, surprised she’d heard the slight Irish brogue in his speech that sometimes came out more British than Irish. He’d attended an English boarding school. His thoughts quickly changed from curiosity to pain when the woman scrambled to get off him. How could someone so alive and vibrant yet so tiny manage to elbow or knee every sore spot on his body?

“Here, let me help you.” She grabbed his arm, insistent on aiding him.

“Really, I think I’m fine. Just snow-covered,” he replied. The last thing he wanted was to risk allowing this woman to pull him up and accidentally knock him right back over. He managed to get to his feet before he found out he was quite wrong about being fine. His eyes widened with pain as he tried to put weight on his left foot.

“You’re hurt!”

A dull flush entered his cheeks. The pride in him wanted to deny he had hurt his ankle in that fall. But the inability to walk kept him from telling a falsehood. Trying to be gallant about the entire thing he replied, “At least you made it out in one piece. Care to tell me what had you rushing from church?”

“I wasn’t rushing from church,” she argued, moving forward to brush the snow from him.

He couldn’t help but notice how small her hands were as they brushed over his shoulders, down his arms and chest. Catching at her hands, he murmured, “I’m fine—if I can find somewhere to sit down.”

“Oh!”

She avoided his grasp like an eel slipping from a fisherman’s hands and anchored an arm around him. The tiny arm was really quite ridiculous around his six-foot tall frame. But the woman was insistent on helping him.

“Lean on me,” she commanded.

For one so small, she was quite authoritative. He grinned in amusement and gave her a bit of his weight. His grin quickly turned to a grimace when he tried to put weight on his foot.

Why had this happened now? He didn’t have the time. He had so many other things to do. The woman urging him forward drew his mind from thoughts of work. Glancing down, he realized she really was putting her all into helping him over to a safe place to sit.