SARA WOOD - The Vengeful Groom

Dear Reader,

When I left my home near Plymouth, England, and flew across the Atlantic to Massachusetts to research The Vengeful Groom, I imagined myself as nervous as any Pilgrim. I found woodlands, clapboard houses, glorious beaches and historic inns. “English” scenery, and yet everything felt so foreign.

I filmed, I researched, I learned new languages. Pudding is dessert, estate agents are Realtors, cafés are diners…. I also walked in Giovanni and Tina’s footsteps, living their lives, dreaming on beaches, talking to students, exploring mansions, a garage and small-town life. I visited Harvard and Boston’s Italian quarter.

There was also time for playing hooky—wandering the wilder shores of Cape Cod, boating up silvery rivers and across vast salt marshlands. At Plymouth Plantation, I told a costumed carpenter that he’d find old Plymouth much changed if he went back! We drew maps for each other in the dirt and talked about the Old World and the New.

I wasn’t as daring as the settlers who’d made the journey from England long ago, but I felt an affinity with them. I’d come from a great distance, with high hopes of adventure and a broadening of my world. I gained a deep respect and admiration for the American way of life—for its energy and enthusiasm and family values.

I think we need those strong, caring qualities in a marriage; Giovanni and Tina have them in The Vengeful Groom —a tough grit, a regard for family and a “can do” attitude. With a never-dying love for each other, they’ll be happy together for eternity. Hope you agree!

With affection,

Sara Wood

INVITATION TO ALL COUPLES IN LOVE

We, the citizens of Eternity, take great pleasure in inviting you to hold your wedding at the Powell Chapel. Remember the legend: Those who exchange their vows in the chapel will remain together for the rest of their lives.

So let us help plan your special day. We’ve been making dreams come true for more than a hundred years.

Weddings, Inc.

Eternity Massachusetts

Weddings, Inc.

Directory

Your guide to the perfect Happily-Ever-After

BRIDAL CONSULTANT…. Bronwyn Powell

INVITATIONS & STATIONERY…. Jennifer Thompson

ANTIQUES & GIFTS…. Patience Powell

HAIR SALON…. Dodie Gibson

CATERER…. Manuel Silva

BRIDAL GOWNS…. Emma Webster

FLORIST…. Julianna Van Bassen, Marguerite Van Bassen

LIMOS…. Daniel Murphy

RECEPTION/ ACCOMMODATION…. Lincoln Mathews

TRAVEL AGENCY…. Jacqui Bertrand

PHOTOGRAPHER…. Sarah Powell

LINGERIE, ETC. ….. Christine Bowman

JEWELRY…. Marion Kent

BAKERY…. Lucy Franco

GIFTS…. Jean Stanford

FABRIC…. Marg Chisolm

SHOES…. David Guest

BAND…. Kerry Muldoon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For David Santa Maria, who helped me build the True Love Ranch

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

SHE OUGHT to go over there. Even a Lamborghini could break down—otherwise why would that guy be lying underneath it? Tina shut the apartment door, mesmerized by the seductive lines of the dark green automobile on the derelict lot next door. From beneath the megasize front bumper emerged a pair of leather shoes and a small pool of oil.

Man at work, she thought in amusement, and there was the obligatory crowd—almost a dozen students! Though why the guy had run the car up the clamshell path and parked by the ruined barn, she couldn’t imagine. Her grandfather’s garage stood within pushing distance.

With a quick gesture, she thrust back the disorderly chunks of black hair that had flopped into her eyes from the dash downstairs and contemplated leaving the Lamborghini owner to cope. A slow smile curved the poppy red of her mouth as she speculated on the shock the poor guy must be in!

She could ignore his predicament since her grandfather had ordered her to concentrate on her own pleasures for once and let everything else go hang. Since he’d taken Adriana away on an extended birthday treat, the weekend didn’t involve planning a whole heap of the enriching experiences Adriana needed if she was to progress. Although Tina loved them—from the hilarious cooking sessions at breakfast to the stories she read at night to help Adriana unwind—it meant she never had a moment to herself.

Today she was as free as a bird, with nothing to concern her but which pickle to put on her sandwich. She’d felt a little guilty, a little lost, that morning. Scrambling into her T-shirt and shorts, she’d realized she needn’t hurry for once. No dependents. No detailed planning. No mental exertion. No dealing with emotional dramas. Bliss!

Seven-fifteen. The part-timers would arrive at the garage in half an hour. And business was business. She clambered over the picket fence and strolled toward the students.

“Hi, everyone,” she called amiably.

“Hi, Miss Murphy!” they answered with enthusiasm.

She beamed back and found she had to stretch all of her curvy five-foot-two frame to get a glimpse of the low-slung auto above the milling heads.

“Are you guys studying chiropody this term, or is this a customer for my grandpa?” she asked, nodding in amusement at the leather soles sticking out from beneath the car. To her surprise, the feet wagged as if they enjoyed the feeble joke.

“More’n that, Miss Murphy! Come see!” cried Josh Davis, good-naturedly shoving his neighbors in all directions to clear a space for her.

“Oh, boy!” she murmured in approval, running a connoisseur’s eye over the auto. It would snarl and roar and overtake everything in sight, leaving a choking cloud of dust behind. She smiled. “Grandpa will die to hear he’s missed it!”

“Yeah. Awesome,” breathed Josh. “It’s a Countach! Smooth!”

“As silk,” she agreed fervently, her fingers reaching out with due respect to stroke the satiny finish on the curvaceous bodywork. She loved to touch sensuous objects. She leaned over and sniffed the leather interior. Wonderfully evocative. And then she frowned faintly. Cream linen pants weren’t the most likely gear for wriggling under low-slung cars. How very odd.

It dawned on her that Mr. Rich-in-Trouble had chosen that spot in the sunken path of the garden so he could shoehorn himself beneath the hood and work on the underside. Doing what? she wondered, a little baffled over the limited possibilities. Intrigued, she studied the pool of oil and concluded that it looked rather…arranged.

Lisa Powell distracted her from the mystery. “And sexy,” she sighed dreamily. “Moves like molasses.”

“The car?” murmured Tina dryly.

“No! Him.” Lisa sighed, gazing at the few inches of linen-clad shins as though she coveted everything above and below. “Sex appeal,” she announced with all the assurance of a sixteen-year-old, “is a matter of body language. And eyes that melt tarmac.”

“No wonder he’s got a hole in his car,” said Tina gravely. The students all laughed and the feet did their annoying jiggle. “Since you never mentioned you’ve got X-ray vision on your profile forms for college, Lisa,” she added with a grin, “I suppose you watched the guy slide under there.”

“Yes, and wait till he slides out again!” Lisa gloated. “He’s very exotic. Or do I mean erotic? And his hair is the most extraordinary white-blond…”