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Precedent for Passion by Amber Cross

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  • Love in the Kingdom Series

    Abby’s imagination hadn’t been playing tricks with her memory.  Glen Plankey is still so attractive he makes her toes curl, even fifteen years after first meeting him in a court room.  And that voice!  Deep and authoritative, she practically melts into a puddle at the sound of it.  She can’t wait to see more of him.

    Glen can’t get away fast enough.  Everything about Abby reminds him of a terrible day in his life, yet his brain turns to adolescent mush at her curves and his heart skips a beat every time she smiles.
        
    Soon undeniable attraction leads to scorching passion and grows into a true love affair.  But is it strong enough to survive when he thinks she has played him for a fool? 

    Rating: Hot
    Page Count: 226
    Word Count: 57038
    978-1-5092-2241-4 Paperback
    978-1-5092-2242-1 Digital

    Excerpt

    Chapter One

     

    So much for getting dolled up. Clutching her jacket closed with two hands, one over her breasts and the other just above her knees, Abby shuffled backward against the cold toward the white, steepled church at the end of the common. The wind parted her hair right down the middle, tossing it every which way, exposing the nape of her neck to icy pellets of rain falling from the gunmetal-gray November sky.

    She had spent an inordinate amount of time on her appearance this morning because, well, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for dressing up in her line of work. When she sat on the bench, she wore black robes that hid her body. In her law practice, seeing clients, she wore nondescript pant suits in masculine colors to hide her ample breasts and even curvier lower half. She needed people to take her seriously. For the same reason her hair was always slicked back into a tight bun and her makeup kept to a minimum. She even wore ugly glasses she didn’t need with thick, plastic frames to disguise any hint of sexuality.

    Not today. Today Judge Henry and her feminist mother would be shocked to see the silky, teal-blue dress she wore beneath her jacket. They would raise their eyebrows at the calf-enhancing heels on her feet, impractical shoes that skidded on the icy sidewalk and forced her to slow down even more, giving the blistering wind time to flay her thick mane of hair and twist it into a snarling mess. At least her makeup was still intact.

    She was already late, thanks to a last-minute phone call from Judge Henry, but she could hardly tell her mentor she didn’t have time to talk. He might think she was joining the throngs of people rushing to retail outlets for Black Friday sales. Something he would definitely view as shallow and nonjudicial. Telling him she was attending a wedding would be almost as bad; maybe worse. After decades spent presiding over family court, he had nothing but contempt for the state of matrimony in Vermont.

    Behind her the church bell began to toll.

    Oh, no. She was truly going to be late for this wedding. Forgivable if she was a close friend or relative, but unacceptable for an acquaintance. That’s all she was, a fellow planning board member and neighbor to the groom, a one-time real estate broker for the bride. She had been both surprised and flattered when they included her on their guest list.

    Turning into the wind to see how far she had to go and how long it would take her, she shuffled along faster. A sudden gust slapped her in the face, icy rain stinging her eyes and tearing the breath from her lungs. She blinked several times. Pulled her lips in and breathed through her nostrils. She could almost feel her waterproof mascara running and her guaranteed not to smudge lipstick smudging. Fairy lights winked at her where they danced from the nude maple trees lining the common like they knew the punch line to a joke she hadn’t yet heard. Shivering, she hurried even faster.

    “Hold up! Hold up!” a man in a wool overcoat shouted when she stepped through the gate onto the church walkway.

    The sudden stop caused her heels to skid across the uneven brick surface. To keep from falling, she reached for the picket fence and let go of her jacket. It was decorative outerwear with only a clasp at the collar, and the sides flapped like crow’s wings into the air. Cold wind molded her dress to her knees, thighs, and breasts, and her nipples reacted to the frigid assault, hard points pushing against the thin fabric.

    She didn’t know the man approaching her, but she was embarrassed just the same. He appeared not to notice. Predictably, his eyes were on her generous curves and not her face, more a reflexive action than a lascivious one, but still she grabbed for one side of her jacket and pulled it across her body.

    “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, meeting her gaze now. “Hear that bell?”

    Of course she heard the bell. That’s why she was hurrying. She didn’t say that, though.

    “I think that means the bride is about to go down the aisle.”

    Abby looked closely at him. He was maybe, just maybe, old enough to buy alcohol; obviously too young to know a tolling bell was the last call for people to come to church before a ceremony begins.

    “Let her in, Bryce,” a voice near the door called out. She hadn’t realized anyone else was outside, but with the wind and rain, why would she have noticed?

    Clutching her coat together again, she picked her way across the bricks toward the entrance while the bell continued tolling above her.

    “Bride or groom?”

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Precedent for Passion

Precedent for Passion

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