By Elizabeth Sinclair
Rebecca Hawks has come domestic to recollect who she used to be sooner than the trap of existence as a social employee in a huge urban approximately destroyed her-and may well, nonetheless. She's moved again to her family's namesake mountain in West Virginia, the place Granny Jo Hawks might help her omit the horrors she'd obvious and been not able to avoid. Ex-Navy Corpsman, Nicholas Hart, has moved to Hawks Mountain in wish that its undying Appalachian serenity may help him conquer his painful battle stories. Now Rebecca and Nicholas needs to locate each one other-and their possibilities of a existence jointly after placing the earlier to rest-on Hawks Mountain. Elizabeth Sinclair is the award-winning, bestselling writer of various romance novels and acclaimed educational books for writers. Her novels were translated into seven languages and are offered in seventeen nations. She lives in St. Augustine, Florida, along with her husband and canine.
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Extra resources for Hawks Mountain
Becky and Granny waited impatiently for word of Jake’s condition. Every time she glanced at the clock it seemed that the hands had frozen in place. Then the door to the back opened, and Dr. Mackenzie came out. Nick followed. He looked even paler than he had been earlier, and he avoided eye contact. Becky’s heart sank. Jake must have been worse than she’d thought. Then the vet smiled. “His leg was broken, but it was a clean break that should heal nicely. He’s not as young as he used to be, so it’ll take a bit longer.
Slowly, savoring the feel of the rough wood against the soles of her feet, she climbed the stairs. When the second step from the top squeaked loud and clear, she nearly laughed aloud with joy. Granny Jo called it her doorbell. “Can’t a soul around here climb those steps and not make that board squeak,” she’d say with a sly grin and a playful wink. ” Then she’d laugh because she knew exactly how to ascend the stairs without hitting the squeaky board, and though Becky had begged her to tell her, Granny Jo had kept her secret from even her small granddaughter for many years.
Becky had said she wanted to explore, but Jo knew the girl had something on her mind and no doubt needed the time to mull it over and decide if and when she wanted to talk about it. “You haven’t changed a jot, Rebecca Jean. You’re just like your daddy, God rest his soul. Used to take you forever to tell me anything when you were a little one. ” Jo sighed, then stepped back and let the red gingham curtain drop back into place over the window. Making her way to the front hall, she picked up Becky’s surprisingly light duffle bag, then carried it up the long flight of stairs to her granddaughter’s old bedroom.