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Hidden in the heart of the Home Valley, a secret danger takes root… 

Quiet, cautious Ella Lantz has spent her entire life in the close-knit Amish community of the Home Valley. Tending her lavender fields, she finds calm and serenity in purple blooms, heavenly scents and a simple life. But the sudden arrival of a strange visitor to her parents' home heralds a host of new complications. 

Alex Caldwell is unlike any man Ella has ever met—clearly, he's no "Pennsylvania cousin," whatever the elders may say. In fact, Alex is a Wall Street whistle-blower under witness protection…and he's brought a world of trouble to the Lantz doorstep. 

As Ella comes to trust—even love—a man so utterly worldly, she realizes her life has already changed forever. When it becomes violently clear that even the Home Valley is no refuge, Ella and Alex are driven into the wider world to hide. And with such a high price placed on their silence, they may not survive to share their love….

• Sales Rank: #740018 in Books
• Published on: 2013-09-24
• Released on: 2013-09-24
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.66" h x .94" w x 4.14" l, .40 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 368 pages

Review
"Harper, a master of suspense, keeps readers guessing about crime and love until the very end, while detailed descriptions of the Amish community and the Ohio countryside add to the enjoyment of this thrilling tale." - Booklist on FALL FROM PRIDE (starred review)

"Danger and romance find their way into Ohio Amish country in a lively and endearing first installment of the Amish Home Valley series." - Publishers Weekly on FALL FROM PRIDE

"The author's likable, engaging characters and a strong plot lend additional strength to her ever-amazing descriptions of Amish life." - RT Book Reviews on RETURN TO GRACE

"Haunting suspense, tender romance and an evocative look at the complexities of Amish life-DARK ANGEL is simply riveting!"-Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author

About the Author

Karen Harper is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of romantic suspense. A former Ohio State University English instructor, she now writes full time. Harper is the winner of The Mary Higgins Clark Award for her novel, DARK ANGEL. She also writes historical novels set in Tudor England.  Please visit or write her at her website at  www.KarenHarperAuthor.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


June 20, 2011

Ella Lantz's field of lavender, edging toward full bloom, stretched as far as her eyes could see. But, she admitted, peering out from under her bonnet brim, that was only because the humped, wide-set rows of the fragrant purple plants went up the hill and disappeared from sight. She had almost an acre of the sweet stuff and, as Grossmamm Ruth put it, with no man or marriage coming down the pike, her little garden of Eden here in Eden County was her future.

With her curved hand sickle, Ella cut an armful of the earliest, hardy English lavender, then rushed down to where her widowed brother, Seth, was loading the wagon with his household goods. Beside him in the wagon sat Hannah Esh, Ella's good friend, whom he was going to marry this Friday, in just four days.

Even though Amish weddings usually avoided the farming months, everyone agreed they'd waited a long time. Their borrowed wagon was filled with the rest of Seth's furniture, which was going into storage in the Troyer barn until his and Hannah's house was done. Meanwhile, the newlyweds were going to live in the big Troyer house while Seth would build first his and Hannah's home, then one for the youngest Troyer son, Josh, and his wife, Naomi. So many weddings, Ella thought, but none of them hers. Both Naomi and Hannah were her friends, and she wanted to send enough lavender with Seth to scent the Troyers' house, then later the wedding itself at Hannah's family home.

Ella was grateful to the Troyers for hiring her oldest brother in these tight times. And, she was getting a house of her own in the bargain. Seth was giving her his two-story home on this property. She planned to live upstairs and make the downstairs into a lavender workshop and store where she could oversee a small staff to make potpourri, candles and soap.

"Here, for Mrs. Troyer," Ella said, and lifted the big bundle of blooms up to Hannah, who cradled them across her knees. On the wagon seat between her and Seth perched three-year-old Marlena, Seth's little girl, who adored her new mother-to-be. The child smiled and waved down at her aunt Ella, who had helped to care for her since her mother died two years ago.

One of the four big Belgians hitched to the wagon snorted and stamped a huge hoof. They were anxious to be off. Ella knew Seth and Marlena were only going four miles away, but she would miss them. Suddenly, the small home she was inheriting here seemed miles from the big Lantz farmhouse where her parents and two younger siblings lived.

"Oh, they smell so good!" Hannah said, sniffing the spiky blooms with their purple tips. "Remember, I'll help you when I can at your new store."

"When you can won't be much," Ella told her with a playful punch on her leg. "Not with taking care of Marlena. Besides, you have a lot of catching up to do since you've been helping Ray-Lynn manage her restaurant."

Ray-Lynn Logan was their Englische friend who owned and operated the Dutch Farm Table Restaurant in the nearby little town of Homestead. The kindly woman, who was recovering from an accident and a coma, shared ownership of the popular eating and meeting spot with Jack Freeman, the county sheriff and Ray-Lynn's close friend. Hannah had been living with Ray-Lynn for a while, after Ray-Lynn's accident, and would stay with her until her wedding.

"Gotta go now, Ella," Seth called down to her. "Enjoy the house. If you need help building the shelves, just let me know."

"Oh,ya, I'll just get on your waiting list, you mean!" she kidded him. She smiled through her tears and bit her lower lip as he giddyapped the horses. To lose little Marlena from her care made her so sad… Before that last wagonful of Seth's household goods rattled down the gravel driveway, the rest of the Lantz family, who had helped him load, came out into the front yard to wave goodbye. Ella wondered where they'd disappeared to while she'd picked the lavender.

Her parents, Eben and Anna, waved goodbye as did her sprightly grandmother Ruth, age 80, who lived with them. Mamm and Daad shouted advice in their Deutsche dialect as if Seth and Hannah—and their only grandchild, Marlena—were leaving for the ends of the earth.

Abel, age twenty-six, Ella's second-oldest brother, not wed yet, who farmed the fields with Daad, looked sad. He would miss their oldest brother too. Barbara, sixteen, and Aaron, fourteen, the youngest, who was aching for his running around rumspringa time to begin, both turned quickly away and headed back toward the big farmhouse. Ella, at twenty-four, was the middle child of the five of them. She'd felt that way too—stuck in the middle, not quite companions of the two oldest boys or her two much younger siblings. That was probably why she'd made two close friends over the years—Hannah and Sarah, who had gone to the world and been shunned.

Ella was surprised to see an outsider watching from the porch as everyone hurried back inside. So when had he arrived, and where was his car? Who was he? Maybe that's why everyone had disappeared inside for a while.

Yet she hesitated to follow her family back inside the house. Despite living with so many people, she often chose to be alone, especially when she felt the drowning darkness swirling toward her. No good to have someone see her that way, especially since an Amish girl, who trusted in her faith to pull her through, couldn't escape its clutches. Going off on her own when that inner darkness came, she'd managed to keep her terrible secret from even those closest to her. Ever since she'd almost died ten years ago, she'd felt not only blessed but cursed….

"Ella, come here!" Her father's voice pulled her from her agonizing. "Something for the whole family to hear!" Holding the porch door open, he wind-milled his arm. As she hurried toward the house, she saw her mother's white face in the window, peering out at her—or else watching the road, even though Seth's wagon was out of sight. What was going on? It surely had something to do with that stranger.

Taking a shortcut down the row with her late-blooming French lavender, she broke into a run.

Alexander Caldwell was really a wreck. This area reminded him of an old Clint Eastwood Western rerun. He saw horses and buggies, people in hats and bonnets, big barns and farmhouses with no phone or electric wires, no satellite TV dishes. And he was to be a part of all this, he marveled, as the black buggy clip-clopped along at such a slow speed he could actually see what usually blurred past beside the road. Hopefully, somewhere up ahead, Gerald Branin, his link to the outside world, was laying the groundwork for this huge deception that could mean life or death to him, especially since the shooter in his attempted Atlanta assassination had not been caught.

Gerald, his WITSEC manager, had sounded so certain that the heart of Amish country was the best place for him to hide out until the trial. This was a one-eighty from his own life in Manhattan. This was Podunk, the boondocks, the sticks, aka Homestead, Ohio, in Eden County. Soon enough his testimony at the trial would splash his name across the country and the world. But since the attempt on his life and at the urging of his lawyer, Logan Reese, he had finally admitted he needed to hide out. The feds had convinced him to try Amish anonymity.

He could, he thought perversely, envision the headlines now: Former NYC Exec Exposes Corporate Espionage by CEO of Tech Firm Skybound, Inc…. Investors Left Devastated and Furious… Chinese Businesses In- volved… Atlanta Assassination Attempt Financed by— Why, You Name It: Alexander Caldwell's rich and powerful former boss? The Chinese who want to shut Caldwell up to avoid sanctions? Irate investors? Place your bets on who would most like to shut the whistle-blowing witness up for good.

"Best put that hat back on," Bishop Joseph Esh, who was driving the buggy, told him. "It's to wear, not bend in your hands. Make you harder to pick out among our people, ya, it will."

"Oh, right," Alex said, smoothing and replacing it on his head. He couldn't get used to his Amish hairstyle, either, or the lack of zippers on his broadfall-style pants, the suspenders, or the five hundred dollars Branin had given him in small bills, when he was used to credit cards. No smartphone, which he missed horribly. Like an idiot he kept lifting his wrist to check his Rolex for the time when he didn't and couldn't wear a watch—and did time even matter in this place? At least he was playing a younger, unwed man, so he didn't have to grow a beard. This elderly man had a long, white one.

"I do appreciate everything, sir," he told his host.

"Sir is too worldly. Bishop or just Joseph is good for me. Be careful not to talk much in front of strangers and just nod when we speak the Deutsche but for those few words I told you. Too bad you got to use lies to protect the truth. Learned it the hard way myself, but the ends sometimes justify the means. You got your story straight?"

"Yes—ya. My manager rehearsed it with me, so I won't rattle my bio—biography—off again. I guess this has never happened before, that your people have sheltered a kind of fugitive."

"Nope. Did it because we owe FBI Agent Lincoln Armstrong a favor for helping solve a crime in these parts and your man Branin is a friend of his. And because Armstrong canceled a money debt my daughter Hannah owed him. I would take you in myself but too many people in and out of a bishop's home. We all—you too, I know—hope this won't last long."

"That's for sure. I'd like to get this over, sanely and safely."

"Life is precious, each one. You got a lot to live for. Enjoy and treasure each day. We all do."

Bishop Esh turned the buggy onto another curving, hilly road with a metal signpost that read Oakridge, and a hand-lettered one under it with an arrow. Lavender Plain Products, No Sunday Sales.

"We what?" Ella heard her brother Abel ask Daad as she hurried into the kitchen where her family and the stranger were gathered around the big table. She took off her bonnet, draped the tied strings over the back of her usual chair and sat. Pieces of shoofly pie and raspberry iced tea were at each place. Abel went on, "Take in an Englischer and say he's our cousin?

But why, Daad?"

Daad shot Abel a sharp look. Ella could tell their worldly visitor wanted to answer but deferred to their father.

"Partly in thanks," Daad answered, "for what Agent Armstrong did for the Eshes. The bishop asked us to house this man we will call our cousin Andrew Lantz from Intercourse, Pennsylvania, though he is really an Auslander from a big Eastern American city. Andrew will work with us, work the fields. He will be with us until at least late summer, maybe longer. We will not question him about his true identity or his past. He is a good man. Now Mr. Branin here will say a bit more before our guest arrives."

Ella noted Daad frowned at Aaron for rolling his eyes at the mention of Intercourse. She'd heard Aaron and a couple of guys from his buddy group snickering over the name of that town before. Ah, those almost-ready-for-rumspringa years, when Amish teens enjoyed running around and trying worldly things. She should have cut loose more, but after her accident, she was so afraid of doing anything wrong, of setting off the darkness again.

She studied the Auslander. Mr. Branin was a short, wiry man whose red hair was fading to gray and creeping up pretty high on his forehead. He had sunglasses sticking out of his pocket, both the pockets and glasses sure signs he was an Englischer. He was dressed half fancy, half country in a white-sleeved shirt with jeans and running shoes. He wore a gold watch and wedding ring, which stood out here. He leaned forward with his elbows on the kitchen table as he talked, gesturing so much he almost punched Barbara in the face and she scooted back in her chair.

"I know it won't be easy to pretend a stranger is part of the family," Mr. Branin said. "But when the bishop brought me here a while ago in his buggy, he assured me that you and your people will take good care of this man. I must admit this is a radical placement for a witness, and I want to assure you that Andrew Lantz has done nothing wrong. Sometimes this program is forced to protect criminals who are informing on worse criminals, but that is not the case here. Andrew is helping our country at great risk to himself—a risk we will eliminate by hiding him here in a world so different from his own. Among your people, we appreciate that even the photographing of faces is not permitted."

"And," Daad said, "the new owner who bought the county newspaper, so far at least, is not like those big newspaper people, always poking into our privacy."

"Good," Mr. Branin went on. "And I assure you, I'll make a visit every once in a while." He looked from face to face and, evidently, since he hadn't been introduced to Ella before, nodded at her. "Sometimes you may be aware of my presence, but sometimes not."

Ella thought that sounded funny. Was this man going to hide in haystacks or up on the hill above her field? She sure didn't need someone spying on her, especially if she had to go off alone. She took a drink of iced tea and tucked into her piece of pie. For a moment, silence descended, but for the clink of forks on plates and Aaron's fidgeting and shuffling his big feet under the table.

"Someone's going to have to tell Seth," Ella said, her pie halfway to her mouth.

"I told him and Hannah first," Daad said. "They will keep Andrew's secret too."

"But the others," she plunged on, ignoring Mr. Bra-nin's frown, "the neighbors, the church…"

"We have been helped, and we will help in turn," Daad said. "We will be the Good Samaritan to this wounded man."

This wounded man? Ella thought. She'd sure like to know more about what had happened to the outsider they were taking in.

Bishop Esh's words seemed to cut to the core of things, something Alex had always admired in mentors and bosses, even Marv, whom he was going to betray—as his boss had betrayed everyone who'd trusted him and SkyBound.

"It's like you been banned from your people for a while, and we understand that." The old man went on, "And to tell the truth as you have about a sinner, at cost to your own safety—that is also why I said yes to the witness protection people. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters… that is why too. As the Lord shelters us, we ought to shelter others."

Most helpful customer reviews

18 of 19 people found the following review helpful.
Disagree with Majority
By Harisa
Okay, let me start off by writing that I love Amish fiction and I am a very big fan of romance novels and I think ones with mystery/suspense added to it provide a new layer of intrigue and interest that is irresistible in novels. I also usually trust amazon reviews and star rating with books I pick up after browsing the shelves of my local library. So when I saw the Amish, Romance, and Mystery genre all rolled into one with a pretty cover and the word "Mercy" I was pretty excited to start this book. But it was a huge, huge disappointment. I don't see what everyone else does here.

The biggest grievance I have is the characters, which suck. Someone mentioned the swearing in the novel and I'm surprised that reviewer even registered the bad words from all the other little surprises! I have never read an Amish novel so sexually explicit. Coming from someone who used to read trashy Romance novels, I could not believe the author put an Amish young woman in such situations. I also don't understand how the love interest, Alex, can even be halfway likable after realizing he was probably taking advantage of her--but he kept doing it! I have to admit I stopped reading about halfway, I just couldn't do it anymore. I understand struggling with your faith and struggling with purity, we all struggle with that in different ways but this storyline was not explored at all! It's just hard for me to take her faith seriously when she doesn't even question her own sin. In other Amish novels characters have felt guilty for less. Just a very sad portrayal of faith, I think, and that's not what I look for in Amish literature.

If you think I'm just a prude and you can handle reading scenes like that in a book centered in the Amish faith, fine, but let me tell you that it completely contradicts with what the characters think and say. Ella, the main character, wants to lead Alex into her faith and more importantly into trusting God. RIGHT after she says this what do we read? How she is "almost riding him like a horse." Yes. That exact wording. Wow. What a wonderful way to bring someone to the Lord. Great job.

They're not even young! They should be more mature at 24 and 32 and it's just plain unrealistic and borderline disgusting that I have to read about this.

I also found out that Amish women don't wear bras. Because that fact was relevant to the story line, obviously

Again, the whole 'not fighting back' thing was very emphasized and ella made sure to really make sure Alex understood that part of her faith but when it came to stopping him from groping her? Nope! He could keep going because he was so good at it. Ugh.

I apologize for the rant-esque quality of this review but to put it simply I do NOT recommend it. The mystery and even romance are NOT developed well at all and it's frankly very unbelievable and very silly. I will leave you with a quote from our hero, Alex, written by Karen Harper...
"He longed to comfort [Ella], but right now he needed comforting himself."

Classy. What a champ.

If you're looking for GOOD Amish literature I'll recommend two GREAT authors to send you off on your search for more!
Shelley Shepard Gray
Cindy Windsmall

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Finding Mercy
By gramalilo
I enjoy most of Karen Harper's books, but especially the stories of the Amish. I admire the Amish in their strong religious beliefs and their way of living. I come from a farming background and know the life they lead is not easy. But to read about the drama that sometimes occurs when the different lifestyles and how it might be handled in a story is intriguing.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
exciting rendition of Witness with a twist
By A Customer
Thirtyish Alex Caldwell detests what has happened to his life ever since he turned witness against his ex-boss Marv Boynton who conducted illegal deals with the Chinese. Alec rejected the witness protection program while waiting for the trial to begin. He knows his career on Wall Street is dead as is the firm SkyBound he worked for but hopes to start over soon. In Atlanta while his bodyguard Jake sleeps, Alec steps out only to have someone shoot at him.

The hit attempt leads to Alec placed in WITSEC where he is hidden amongst the Amish in Home Valley, Ohio. Alec meets Ella Lantz, the daughter of his hosts. They are attracted to one another though she knows he is not Amish even if the elders imply otherwise that his difference comes from being a Pennsylvania cousin. As they fall in love, the outside world intrudes with hit men trying to kill Alec; collateral damage being acceptable. As the couple flees Eden County, accompanied by her grosmamm, the enemy pursues them.

The third Home Valley Amish romance (see Return to Grace and Fall From Pride) is an exciting rendition of Witness with the twist that the lead couple flees Amish country. Fast-paced and filled with action, readers will appreciate this love on the run romantic suspense.

Harriet Klausner

See all 49 customer reviews...

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• Sales Rank: #133590 in Books
• Brand: Mira
• Published on: 2010-11-23
• Released on: 2010-11-23
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .76" w x 4.21" l, .30 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 304 pages

Features

• Great product!

About the Author

Debbie Macomber, with more than 100 million copies of her books sold worldwide, is one of today's most popular authors. The #1 New York Times bestselling author is best known for her ability to create compelling characters and bring their stories to life in her books. Debbie is a regular resident on numerous bestseller lists, including the New York Times (70 times and counting), USA TODAY (currently 67 times) and Publishers Weekly (47 times). Visit her at www.DebbieMacomber.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


1998

"Eternal rest grant upon her, oh, Lord…." Lorraine Dancy closed her eyes as the first shovelful of dirt hit her mother's casket. The sound seemed to reverberate around her, magnified a hundred times, drowning out the words intoned by Father Darien. This was her mother— her mother—and Virginia Dancy deserved so much more than a cold blanket of Kentucky mud.

Lorraine had received word the evening of April first that her mother had been involved in a horrible freeway accident. In the beginning she'd thought it was some kind of cruel hoax, a distasteful practical joke, but the mud-splattered casket was real enough to rip her heart wide open.

Her chest tightened with the effort to hold back tears. A low mewling escaped her lips and her trembling increased as she listened to the priest's words in the gray afternoon.

After a while, the friends who'd come to say their last farewells started to move away. Father Darien gently took hold of Lorraine's hands and in sincere compassionate tones offered a few final words of comfort. Reaching deep within herself, Lorraine managed to thank him.

Still, she remained, standing by her mother's grave.

"Sweetheart." Gary Franklin, her fiance, stepped closer and placed his arm around her waist. "It's time to go home."

She resisted and held her ground when Gary tried to steer her toward the waiting limo. She wasn't ready to leave her mother. Not yet. Please, not yet. It made everything so final…to turn her back and walk away.

This shouldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. But the reality of the moment was undeniable—the open grave, the nearby headstones, the muddy ground. Her fears assailed her from all sides, sending a chill down her spine. Lorraine wasn't sure she could survive without her mother's love and support. Virginia had been her touchstone. Her example. Her mother.

"Sweetheart, I know this is difficult, but you can't stay here." Gary again tried to urge her away from the grave.

"No," she said, her voice stronger now. What made it all the more difficult, all the more painful, was the complete lack of warning. Lorraine had talked to her mother that very weekend. They were so close; it had been the two of them against the world for as long as Lorraine could remember. Not a day passed that they didn't connect in some way—with a conversation, a visit, an email message. On Saturday they'd spent more than an hour on the phone discussing plans for the wedding.

Her mother had been delighted when Lorraine accepted Gary's proposal. Virginia had always liked Gary and encouraged the relationship from the beginning. Gary and her mother had gotten along famously.

Just last weekend—just a few days ago—her mother had been alive. During their phone call Virginia had chatted endlessly about the kind of wedding she wanted for her only child. They'd discussed the wedding dress, the bridesmaids, the flowers, the invitations. Lorraine had never heard her mother sound more excited. In her enthusiasm, Virginia had even mentioned her own wedding all those years ago and the only man she'd ever loved. She rarely spoke of Lorraine's father. That was the one thing she didn't share with her daughter—at least not since Lorraine's early teens. Those were private memories, and it was as though Virginia held them close to her heart. They'd sustained her through the long lonely years of widowhood.

Lorraine couldn't remember her father, who'd died when she was three. Her mother had loved Thomas Dancy so completely she'd never entertained the thought of remarrying. No man, she'd once told Lorraine, could live up to the memory of the one she'd lost.

Her parents' love story was possibly the most romantic Lorraine had ever heard. When she was small, her mother had often told her how wonderful Thomas had been. In later years, of course, she hardly ever talked about him, but Lorraine remembered those long-ago stories—of her father being a decorated war hero and how her parents had defied everyone by getting married. They were the adventure tales, the marvelous bedtime stories of her early childhood, and they'd made a deep and lasting impression on her. It was one of the reasons Lorraine had waited until she was twenty-eight before becoming engaged herself. For years she'd been searching for a man like her father, a man who was noble. Honest. Brave. A man of integrity and high ideals. No one seemed right until Gary Franklin came into her life.

"Lorraine, everyone's gone." Gary's arm tightened around her waist.

"Not yet. Please." She couldn't leave her mother, not like this. Not in a cold wet grave when Virginia Dancy hadn't even reached the age of fifty. The pain was more than Lorraine could bear. As the agony of the moment overwhelmed her, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"Come on, honey, let me get you away from here," Gary murmured in a compassionate voice.

Lorraine took a step in retreat. She didn't want Gary. She didn't want anyone except her mother. And her mother was in a grave. "Oh, Mom," she cried, then broke into sobs, unable to stop herself.

Gary turned her in his arms and held her protectively against him. "Let it out, sweetheart. It's okay. Go ahead and cry."

Lorraine hid her face in his shoulder and wept as she hadn't since that night the state patrolman had come to her with the tragic news. How long Gary let her weep, she didn't know. Until her eyes stung and her nose ran and there were no more tears to shed.

"The house is going to fill up and you'll need to be there," Gary reminded her.

"Yes, we should go," she agreed, and wiped her nose with the tissue he handed her, grateful that Virginia's neighbor, Mrs. Henshaw, would be there to let everyone in. Lorraine was calmer now, more self-possessed. People would want to talk about her mother, and since Lorraine was the only one left in the family, she'd have to be in control of her emotions.

Together she and Gary started toward the parking lot. Away from her mother. Away from the only parent she'd ever known.

Lorraine's one, small comfort was the knowledge that after twenty-five years apart, her parents were finally together again.

Lorraine couldn't sleep, but then she hadn't really expected to. She should be exhausted. She was exhausted; she'd barely slept in days. This past week had been the most emotionally draining of her life. But even now, after the funeral and the wake, she was too restless to collapse into sleep.

Gary seemed to think that spending the night at her mother's house wasn't the best idea. He was probably right. Her judgment, along with everything else, had been thrown off-kilter by her mother's death.

The wake had been here, at Virginia's place, since Lorraine's apartment was much too small to host the event, and a restaurant seemed too impersonal. Parishioners from St. John's Church where Virginia had faithfully attended Mass all these years, plus a large group of neighbors, coworkers and friends, had lingered to tell Lorraine how sorry they were. They, too, appeared to have difficulty accepting the suddenness of her mother's death.

Virginia had been an active member of St. John's and a devout Catholic. For twenty years she sang in the choir and worked tirelessly for her church "family." As a stockbroker with a large national firm, she'd made a name for herself in the business world. Turnover at the firm was high, and Virginia had learned that office friendships were often fleeting. Nevertheless, the house had been crammed with people.

Contrary to what Lorraine had assumed, she wasn't needed as hostess. Friends and neighbors arrived bearing casseroles, breads and salads, which soon covered the dining-room table. The extras spilled into the kitchen and lined the countertops.

Lorraine was grateful to everyone, especially Gary who'd been both helpful and kind. Yet throughout the wake, all Lorraine had wanted was to be alone, to grieve by herself without people pressing in on her. But that wasn't possible. It took her a while to realize that the friends who'd come were in need of solace, too. So she'd thanked them for their condolences and done her best to take on the role of comforter. Before long, she'd found herself depleted of energy, and she'd sunk into her mother's favorite chair. Sitting there helped her feel closer to the mother she'd loved so deeply. It eased the ache of loneliness that threatened to consume her in a room full of people.

An endless stream of sympathy and advice had come at her.

"Of course you'll want to keep the house…"

Lorraine had nodded.

"Naturally you'll be selling the house…"

Lorraine had nodded.

"Your mother was a fine woman."

"We're all going to miss her."

"She's in a happier place now…"

".such a senseless tragedy."

Lorraine had agreed with one and all.

By the time everyone had left, it was dark. Gary had helped her with the cleanup and urged her to return to her own apartment. Or to his. He didn't seem to understand her need to stay here, but how could he? He'd never lost a parent.

"You should go on home," she'd told him. "I'll be fine."

"Darling, you shouldn't be alone. Not tonight."

"It's what I want," she'd insisted, yearning for him to leave. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and one she didn't fully comprehend. She loved Gary, planned to spend the rest of her life with him, but at that moment she'd wanted him out the door. She had to deal with her grief and pain in her own way.

"You need me," Gary told her with loving concern.

"I do," she said. "Just not right now."

Disappointment registered in his deep brown eyes and he nodded with obvious reluctance. "You'll phone if you change your mind?"

Lorraine had said she would.

He'd kissed her on the forehead in a sweet gesture of love and consolation. Shivering with the evening's cold, Lorraine had stood out on the porch and watched him drive off.

She'd cleared away the dishes, then wandered aimlessly through the house, pausing in the entrance to each room. Tenderly she caressed the things that had once been her mother's most prized possessions. She closed her eyes and pictured her mother and father together at last and the wonderful reunion they must be enjoying.

Lorraine was comforted by the knowledge that Virginia had been happy during the last weeks of her life. She'd been thrilled at the news of her daughter's engagement, thrilled at the prospect of planning a large formal wedding. No sooner had Lorraine said yes to Gary's proposal than Virginia had started making elaborate plans for the October wedding. She'd valued tradition and frowned on Lorraine's having chosen a small emerald necklace in lieu of the usual engagement ring.

"You have your wish now, Mom," she said aloud. The wedding ring on her left hand had belonged to her mother. The inside of the band was engraved with the words "I'll love you always. Thomas." The funeral director had given it to her that very day, just before he'd closed the casket. Lorraine had slipped it on and wouldn't remove it until the time came for her own wedding. Her mother had worn this ring since the day Thomas Dancy placed it on her finger, and now Lorraine would wear it, too.

"What am I going to do without you, Mom?" Lorraine said into the stillness of the night, her eyes welling with tears. It surprised her that she had any left.

She mulled over everything she'd done that had been a disappointment to her mother. She'd dropped out of medical school after her second year and trained as a nurse-practitioner, instead. Virginia had said little, but Lorraine knew her mother regretted that decision. She liked to think she'd made up for it when she met Gary, who sold medical supplies to Group Wellness, where Lorraine worked.

The fact that she'd become a lapsed Catholic had distressed her mother, as well, but Lorraine had never identified with the church the way Virginia had. She attended a nondenominational Christian church, but her mother would have preferred she remain Catholic.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," she whispered, knowing she'd let her mother down in countless other ways.

When she'd finished her emotional journey through the house, Lorraine had taken a hot shower and changed into a nightgown, one she'd bought Virginia the previous Christmas. After giving the matter some thought, she'd chosen to sleep in her mother's room, rather than her own. When she was frightened as a child, she'd always climbed into her mother's bed. Lorraine was frightened now, afraid of the future, afraid to be without Virginia, without family.

As she lay there sleepless, she gathered her memories around her, finding consolation in the happiness they'd experienced. Day-to-day life had been full of shared pleasures, like cooking elaborate meals together, watching the classic movies they both loved, exchanging favorite books. Virginia also worked for several church-sponsored charities, and Lorraine sometimes spent an evening helping her pack up boxes of food for needy families, or stuffing envelopes. Her mother had been a wonderful woman, and Lorraine was proud of her. She'd been devout in her faith, hardworking, kindhearted. Smart, but generous, too.

After an hour or so, Lorraine gave up even trying to sleep. She sat up and reached for the framed photograph of her parents, which rested on the nightstand. The picture showed Virginia as young and beautiful, wearing a full, ankle-length dress with a wreath of wildflowers on her head. Her long straight hair fell nearly to her waist. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers in one hand; with the other hand she clasped her husband's. Her eyes had been bright with happiness as she smiled directly into the camera.

The Thomas Dancy in the picture was tall and bearded, and wore his hair tied in a ponytail. He gazed at his bride with an identical look of love and promise. Anyone who saw the photograph could tell that the two of them had been deeply in love.

As recently as last weekend, when they'd been discussing Lorraine's wedding plans, she'd teased her mother about the photo, calling her parents "flower children." Virginia had been good-natured about it and merely said, "That was a long time ago."

Sadly this photograph was the only one Lorraine had of her parents together. Everything else had been destroyed in a fire when she was in grade school. Lorraine remembered the fire, not realizing until years later all that she'd lost. Her parents' photographs and letters, her father's medals.

Lorraine knew that Virginia O'Malley had met Thomas Dancy her freshman year in college and they'd quickly fallen in love. The war in Vietnam had separated them when her father volunteered for the army in 1970. He'd survived the war and come home a hero. It was a year later, during a routine physical, that something unusual had shown up in his blood work. That something had turned out to be leukemia. Within six months, Thomas was dead and Virginia was a young widow with a child.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
All three met and surpassed my expectation. The stories ...
By Geraldine R Morales
All three met and surpassed my expectation. The stories in this series were willed with adventure, romance and survival. Will look for more of these types of books.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Cynthia bigley
Like the trilogy this was missing piece

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Nene
Very good book great author

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Her new job was a Killer Chloe Underwood had come to Paris looking for adventure and landed up living hand-to-mouth as a children's book translator. So when she's offered a lucrative weekend translating at an international business conference in a remote chateau, she leaps at the opportunity. Then Chloe discovers her employers aren't the boring businessmen they seem. Suddenly, she's running for her life from a group of international and highly illegal arms dealers - and now Chloe knows too much to be allowed to live..."A master at creating chilling atmosphere with a modern touch" - Library Journal

• Sales Rank: #1284797 in Books
• Brand: Mira
• Published on: 2005-05-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 1.06" h x 4.20" w x 6.82" l, .40 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

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• Great product!

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. This taut romantic suspense novel from RITA Award–winner Stuart (The Widow) delivers deliciously evil baddies and the type of disturbing male protagonist that only she can transform into a convincing love interest. Chloe Underwood, a 23-year-old American who regards herself as a disappointment to her high-achieving family, makes a meager living in Paris by translating children's books into English. After accepting a last-minute translating job in the French countryside, she discovers that rather than working for a consortium of food executives, she's stumbled upon a group of sadistic international arms dealers. Cold-blooded assassin Bastian Touissant, who was sent a year earlier by a nebulous "the ends justify the means" agency to infiltrate this shady group and try to stop its illegal activity, seems to blend right in. On meeting Chloe, Bastian isn't sure whether she's a spy, perhaps sent to kill him, or the innocent she appears to be. Despite his ruthlessness, Bastian can't resist saving Chloe's life (on multiple, graphic occasions) and attempting to send her back to her family in the U.S. Brilliant characterizations and a suitably moody ambience drive this dark tale of unlikely love. Agent, Jane Dystel. (May)

Review
". . . [a] sexy, edgy, exceptionally well-plotted tale." -- Library Journal on Into the Fire

"A master at creating chilling atmosphere with a modern touch." -- Library Journal

About the Author
Anne Stuart loves Japanese rock and roll, wearable art, Spike, her two kids, Clairefontaine paper, quilting, her delicious husband of thirty-four years, fellow writers, her three cats, telling stories and living in Vermont. She's not too crazy about politics and diets and a winter that never ends, but then, life's always a trade-off. Visit her at www.Anne-Stuart.com.

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36 of 39 people found the following review helpful.
Stuart dazzles again!
By Deborah MacGillivray
Chloe Underwood comes from a family of doctors. Mother, father, siblings. They wish to pressure her into going to medical school, but at twenty-three, Chloe knows this is not the life for her - especially since she faints at the sight of blood. This is a theme common to Stuart's writings, apparent if you are a long time fan - which I happen to be. That feeling out of sync with one's family heroine is generally at the core of all Stuart's females. They drum to their own drumbeat, which makes the perfect target for the perfect Stuart badder-than-bad-boy, Gamma rogue, anti-hero hero. A pure case of opposites attracts to the power of ten.

In this Stuart tale, Chloe is an American in Paris. She is living on her shoestring salary of translating children's books, refusing to ask for money from her parents to get by. The parents refuse to accept one of their blood cannot be a doctor so they are keep the purse string tight hoping to bring Chloe to heel. Chloe's roommate wants to dash off with her latest boyfriend for the weekend. Only problem, she has accept a job to be translator for a group of businessmen for the weekend. She hits on the idea of sending Chloe in her place.

We quickly learn this was a bad idea. That is the one sticking point of the whole tale. Chloe is spirited to a secluded Chateau, and upon arrival the man hosting it want to send Chloe back. Chloe is getting bad vibes about the whole situation, but instead of accepting him sending her back she convinces him to let her stay. We are told Chloe can use the money and that she is restless looking for something to jazz up her life. Still, those reasons seem just a tad week when she is having misgivings about this set up.

These feelings of qualms continue to increase as she is introduced to the rest of the group, and they break into Italian. Supposedly Chloe speaks only English and French, but actually she speaks nearly a dozen languages. She thinks she covers well, listening to them discuss her and wanting her sent back to town. Okies. I would be out of there! But since this is the Resident Genius of Dark Romantic Suspense, I let Stuart run with the tale.

Chloe is immediately attracted to the sexy bad boy in the group. Bastien Toussaint is pure Stuart Gamma Rogue to the teeth. Sexy, dangerous as sticking your fingers in a fan, and just a bit weary of life in general. He's been so deep undercover for a mysterious group called The Committee, and figures he will have to kill or be killed before the weekend is over. Bastien is not thrilled to see Chloe, a lamb thrown in amongst the wolves. And with good reasons. These are illegal arms dealers. Murder and Mayhem is their stock in trade. It didn't take him two minutes to figure out Chloe understood everything being said - in every language. Worse, that talent will cost Chloe her life as one of them is ordered to kill her because they fear she now knows too much.

The next thing Chloe knows, she is off, running for her life with sexy Bastien. It a taught, edgy, sexy tale with Stuart at her best. Black Ice is ice so clear that it's deceptive. You don't see it till it's too late. Stuart's book come sat you're the same way! Echoes of her brilliant work Moonrise.

If you like your tales dark and your heroes darker...then strap on your ice-skates and take on the black ice!

29 of 32 people found the following review helpful.
Wonderful Thriller with a Dark and Dangerous Hero!
By ellejir
"Black Ice" is a wonderful *treat* of a book for readers who love Anne Stuart and her "bad boy" heroes. It is a page-turner that I could barely put down with a dark, compelling hero and sympathetic heroine.

Chloe Underwood is an American in Paris, living in a tiny apartment and making a living by translating children's books into French. One day, while translating a book about a ferret in a tutu, she ironically observes that she does not have enough sex and violence in her life....and (boy, oh, boy!) she *should* have been careful what she wished for! Almost immediately, she is convinced by her flighty roommate to take her place as translator for a group of businessmen at a weekend conference outside of Paris. Chloe needs the money, and she will get to wear her roommate's chic clothes, so she agrees.

Arriving at the remote chateau for the conference, Chloe is introduced to the participants, including the dangerously attractive and seductive Bastien Toussaint. Unfortunately for Chloe, she is much sharper and more observant than her roommate, and it does not take her very long to figure out that the "entrepreneurs" are really illegal arms dealers. A little bit of unwise snooping around, and Chloe has gotten herself into some *serious* trouble and finds herself on the run with Bastien from people who want her dead.

Chloe is an engaging heroine--young, confused by Bastien's attentions (and particularly by her own reactions to him), disastrously inquisitive, brave and fairly resourceful. She does some really stupid things, but she is a likable and believable heroine. Bastien is one of Anne Stuart's deliciously dangerous bad boy heroes. A cross between the hero of her own book "Moonrise" and Robert Ludlum's Jason Bourne, Bastien is a marvelously complex hero--a sexy chameleon and efficient killer who has come to detest the type of work that he does and realize that there is not much difference between the sides working for good and evil in this type of conflict.

The plot is face-paced and exciting and the sexual tension is excellently done. The attraction between Chloe and Bastien is very believable and the sex scenes are smokin' hot. My only complaint with the book was that it seemed to end rather abruptly (I actually turned the page looking for the next chapter, but that was it!)

In summary, this is an excellent romantic thriller with lots of action and a complex, attractive but morally ambiguous hero. Fans of Anne Stuart will be delighted by "Black Ice". I know that I enjoyed every minute of it!
Highly recommended!

31 of 35 people found the following review helpful.
Not always realistic, but a wild, enjoyable ride!
By baltimore0502
This is my first book by Anne Stuart and I keep wondering what took me so long to discover her! I'm a sucker for bad boys and it seems Ms Stuart is the queen of bad boy anti-heroes. Yes, there is much here that seems unrealistic but if you're willing to suspend belief on some things, there is also a really enjoyable story here.

Chloe is a young, fairly naive translator living in Paris to escape her wealthy family and their expectations back home in North Carolina. When her ditzy, gold digging roommate arranges for Chloe to take her place translating for a business conference, she finds herself in an isolated, fortified chateau wondering what the heck she's gotten herself into. Then she meets a mysterious and very sexy man and just knows that she is in serious danger. And she is.

Bastien Toussaint is a covert agent for a shadowy organization trying to infiltrate an illegal arms dealing cartel. Supposedly he works for the good guys but lately he's been wondering about that. Bastien is not exactly a nice guy and he does whatever it takes to complete his mission. If that means killing someone, so be it. If it takes sleeping with a woman to get info, no problem. When he meets Chloe he wonders if she is truly what she seems or something more dangerous. She's either really good at what she does or pathetically inept! He decides to get close to her to find out and so they have an encounter that shakes them both. He decides she truly is what she appears - an innocent young woman in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Normally he'd leave her to her fate, but there is something about Chloe and he finds himself her self-appointed bodyguard as they go on the run from the cartel. Now if he can just get her back to the States and out of his life they'll both be better off.

Okay, yes at 23 she is a bit young and yes I agree no criminal cartel would let an outsider translate for them. Matter of fact, once she got there they seemed to have little need of her anyway, so that aspect was pretty thin and unbelievable. And she fights Bastien a bit too much given that he's trying to protect her. Also, be aware that there is quite a bit of violence here with a pretty high body count. But my biggest peeve is that it ended too abruptly - I really needed and wanted an epilogue!

I know that I'm being generous with 5 stars but all I can say in my defense is that, when I finished it, I just wanted to read it all over again! Looking forward to reading more from Ms Stuart!

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A stirring novel of first love in a time of war and the unbearable choices that could tear sisters apart, from the celebrateD author of The Kommandant's Girl 

Life is a constant struggle for the eighteen-year-old Nowak twins as they raise their three younger siblings in rural Poland under the shadow of the Nazi occupation. The constant threat of arrest has made everyone in their village a spy, and turned neighbor against neighbor. Though rugged, independent Helena and pretty, gentle Ruth couldn't be more different, they are staunch allies in protecting their family from the threats the war brings closer to their doorstep with each passing day. 

Then Helena discovers an American paratrooper stranded outside their small mountain village, wounded, but alive. Risking the safety of herself and her family, she hides Sam—a Jew—but Helena's concern for the American grows into something much deeper. Defying the perils that render a future together all but impossible, Sam and Helena make plans for the family to flee. But Helena is forced to contend with the jealousy her choices have sparked in Ruth, culminating in a singular act of betrayal that endangers them all—and setting in motion a chain of events that will reverberate across continents and decades. 

• Sales Rank: #437942 in Books
• Published on: 2014-08-26
• Released on: 2014-08-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.22" h x .90" w x 5.59" l, .74 pounds
• Binding: Paperback
• 352 pages

Review
"Woven with rich historical detail and heart-wrenching sensitivity, The Winter Guest explores the sacrifices and risks of twin sisters against the backdrop of World War II Poland.  Jenoff brings to life the complexities of sisterhood, the strength of family, and the power of love.  This is a novel not to be missed."-Alyson Richman, bestselling author of The Lost Wife

"The Winter Guest takes us to the darkest places in Poland during the Nazi regime, making the fear and horror real through twins Helena and Ruth, who face awful decisions to protect themselves, their orphaned family, and their own hearts. Atmospheric, tender, and as realistic as any Holocaust survivor testimony, The Winter Guest is a must-read." –Jenna Blum, New York Times bestselling author of Those Who Save Us

"Pam Jenoff has written a book that sweeps the reader into a whirlwind of love, tragedy, history and hope, and created an irresistible and unpredictable cast of characters whom you will not soon forget. I was thoroughly taken by it."-David Gillham, New York Times bestselling author of City of Women

"Fans of Kate Morton and Alyson Richman should reach for popular Jenoff's latest historical romance..."--Booklist

"...Eloquent...a tale of surprise betrayals, unquenchable desire, and a necessary awakening; Jenoff's thorough and elaborate descriptions of character and setting makes for a satisfying period romance."-Publishers Weekly on The Ambassador's Daughter

"Stirring...Historical romance fans will be well rewarded."-Publishers Weekly, starred review on The Diplomat's Wife

"With luminous simplicity, Jenoff's breathtaking debut chronicles the life of a young Jewish bride during the Nazi occupation of Krakow, Poland, in WWII...This is historical romance at its finest."-Publishers Weekly starred review on The Kommandant's Girl

"... In her moving first novel, Jenoff offers an insightful portrait of people forced into an untenable situation and succeeds in humanizing the unfathomable as well as the heroic."-Booklist

"I have not been so moved by a book in quite some time as I was by The Kommandant's Girl ...The remarkably accurate account of a world at war, and the repercussions of that war make this a brilliant debut novel...I could not put the book down, yet was sad to see it end."-Historical Romance Writers

"Successful and satisfying...[Jenoff] expertly draws out the tension and illustrates the danger and poverty of Eastern Europe as it falls under communism. Highly recommended for all fiction collections."-Library Journal

About the Author

Pam Jenoff is the author of several novels, including the international bestseller The Kommandant's Girl, which also earned her a Quill Award nomination. Pam lives with her husband and three children near Philadelphia where, in addition to writing, she teaches law school.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Poland, 1940

The low rumbling did not rouse Helena from her sleep. She had been dreaming of makowiec, the poppy seed rolls Mama used to make, thick and warm with a dusting of sugar. So when the noise grew louder, intruding on her dream and causing her hands to tremble, she clung tighter to the bread, drawing it hurriedly to her mouth. But before she could take a bite, a crash rattled the house and a dish in the kitchen fell and shattered.

She sat bolt upright, trying to see through the darkness. "Ruth!" Helena shook her sister. Ruth, who was curled up in a warm ball with her arms wrapped around the three slumbering children between them, had always slept more soundly. "Bombs!" Immediately awake, Ruth leaped up and grabbed one of their younger sisters under each arm. Helena followed, tugging a groggy Michal by the hand, and they raced toward the cellar as they had rehearsed dozens of times, not bothering to stop for the shoes lined up at the foot of the bed.

Helena scrambled down the ladder first, followed by Michal. Then Ruth passed five-year-old Dorie below before climbing down herself, the baby wrapped around her neck. Helena dropped to the ground and pulled Dorie onto her lap, smelling the sour milk on the child's breath. She cringed as the inevitable wetness of the muddy earth seeped through her nightclothes, then braced herself for the next explosion. She recalled the horrors she'd heard of the Warsaw bombings and hoped that the cottage could withstand it.

"Is it a storm?" Dorie asked, her voice hushed with apprehension.

"Nie, kochana." The child's body relaxed palpably in Helena's arms. Dorie could not imagine something worse than a storm. If only it were that simple.

Beside her, Ruth trembled. "Jestes pewna?" Are you certain there were bombs?

Helena nodded, then realized Ruth could not see her. "Tak." Ruth would not second-guess her. The sisters trusted each other implicitly and Ruth deferred to her where their safety was concerned. Michal leaned his tangle of curls against her shoulder and she hugged him tightly, feeling his ribs protrude beneath his skin. Twelve years old, he seemed to grow taller every day and their meager rations simply couldn't keep up.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, without further noise. "I guess it's over," Helena said, feeling foolish. "Not bombs, then."

Helena could sense her sister's lips curling in the darkness. "No." She waited for Ruth's rebuke for having dragged them needlessly from bed. When it did not come, Helena stood and helped Dorie up the ladder. Together they all climbed back into the bed that had once belonged to their parents.

Helena thought of the noises early the next morning as she made her way up the tree-covered hill that rose before their house. The early-December air was crisp, the sky heavy with foreboding of the harsher weather that would soon come. It had not been her imagination—she was sure of that. She had heard the drone of the airplane flying too low and the sound that followed had been an explosion. But she could see for miles from this vantage point, and when she peered back over her shoulder, the tiny town and rolling countryside were untouched, the faded rooftops and brown late-autumn brush she had known all her life showing no signs of damage.

She was halfway up the hill when a rooster crowed. Helena smiled smugly, as though she had outplayed the animal at its own game. Pausing, she turned and scanned the horizon again, gazing out at the rolling Malopolska hills. Beyond them to the south sat the High Tatras, their snowcapped peaks obscured by mist. She gazed up at the half crescent moon that lingered against the pale early-morning sky. The wind blew then and the moon seemed to duck behind some silvery gray clouds, casting light around the edges.

Helena bent to untangle the frayed hem of her skirt from the tops of her boots with annoyance. Her eyes dropped once more. Biekowice was just one of a dozen or so villages surrounding the larger town of Myslenice, spokes on a wheel fanning across the countryside. The entire region had been part of the Austrian empire not thirty years earlier and the latticed, red roof houses still gave it a slightly Germanic feel. There was one road into town, feeding into a cluster of streets, which wound claustrophobically around the market square like a noose. Another road led out just as quickly. A patchwork of farms dotted the outskirts, gray smoke wafting from their chimneys to form a halo above.

Shifting the small satchel she carried, Helena continued along the western path, a pebble-strewn route that climbed upward toward the main road. In the stream that ran alongside the path, water gurgled. Her footsteps fell into an easy rhythm. Despite her mother's admonitions, Helena had escaped to the woods frequently as a child. In the confines of their small cottage, she bounced about restlessly like a rubber ball, with nowhere for her energy to go. But this was the one place she could be by herself and truly feel free.

Pine needles crackled beneath her feet, breaking the stillness, their scent mixing with more than a hint of smoke. What brush or refuse could the farmers be burning now? Everything, even items once discarded, might have some use. Leaves and twigs could, if not fuel a fire, at least make it burn longer, stretch the logs or make them hotter when the wood in the pile was damp. She scoured the ground now as she walked, looking for dropped berries or nuts or even acorns that might be used for tea. But the earth here was picked bare by the animals, as ravenous and desperate as she.

The war had broken out more than fifteen months earlier, and for a while, despite the warnings that crackled nonstop across the radio, first in Polish and later in German, it seemed as though it might not have happened at all. Though their small village was less than twenty kilometers from Krakow, little had changed other than the occasional passing of military trucks on the high road outside town. It was the blessing, Helena reflected, of living in a place so sleepy as to be of no strategic value. But the hardships had come, if not the Germans themselves: herds of cattle and other livestock disappeared in the night, reportedly over the western border. Coal stores were requisitioned and sent to the front to help the war effort. And an unusually cruel summer drought had contributed to the misery, leaving little to be canned for winter storage.

She reached the paved road that led toward the city. It was deserted now, but exhaust hung freshly in the air, suggesting a car or wagon had passed recently. Helena's skin prickled. She could not afford to encounter anyone now. She looked longingly back toward the trees, but taking the steep, winding forest path would only slow her down.

As she started forward, Helena's thoughts turned to the previous evening. "Don't go," Ruth had begged as they readied the children for bed. They'd worked seamlessly in tandem as they'd completed the familiar grooming chores, like two appendages of the same body. "It's dangerous." She accidentally pulled Dorie's braid too hard, causing her to squeal.

Ruth's objection was familiar. She had fought Helena since she'd first proposed going to the city, continuing Tata's weekly pilgrimage after his death. It was not so much that the half-day trek was physically demanding; Helena had navigated the steep, rocky countryside with her father all her life. But the Nazis had forbidden Poles from traveling beyond the borders of their own provinces without work passes. If they noticed Helena and asked questions, she could be arrested.

"What other choice do we have?" Helena had asked practically, pulling the nightdress over Karolina's hair, savoring her freshly washed smell. They did baths twice a week, Karolina first, then the older children and Ruth and finally Helena, scrubbing as well as she could in the cool, filmy water after the rest had gone to bed. "We have to make sure Mama eats." And is not mistreated, she added silently. The care at the sanatorium was minimal, the resources scarce. She hadn't told Ruth of the times she'd turned up to find their mother missing her socks or lying in her own excrement, risking infection of the bedsores she persistently developed from not being turned.

Ruth had not answered, but continued unbraiding Dorie's hair, lips pursed in conflict. Helena knew that Ruth found the notion of Mama shut away in some city hospital alone unbearable, and that Helena checking on her each week gave her some comfort. Ruth feared the outside world, though. She had responded to everything that had happened by closing off and drawing within.

Helena, on the other hand, wanted to see the world. Her mind reeled back to an earlier trip to the city. It was a fine fall day, some leaves still orange on the trees, others giving a satisfying crunch beneath her feet. She had passed the turnoff for the city and it was a good two kilometers down the road before she realized she was on the path that would lead away from Biekowice for good. Ruth's face had flashed in her mind then and Helena had stopped, guilt-stricken. She had been distracted, she told herself, and accidentally missed the turn. But she knew it was something more—for a moment she was actually leaving, without looking back. She had not taken that path again, but each trip she stopped and looked longingly down the road, wondering how far she could actually go.

Helena was jolted from her thoughts by a loud noise, a giant's foot crunching down on a house. Ahead, a German jeep, machine gun mounted on the front, blocked the roadway. Helena leaped back into the roadside brush, catching her hand on something jagged. She stifled a cry as a thorn cut through her worn glove and into her skin.

As blood seeped through the wool, Helena berated herself silently for her carelessness in not clinging to the cover of the trees that lined the road. She crouched low to the ground, not daring to breathe. But it was too late: the gun mounted atop the jeep turned toward her with a creak. A soldier stood behind it, his gaze seeming to focus just above her. He shielded his eyes, searching the forest. This was the closest Helena had come to the war and, despite her terror, she found herself studying the man. He was ruddy faced and ordinary; save for the uniform and gun, he might have been one of the loggers down at the mill.

The soldier's eyes narrowed, a mountain wolf hunting its prey. A hand seemed to grip Helena's throat, squeezing. Would he arrest her or shoot her here? She was suddenly desperate to be in the house that an hour ago she had so eagerly escaped.

Her heart pounded as she imagined her death. Ruth would be sad, or maybe cross. "I told you so," her twin might say if she were here now, a smug smile playing about her full lips. Ruth liked to be right more than just about anything and Helena seemed to always give her reason by spilling or breaking something. Helena pictured Michal, wise beyond his years, comforting his sisters. But the little ones were closer to Ruth, depended on her for their care. And they had been so battered by the loss of their parents that they might weather this additional blow without much grief.

Helena felt against her side the cool metal of the knife she'd taken from Tata's hunting kit and tucked in the waist of her skirt. She carried it in case she encountered a wolf, but now an image seized her of drawing it and slashing the German's throat.

A minute passed, then another. Finally, the man sat down and started the ignition. As the jeep started in the other direction, Helena slumped against a tree, trying to catch her breath.

When the sound of the engine had faded, Helena stepped out from the bushes and scanned the now-deserted road. She didn't dare continue this way now. Perhaps Ruth had been right about the danger of the trip and she should return home. But she imagined Mama alone in the hospital and knew that she had no choice. She doubled back to the path where it emerged from the woods. Steeling herself, Helena stepped into the forest and the welcome shelter of the trees that loomed overhead as she started toward the steep pass over the hills.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Ruth snapped her eyes open and tightened her arms around the children. She strained without success to see in the darkness, instantly struck by the sense of emptiness beside her. The bed was a bit cooler and the mattress did not sink as heavily as usual. Helena was gone. She had left for the city, this time without nudging Ruth as she usually did. And she had gone earlier, though perhaps that was not so strange, given the shortening days and the need to get back more quickly before nightfall.

Ruth shifted with effort, weighing the void she always felt in Helena's absence. Michal's head was on her shoulder, Dorie holding to her ankle and Karolina flung across her chest. The children seemed to gravitate toward her instinctively, even while sleeping. They were curled around her like puppies now, sweaty fingers clinging to her arm, cold toes pressing against her side. They had slept like this since their parents had gone, not only for warmth and to comfort the little ones, but also to keep everyone near in case of bombs like the ones Helena thought she had heard the previous night, or God only knew what else. Usually she found comfort in their closeness. But now they seemed cloying and heavy, making each breath an effort.

Disentangling herself carefully, Ruth donned her housecoat and slippers. She made her way to the kitchen, savoring the easy movements of her now-free limbs. She pulled back the shutters to watch as her sister climbed the hill. Her stomach fluttered anxiously. She had never quite gotten used to Helena's absences. They had always been together, and in some hazy memory she could remember looking up from her mother's breast to see the roundness of her sister's head, eyes locking as they fed. Being without her was an appendage missing.

"Don't go," she wanted to shout as Helena grew smaller. They had sworn to Mama that they would keep the family together, and each time Helena ventured out to Krakow, risking arrest or worse, they were putting that promise in jeopardy. Her mind cascaded, as it always did, to the worst-case scenario: without Helena, Ruth would not be able to sustain the family and the children would have to be placed in an orphanage, where they would surely remain because no one was taking on extra mouths to feed these days.

As Helena disappeared, seemingly swallowed by the thick pine trees, Ruth was struck by an unexpected touch of envy. What was it like to just walk away, escape the house and the children and their needs for a few hours? Generally Ruth liked the comfort of their home with all of its memories and had no interest in venturing beyond the front gate. But now she imagined striding through the brisk morning air, arms free and footsteps light. Did Helena ever want to keep going and not come back?

Most helpful customer reviews

22 of 23 people found the following review helpful.
The Winter Guest is her best yet. Pam is one of the best Holocaust ...
By Andrea P. Katz
I am a huge fan of Jenoff's work. The Winter Guest is her best yet. Pam is one of the best Holocaust fiction writers today. This novel address war, first love and the bond/schism between siblings. The incredible detail Jenoff gives allows you to literally feel as if you are in the cold winter of the book. The character development allows you to feel as if you are each character- a true gift in a novel.

I highly recommend this book as well as Pam Jenoff's other books. I predict that The Winter Guest will be a huge bestseller.

18 of 19 people found the following review helpful.
Read the Winter Guest
By Michele
I won this book from the Goodreads giveaway and even though we have the same last name we are not related(although I wouldn't mind as she is an excellent writer)I read the first 7 chapters the day the book arrived because I couldn't put it down! I don't know why but I have always been fascinated by W WII stories and the perseverance of the Jewish people and others persecuted by the Nazis. The fact that the story was set in Poland and I am of Polish descent added to my interest especially the Polish words and traditions portrayed in the book I recommend this book to history buffs,romantics,and anyone who wants a good read.

11 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
This is one of the best love stories I have EVER read
By Elizabeth Ness
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.

WOW!!! I literally just finished this book and have tears in my eyes!!! This is one of the best love stories I have EVER read! And I have read thousands of love stories!!! This is such an unique and beautifully written story! If you love and enjoy a good love war story this is the book for you! Its based in Poland during WWII and it gives you some idea as to what these families went through, and its absolutely heart wrenching! The bravery of these people! Your heart goes into this book! The story of a forbidden love during WWII makes this book a page turner and the sister who betrays that love.... (oh I hate her) makes this book unable to be put down! This is a story of two sisters who are left to take care of their younger siblings in a time of despair and destruction and hatred and how one sister is lucky enough to find true love in such a trying time. One act of jealousy changes everything this family ever stood for... love and loyalty! The ending is simply stunning and I love how everything comes full circle. One of my all time favorite books! READ THIS BOOK!

I am as we speak looking for more Pam Jenoff books to read! I absolutely LOVED this WWII Historical Fiction novel! And look forward to reading more Pam Jenoff! Thank you Pam Jenoff for giving me such a amazing story to read! I can't wait to read more! Ekk!! =)

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~~ Ebook Montana, by Debbie Macomber

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Her grandfather wants her to come home, and Molly thinks she just might. His ranch will be a good place for her sons to grow up, a place to escape big-city influences. Then she learns—from a stranger named Sam Dakota—that her grandfather is ill. Possibly dying. Molly packs up the kids without a second thought and makes the long drive to Sweetgrass, Montana.

Once she arrives, she immediately has questions about Sam Dakota. Why is he working on her grandfather's ranch? Why doesn't the sheriff trust him? Just who is he? But despite everything, Molly can't deny her attraction to Sam—until her ailing grandfather tries to push them into marriage.

Moving to the state of Montana is one thing; entering the state of matrimony is another! Some borders aren't so easy to cross….

• Sales Rank: #225511 in Books
• Brand: Harlequin MIRA
• Published on: 2012-12-18
• Released on: 2012-12-18
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.65" h x 1.25" w x 4.12" l, .35 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• Great product!

From Publishers Weekly
Well-developed emotions and appealing characters help freshen this familiar contemporary of an embittered cowboy, a wary divorcee, a rebellious teenager, a ranch in trouble and?oh, yes?a hooker with a heart of gold. After learning that her beloved grandfather is ill, Molly Cogan decides to move to Montana and live with him, bringing her two boys, one of whom is undergoing a difficult adolescence. Once there, she tries to fight her feelings for ex-rodeo rider and ranch foreman, Sam Dakota, while mysterious acts of vandalism threaten to drive them from the homestead. A second love story, involving a prostitute and the town lawyer, becomes entwined with a contrived subplot about a militia group that, for reasons never fully made clear, desperately wants this particular ranch. Although the plot construction can seem a little forced, Macomber (This Matter of Marriage) is a skilled storyteller who turns it into an engaging, unabashedly sentimental love story. Author tour.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Review
"Well-developed emotions and appealing characters... Macomber is a skilled storyteller who turns [Montana] into an engaging, unabashedly sentimental love story." -Publishers Weekly

"Debbie Macomber is one of the most reliable, versatile romance authors around. Whether she's writing light-hearted romps or more serious relationship books, her novels are always engaging stories that accurately capture the foibles of real-life men and women with warmth and humor." -Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

"Debbie Macomber shows why she is one of the most powerful, highly regarded authors on the stage today." -Midwest Book Review

"Debbie Macomber's gift for understanding the souls of women-their relationships, their values, their lives-is at its peak." -BookPage on Between Friends

"Macomber has a gift for evoking the emotions that are at the heart of the genre's popularity." -Publishers Weekly

"A multifaceted tale of romance and deceit, the final installment of Macomber's Dakota trilogy oozes with country charm and a strong sense of community."-Publishers Weekly on Always Dakota

"Macomber...is no stranger to the New York Times bestseller list. She knows

how to please her audience." -Oregon Statesman Journal

"Bestselling Macomber..sure has a way of pleasing readers." -Booklist

"Macomber's assured storytelling and affirming narrative are as welcoming as your favorite easy chair."-Publishers Weekly on Twenty Wishes

About the Author

Debbie Macomber, with more than 100 million copies of her books sold worldwide, is one of today's most popular authors. The #1 New York Times bestselling author is best known for her ability to create compelling characters and bring their stories to life in her books. Debbie is a regular resident on numerous bestseller lists, including the New York Times (70 times and counting), USA TODAY (currently 67 times) and Publishers Weekly (47 times). Visit her at www.DebbieMacomber.com.

Most helpful customer reviews

45 of 50 people found the following review helpful.
A very sweet love story
By marie 59
Molly Cogan was doing everything she could to cope on her own in the big city. Her husband left her and her two sons a couple of years ago. When he gets jailed for fraud for stealing from his clients, the child support payments are cut off and she and her sons now live in shame for what her exhusband did.
When Sam Dakota,the foreman of her grandfather's ranch in Montana, calls to tell her that Gramps is dying, Molly quits her job, sells what she can and moves to the ranch to spend what time she can with Gramps. When Molly and the boys get to the ranch, she is shocked to see how run down it's gotten since the last time she was there. Molly begins to try to put things in order but it's not easy. The bank will not lend them any money to operate on and someone is trying to sabotage the ranch. When Gramps and Molly find out that Sam is looking for jobs elsewhere when Gramps dies, they try to get him to stay. Gramps finally offers Sam part of the ranch if he'll marry Molly.
Molly is a fiesty heroine. Sam is the kind of hero I like, strong but yet considerate of Molly. The secondary characters are very colorful and well developed. The story is excellant with alot of twists and turns.

16 of 17 people found the following review helpful.
A good read!
By H. JOHNSON
MONTANA was my first experience with Debbie Macomber, but I can guarantee it won't be my last. I enjoyed this book and got caught up in the storyline right at the beginning. After that it was a fast trip to the last page. Now I have to find some more Macomber books to read.

10 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
A good and easy read!
By luther d butler sr
Montana is a novel I couldn't put down until the very last page. The author skillfully mixes a single mother of two boys, a ranch foreman who is ashamed to have served a term in the state pen in with a dying grandfather, a fanatical group of militia like those at Ruby Ridge in with a lawyer who is in love with a prostitue and comes up with a very belivable story. A Montana family ranch is going belly up. Rustlers are trying to make the owner sell until the foreman pulls some suprising tricks that makes the story end like Roman candles on the Fourth of July. This is a Zane Gray thriller set in modern times! You won't be sorry you bought this book.

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