A Place To Call Home - Leanne Karella
- Author: Leanne Karella
- Publisher: Wings ePress (2006)
- Genre: Contemporary Cowboy Romance
- Setting: Interior British Columbia
Back Cover Blurb
Double H is the perfect place for Becca Singer and her two little girls. Being embraced by a warm, loving family is exactly what she needs. But a sweet, gentle cowboy who makes her body tingle and her heart yearn is the last thing she expected - or wanted - to find.
As Becca and Slade each battle their inner demons, one thing is undeniable: their attraction and their growing love for one another. Slade has the power to destroy her carefully constructed walls, and Becca could easily be broken by his secrets.
Purchase
March 2007 - Wings ePress
E-ISBN# 1-59705-085-7
Print ISBN# 1-59705-919-6
What the critics are saying
A Place to Call Home adds another wonderfully written story to the Double H Ranch Trilogy with a heartfelt romance and delightful couple. This reader absolutely loved it and wished the Double H Ranch was hers to call home.
- 5 Angels, Recommended Read – Fallen Angel Reviews
“Living on a ranch would be fun.” Becca Singer jabbed the pitchfork into the hay in the horse stall with a little too much force. “Fun! That’s what I told my dear brother. I’d love to live on the ranch.” She threw the smelly hay into the wheelbarrow and jabbed another batch of the grimy stuff. “Yeah. Right. I’m just having a ball.”
“And the weather,” she mumbled to herself. “Desert climate, right? Yeah. I really believe that now.” She stopped her shoveling and turned toward the big Appaloosa in the stall next to her. “You tell me,” she said, meeting the horse’s soulful eyes. “Does this look like a desert climate? Joe said there’s very little snow here. He said it barely gets below freezing. He said it’d be a piece of cake.” She jabbed at another batch of hay. “Well, dear brother, you eat this damn cake.” She scooped up the last of the dirty hay and eyed the pretty dappled mare in the stall on the other side of her. “He’s so full of... of--” she lifted the scoop of manure to show the mare. “This!”
“Excuse me?”
“What?” Becca swung around. The stuff on the pitchfork slid off with a plop right onto a pair of boots. A man’s boots. “Ah, crap!”
His laugh was low and husky, like a gravely river bottom. “Yes, ma’am. That would be crap.”
Becca raised her eyes from the pile of... stuff on the man’s boots. Up long, long, denim clad muscular thighs to-- “Ohmigosh.” She didn’t know this man. No man on the Double H had legs like those. And... Wow. What a package. She let her gaze travel up farther, past narrow hips, big silver belt buckle, wide, undeniably wide chest. Even beneath the shearling jacket, she could see he was built like a Greek statue. Then came his face. Oh, holy cow! He is made out of granite. Square jaw with a strong cleft. High, chiseled cheekbones. And eyes. Yes, yes, of course he has eyes, Becca reassured herself. But these eyes... As green as any meadow in the summer sunshine. And the glint of humor behind them... If she were the type, she’d surely swoon. His height alone was... Damn.
“Ma’am?” One midnight black eyebrow arched, a slight hint of humor tipped up one side of his unbelievably sensual lips.
His deep, gravelly voice made her tingle all over. Like sandpaper. No, like... She didn’t have a clue but it was rough, deep, sexy as sin. Who is this man? And can I keep him?
