Her Heart's Desire (Sunflower Series Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Copyright

  Praise for Linda Joyce

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Excerpt from Book Two of the Sunflower series

  Author and Connections

  Lia Britton and Lucas Dwyer in

  HER HEART’S DESIRE

  His eyebrows rose. He scooted back several feet, his back resting against the brick wall and his legs stretched out long. He laced his fingers together behind his head, and she wanted to believe the move was to keep himself from reaching for her. Clearly, he wrestled with some mental demon.

  Then he patted the floor beside him.

  “Really?” she groaned. Taking him up on the offer, she sat next to him, hip to hip, and waited. His kisses weren’t chaste or brotherly. He had to see her as a woman. Waiting a minute more wouldn’t hurt, but he wanted to talk now? The ache deep in her core said he better talk fast, otherwise her need for him would take control. For once, she wouldn’t stop it.

  When the silence grew, she folded and unfolded her hands, forcing herself not to touch. Her fingers itched to caress him. Another few seconds ticked by. She hummed and gently rocked. She folded her arms and held her elbows. Dread dropped like a brick in her gut. Maybe he didn’t feel the same sizzle when he kissed her. Maybe he wanted a second chance to know his attraction to her didn’t run deep. Or maybe he couldn’t get past her being the little sister. If he regretted kissing her for one single second, it would leave a hole in her heart, one the size of the state of Kansas.

  “Lucas?”

  Lucas punched his fist into his open hand. The smack of skin against skin startled Lia. “This isn’t what I had planned,” he told her.

  “You came with a plan?” There was nothing about any plan she wanted to hear. “Let’s talk plans later.”

  “Amelia, let’s take a moment here.”

  “How many moments?”

  Lucas sighed and raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine. We’ll do this your way for now. How did you find me?” She rushed her words. She refused to hear regret come from his lips. He could have another thirty seconds. Only that long. Her lips refused to wait any longer. This could be her final chance to convince him of her feelings, and she intended to take it.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Her Heart’s Desire

  Sunflower series, book one

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Linda Joyce

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author or Word Works Press except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kerry Klein

  Image: Copyright istockphoto.com/000053217712

  Published by:

  Word Works Press, LLC

  P.O. Box 625

  Acworth, GA 30101

  Visit Word Works Press at http://www.wordworkspress.com

  Publishing History

  Print ISBN-13:978-0-9965811-0-3

  Digital ISBN-13:978-0-9965811-1-0

  Also by Linda Joyce

  Fleur de Lis series

  Bayou Born, book one

  Bayou Bound, book two

  Bayou Beckons, book three

  “Readers will root for Linda Joyce’s inspiring characters as they reach for their Heart’s Desire.” ~ Melissa Klein, author of Her Hometown Hero

  Her Heart’s Desire offers an evocative and entertaining reminder that sometimes the things we need most have been right in front of us the whole time.

  ~ Leigh Jones, co-author of Infinite Monster

  “Linda Joyce breathes life into her characters, with an ease that makes reading a joy and pleasure.”

  ~ April Hollingworth author of Double Magick in the Falls

  “Linda Joyce’s characters walk off the pages into your heart.”

  ~ Jackie Rod, Finding Love’s Magic

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all my Midwest friends.

  I miss you more than you know.

  And to my personal hero, Donald, thank you for your unlimited love,

  steadfast friendship, and unwavering support.

  Acknowledgements

  For a dozen years, I called Kansas home. Sunflowers. Corn. Cold winters. Blazing hot summers. Tornados. Endless cracks about the Wizard of Oz. And when I moved south again, I left behind wonderful Midwest friends. All of whom helped inspire this story. Especially, Karen LaRue, Amy Curtis, Mailan Le, Madelyn Genglebach, Diane Howard, Bobbie Martin, and Goldie Edwards. I cherish what you’ve given to me through your friendship.

  Many thanks to Peggy O’Keefe and Amy Curtis for Beta Reading for me. I value your input and enjoy our connection through our love of books.

  My gratitude goes to Terry Galloway Trahan of TnT Proofreading/Editing Services and to Cheryl Walz for their expertise in making this book shine. (Thanks for making me look good.)

  I bow humbly to my critique group, Leah Sims, Leigh Jones, and Melissa Kline. Without you, this story wouldn’t “show” the way it does. Thank you for always encouraging me to always stretch and grow.

  I am so thankful to each member of Linda’s Lovelies for the cheers and support. Thank you for sharing your love of books with me. A special thanks to Terry Galloway Trahan, Nancy Wolfe, Jo Ann Reinhold, Teresa Russ, Doreen Keele, Mary Woodruff, Latasha Clements, Linda Rimer-Como, Kay Gammone, Goldie Edwards, and Gina Hooten Popp.

  A big hug for Tracey Gee and LovExtra for seeing me through the hair-pulling stress of bringing this book to completion.

  To Maurice Baalman, a very kind man. He allowed me to pepper him with questions about farming in Kansas. I’m grateful that he took the time to share with me his vast knowledge.

  The writing groups in my life have provided me with valuable writing education: Romance Writers of America, Georgia Romance Writers, and Southeastern Writers Association.

  And I am most grateful for readers. I enjoy meeting you at events, book signings, through emails and our connections on social media.

  Her Heart’s Desire

  By

  Linda Joyce

  Chapter 1

  Lia grimaced.

  “You will fail.” Her brother’s words echoed in her mind as she marched to her truck. She needed to charge her brother rent for occupying space in her brain. But sometimes, she mused, strangling Craig might be easier. His words clanged in her head, causing a tug-of-war between remembering them and shutting them out.

  Midstride, she tripped. The toe of her boot caught a stone at the edge of the driveway
. Packages flew from her arms. She wobbled and managed to right herself, but boxes littered the concrete. Tormenting frustration scratched its way up to her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing back the choking sensation.

  “Could today get any worse?” she shouted and looked up, expecting to find a dark cloud hovering over her head. Instead, September’s clear blue sky stretched far and wide. Hummingbirds, thick like a herd of cows, flitted from one feeder to another along the fence line. Breezes carried a neigh from her neighbor’s horse in the next pasture.

  Out near the road, a cloud of dust rolled by. A battered blue pickup kicked up dirt. Once again, Lucas didn’t bother to stop. She’d already failed with him.

  The world continued around her, just another day in paradise, except for almost a year she’d only been chasing serenity that paradise promised. It was almost in her grasp, yet one misstep would ruin everything. She’d go down fighting to prove her brother wrong. She just refused to fail.

  Lia collected the packages and stacked them neatly on the back seat of her Ford pickup. When she turned the key in the ignition, the diesel engine rumbled to a start. Putting the truck in gear, she sailed toward town with a sliver of renewed hope the day would somehow get better. It took some fight, but she vowed to remain a glass is half-full kind of girl.

  Behind her truck, the two-lane farm road disappeared in a cloud of brown dust. Wearing her best cowboy boots, she let up on the gas just before the truck hit a pothole the size of a wagon wheel. She bounced hard as though on the back of a bull, so hard it rattled her teeth. She’d suffered many bumps in the last year, and as bad as they were, they hadn’t crushed her yet. Almost didn’t count.

  She glanced behind to the boxes now scattered as though someone had pitched them like a deck of cards into the air and let them fall. The stuff in the boxes, on their way to new homes, was money in the bank. Money that kept her in groceries and gas, but never prevented life’s next bump from crashing into her world. With a little serendipity—she didn’t dare wish for the full-blown luck of the Irish, just a tad to help cover looming debts—she would manage to keep her farm for another year. One year at a time.

  Pushing away all thoughts of Craig and future tomorrows, she recited her list of errands. “Drop off the outgoing mail at the post office. Pick mine up. Drive ten streets to the opposite side of town for Karl Turner.”

  Since she hadn’t had more than a second date with any man in the last year, she set her sights on the new manager who’d moved down from Chicago and worked at his uncle’s farm store. He thought she was coming in for a large order of tulip, daffodil, and crocus bulbs for fall planting.

  “News flash! Lia Britton trolls for a date,” she said aloud.

  The information would shock every last person in Harvest, Kansas, given her family’s position as upstanding pillars of the community, a family who dotted i’s and crossed all t’s. The Brittons were proper people, proper with a capital P.

  For once, she wanted to get past the inquiry of first and second dates. “What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color?” Though several months ago, on a blind date, a man asked, “What brand of condom do you prefer?” Stunned, her sense of humor stalled, and she left before dessert.

  Even a lowly artist and farm girl enjoyed a good meal and good conversation in the company of a good man. She was no exception. Would her dark denim skirt and off-the-shoulder, soft pink peasant blouse, something she’d discovered in one of the hundreds of unopened boxes in the barn, along with a bright smile prove country enough to catch Karl’s eye? She’d worn the outfit hoping it would bring success to her mission.

  She needed a date.

  Besides, there was no reason he had to know why next Saturday night held such special significance. If she managed to land a rendezvous with him, it would give her something to look forward to…something to get her past the haunting pain of tomorrow.

  Lia slowed, bumping the truck onto the fresh asphalt of Main Street and into the afternoon shadows cast by two-story buildings. She flicked a quick wave at Helen Carter standing in the window of the Sunflower Café, rolling by without slowing. Last week, the older woman had cornered her when she went in to order a birthday cake. Helen insisted on telling her fortune, which Lia hadn’t wanted to know. Bad news was something she preferred to read in the paper rather than worry and wait for it to come true. Like sour milk, it could ruin a day…or a life. She’d had enough negative news to last a lifetime. But Helen, whose accuracy rate matched a master sharpshooter at a gun range, grabbed Lia’s wrist when she offered her credit card to pay. Helen then proceeded to announce to coffee-klatch customers how Lia would soon have a man in her life. A man she already knew.

  “Yeah, right,” Lia mumbled, remembering the group’s hearty applause and her own reddening embarrassment. An irritating flush heated her cheeks. There was only one man she wanted, but he’d rejected her, avoiding all entanglement except those resembling a brother-sister relationship. She had a brother. Didn’t want another one.

  She angled the pickup into an empty place in front of the post office. “A man in my life.” She grunted. “As if men have been beating down my door.”

  Lia stepped onto the truck’s running board, then hopped down, hoping to make a graceful exit in a skirt. With the first of three stacks of boxes in her arms, she carried them in for mailing.

  “Afternoon, Lia,” Zoë Marshall, Lia’s friend since grade school, called out from behind the counter. “How many this time? Single-handedly you’ve kept this station in business for the last year.”

  “Don’t know. More in the truck.” Lia plopped the boxes on the counter. A delivery service would pick up at the farm, but that’s how hundreds of boxes ended up there in the first place. A service would’ve been easier than hauling boxes to town each week, but she’d never see a living soul if she didn’t make the weekly trek to the post office and to church. At the farm, corn listened well; however, other than rustling with the wind, it never talked back. Hard to have a conversation even though there were acres of ears and only one of her.

  After Lia stacked the final load of packages on the counter, Zoë weighed each one, punched numbers into a machine, totaled the cost, and handed a receipt to Lia. “We need a girls’ weekend away. Before the cold blows in, let’s go to the Renaissance Fair in Lawrence.”

  “Sorry, you know I don’t like costumes.”

  “Well, then, how about that blues club over in KC?”

  “I love their barbecue, but don’t like smelling like it.”

  “Why do you keep putting me off?” Zoë pouted.

  “How about horseback riding? A neighbor will loan us a couple horses for an afternoon.”

  “Lia, we have to do something to get you off the farm.” Zoë’s tone chastised. “God knows it was awful what happened to your parents, but dang, girl, you didn’t die with them.”

  Lia flinched. The painful rawness of her parents’ death had healed, but a tender spot still remained. “I’m not the wild child I was when we were in high school. The old place is comforting. Makes me miss my parents less. Besides, you see me every week, sometimes twice with church.”

  “There’s only so much to paint on the prairie. I thought surely you’d be ready to head back to the city after a few months.” Zoë paused before whispering, “Of all of us, I thought you’d be the one to make it out for good.”

  She’d thought so, too. Except now, the rolling hills dotted with farms surrounding Harvest offered her endless inspiration. The same field, or stream, or copse looked different with each season. A simple tree dropped leaves in winter. Sprouted fresh green in spring. Bloomed rich deep green in summer, then turned red, gold, and orange in the fall. Every season offered a colorful palette. The fields had character, too. A blue sky transformed at dusk, glowing pink, gold, and even lavender. The scent of fresh-cut hay was like the warm embrace of an old friend.

  Sometimes she missed the city, missed her students more, but here she could breathe deep w
ith the wide-open sky. Here, she vibrated with life as though the country had tapped her with a tuning fork and together they pulsed with the same frequency. It had taken leaving and returning for her to figure it out.

  Zoë leaned over the counter and waved Lia closer.

  “Are you mad at me because that cowboy at Rockets asked me out for Saturday night?” Zoë whispered.

  Lia lowered her eyes and shook her head, trying hard not to laugh. Good-hearted Zoë, with her dark brown eyes expressing her every emotion, would be pleased to know she hoped to wrangle a date with the newest man in town, and the cowboy in question would never be her type.

  “If you’re interested, really interested, I’ll let you have him.”

  “Oh, no, Zoë. I’m doing just fine. Are you mad at me because you don’t have a place to crash in the city? Is that why you keep wanting me to leave?”

  “No.” Zoë drew back and placed a hand over her heart as though mortally wounded.

  “But?” Lia whispered.

  “The cowboy fits the description of the man Helen said would come into your life.” Zoë furrowed her brow. “I can’t mess with fate, nor should you.”

  “You go on and have a great time with him tomorrow night. You know, this could be the time when Helen is wrong. No one’s perfect.”

  Zoë gasped and shook her head as if to negate Lia’s uttered blasphemy.

  Lia shrugged. People publicly shied away from conversations about Helen’s abilities, but they sure lined up whenever she offered free palm readings or gave away free dessert. Just one of the anomalies of Harvest. Palm reading and pie.

  Lia flashed a wide grin before walking around the corner to her post office box, the heels of her boots clicking against the worn linoleum floor. She paused before opening the small door. Her breath hitched. She hoped just once she’d find a greeting card or postcard, something personal from someone who cared, even if that someone turned out to be her brother.