When Finn Donovan answers a
late-night knock at the door, there stands Charity Sullivan, the only woman
he’s ever loved. He hasn’t seen her since the night nearly seventeen years ago
when they shared a magical kiss after a months-long friendship.
But Charity isn’t alone, and her last name is no longer Sullivan. Her four
children are with her, and she’s looking for a place to hide. Her marriage just
ended, and her former father-in-law, a powerful, dangerous underworld boss, will
stop at nothing to keep her from leaving with his grandchildren.
As Finn and Charity’s friendship rekindles, Finn’s protective instincts go on
high alert. He’s never stopped loving her, but as an upright, God-fearing man,
doesn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. Charity is drawn to Finn.
She dreams of a future for them, but unanswered questions from the past stand
between them.
When Charity receives a phone call telling her that her former father-in-law
has discovered her whereabouts, she decides to go on the run again. But Finn
isn’t having any of it. He has a Christmas dream of his own, and it won’t come
true without Charity and her children.
extract:
Finn Donovan flipped the sign to Closed,
locked the door, and rested his head on the cold glass. He was so exhausted he
could barely move.
He’d made it. He’d survived
Thanksgiving.
Donovan’s restaurant was an
institution on Boston’s North End and had been in Finn’s family for four
generations. Robbie and Michael Donovan, Finn’s father and uncle, had taken it
over from their parents nearly fifty years ago but were now retired. Between
them, they had six daughters—Finn’s sister Mia and their five girl cousins—all
of whom still lived in the area but were busy wives and mothers with little
inclination or time for the restaurant. Finn was the sole proprietor now.
He pulled away from the door and
shuffled to the back, turning off lights as he went. When he entered the saloon
doors into the kitchen, a wave of exhaustion slammed into him.
The kitchen looked like a war
zone.
It was his own fault. Donovan’s
had always closed for Thanksgiving until Finn had taken over last year, and his
decision to open on the holiday was just one more bone of contention between
himself and his dad and uncle, who couldn’t believe he was giving away all that
food. Finn insisted that the neighborhood meeting place would give people with
no place to go a warm meal and community fellowship. It wasn’t always about the
bottom line.
He’d had help from some of the
family today, but once they closed, he shooed them and his crew out. Finn
needed to be alone and cleaning the kitchen would be therapeutic for him.
It would also keep him from
having to go upstairs to his dark, lonely apartment with nothing but thoughts
of the anniversary of this day to keep him company.
Finn took a breath and ran a hand
through his hair. The kitchen wouldn’t clean itself. He walked out to the soda
fountain and grabbed a plastic tumbler. After filling it with ice, he put the
cup under the clear soda spigot but then changed his mind. Tonight, he needed
caffeine.
The front door rattled as someone
pounded on it.
Soda splashed out of the cup onto
his hand. Finn tipped his head back and closed his eyes. No. He couldn’t
serve one more meal. But if someone was in need, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—turn them
away.
“Hello! Is anyone there?” A
female voice.
Finn strode to the door, and his
heart stopped. A woman stood on the other side of the door, surrounded by four
children, all bundled in winter clothing. Two of them were tall, boys. The
younger two looked like a boy and a girl.
“Finn, is that you?”
It couldn’t be. Even in the dim
light, in the swirling snow, he’d know those eyes anywhere.
He wrenched open the door. “Come
in, come in.” The little group trooped in, bringing a blast of cold air and
flurries with them, and Finn closed it behind them. He switched on the light.
Charity Sullivan stared back at
him, the only girl who’d ever owned his heart. What in the world was she doing
here?
Finn was instantly transported
back to exactly seventeen years ago when two souls connected in a way that Finn
hadn’t experienced since. Over a period of a few months, they’d talked for
hours, held hands, and one night, under a gently falling snow, shared a kiss
that shimmered with hope and promise.
One sweet, perfect, magical kiss.
Finn hadn’t seen her since that
night.
He stood rooted the spot,
drinking her in, and she seemed to be doing the same.
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