Showing posts with label Loree Lough. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loree Lough. Show all posts

Friday, March 30, 2018

Pre-Order Blitz - The Redemption of Lillie Rourke by Loree Lough

The Redemption of Lillie Rourke Tour Graphic
THE REDEMPTION OF LILLIE ROURKE
Bestselling Author Loree Lough


Series: By Way of the Lighthouse Series Book 3
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Harlequin Heartwarming
Publication Date: April 1, 2018
She'd worked for that second chance, but will he believe she has changed?
When she fled Baltimore after a near-fatal accident that left her dependent on painkillers, Lillie Rourke lost everything. Now, physically and emotionally healed, she’s ready to make amends and start over. But Jase Yeager has moved on, and who can blame him? Yet Lillie isn’t giving up—on her--or them. Earning back Jase’s trust won’t be easy, but Lillie’s no stranger to challenges…

Book Excerpt

The kid who’d offered to help him earlier now pecked keys on the register. “This sheet music is on sale,” he said, running the book across the scanner screen. “Are you a kindergarten teacher or something?”
Lillie grinned. “No, nothing like that. I volunteer at Hopkins Children’s Oncology every couple of weeks, and my material is getting stale. Those kids are going through enough without me, adding boredom to their list of complaints. Not that they complain. They’re the bravest little souls I’ve ever met.”
Lillie tended to ramble when nervous, and he felt bad that his nearness made her feel that way.
“My cousin was in there a few years ago,” the kid said, sliding another songbook over the screen. “Leukemia won.”
Jase watched as Lillie, ever the caring comforter, lay a hand atop his.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “How old was he?”
“Fourteen.”
Her shoulders rose, then fell with a sympathetic sigh. How many times had he told her that her heart was bigger than her head? Too many times to count.
The cashier bagged her music, hit the register button to ring up her total. “It’s really nice, what you’re doing,” he said, handing her the receipt. “The thing Lance hated most about that place was how long the days were with nothing to do but watch TV and listen to his monitor beep.”
Jase had to agree…it was a nice thing she’d been doing.
She thanked the kid and turned to face Jase. “Well, it was a nice surprise, seeing you again.”
“Can you hang around a minute, just until I pay for this stuff?”
She looked surprised by his invitation. In truth, he’d surprised himself, extending it. But he couldn’t just let her leave.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll wait for you over by the door.”
There was a time when, as she looked up at him that way, his heart had beat doubletime. But who was he kidding? It was happening, right now.
The kid made smalltalk with him, too, but Jase barely heard a word as he watched her from the corner of his eye. Silhouetted against the bright sunshine on the other side of the window, he couldn’t help but notice the way her chin-length hair curved and curled above her shoulders. She used to dress like a tomboy. Sneakers and jeans with comfy t-shirts, like she’d worn to plant flowers that day in her parents’ yard. But that little dress—
“All set,” the kid said, holding up Jase’s bag.
He thanked the boy and wasted no time, joining Lillie.
“You want to grab a cup of coffee?” He held open the door, hoping that slight frown didn’t mean she’d say no. “It’s only a short walk to Café Latte’da…”
“On Aliceanna Street. I remember.”
Of course she did, because before her addiction destroyed them they used to go there at least once a week to decide the order of the songs they’d sing at Three-Eyed Joe’s.
“So what do you say? I’ll treat you to a sandwich. Or pie. Or both.” Recalling her penchant for eating small portions, he added, “We could share…”
Her sweet, sad smile told him she, too, remembered all the meals they’d shared. And again, it made his heart beat a bit harder.
“I don’t have to be at work until six, so okay, pie and coffee it is.”
They were waiting for the light to change at Fleet and Aliceanna when she said, “This won’t upset Whitney, will it?”
“Why would it upset her?”
“I, well, that day at The Flower Basket, I got the impression she knows that we were a couple.”
“I haven’t been seeing her long, so I doubt she cares enough to be jealous.”
The image of that candlelit table flashed in his mind, proof that she cared. Clamping his jaw against a twinge of guilt, Jase said, “So how long have you had this Hopkins gig?”
“Couple months now.”
The light changed, and he pressed a hand to her back to guide her across the street. Not that she needed his assistance. Lillie had been walking to and from her folks’ inn to the restaurant and hotel for months. Still, it felt good, felt right, being this close to her again.
Inside Café Latte Da, Jase admitted that he’d skipped breakfast.
“The guy who’s forever reminding people it’s the most important meal of the day?” Lillie laughed. “Why!”
“Just got back from Florida, and didn’t have time to make a grocery run. My cupboards are as bare as Mother Hubbard’s.”
“I caught the last few minutes of the casserole demonstration. You were born to be a TV host.”
“Yeah, well… So I think I’ll get the chicken wrap. What about you? In the mood for something more substantial than pie?”
“Coffee’s plenty.”
“Thought I heard your belly growl earlier…”
Instinct made her press a palm to her stomach. “An espresso is plenty for now. I’ll whip up a sandwich or something before I clock in at the hotel.”
When she’d paid for the sheet music, Jase saw a lone ten dollar bill in her wallet. He knew her well enough to explain why she’d said no: Lillie had decided that until he could deposit every dime she’d borrowed, she wouldn’t take anything more from him. Unnecessary as that was, Jase respected her decision.
The sat at an empty table near the door—a rare occurrence on a Saturday afternoon—and settled in.
“Tell me about this volunteer work. When did you sign on for that?”
“A week or so after I got home, I gave in to a moment of self-pity.” She stared out the window. “It was time to stop focusing on me, and start focusing on others.” Eyes locked to his, she added, “Best—and worst—thing I have ever done.”
He didn’t get it, and said so.
“Life has put those kids through the wringer. Some of them are barely hanging on, but they’re hanging on. A person can’t help but admire the fight in them.” She sipped her espresso. “Hard to feel sorry for yourself after spending time with them.”
It made sense, considering how she’d always said that self-pity was the most dangerous of all human emotions.
“Must be tough, though, working that closely with them.”
“Only during the drive home.”
“Why?”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Because I never know which of them won’t be there when I go back.”
And not because they’d gone home, healthy, he surmised.
She started talking about individual kids, the conditions that put them into Hopkins, the parents and siblings that supported them, and the staff that cared for and comforted them. Hands folded on the table, Lillie said, “And then there’s Jason, the sweetest, cutest ten year old boy you’ll ever meet. He told me the other day that he wants to marry one of the girls—Sally—because his mom’s biggest regret is that she’ll never see him walk down the aisle with the girl of his dreams.”
Wiping away a wayward tear, she added, “Then he asked me if I’d sing at their wedding, and help him make arrangements. Flowers. Streamers. Punch and a cake.”
And he knew that she’d agreed to everything. Jase wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her in his arms, tell her what a terrific person she was. But he sat back, instead, and said, “How can I help?”
“Help? You?”
“Hey. Quit looking so shocked. I do nice stuff once in a while, you know.”
“I know that better than almost anyone,” was her quiet reply.
“Maybe we can work up a couple of tunes, two or three of the things we’d sing at Three-Eyed Joe’s when people were celebrating anniversaries…”
It meant spending time with her, alone, and Jase hoped the offer hadn’t been a big mistake.
“I think the kids might like that.”
She thought the kids might like it? Why the hesitation? And then it hit him: She was as afraid of being so close, of reliving warm and wonderful moments as he was.
“Then let’s put our heads together, figure out… When is this ceremony, anyway?”
“In two weeks.” There wasn’t a trace of a smile on her face when she added, “If he makes it that long.”
“Keep a good thought, Lill. If the kid is half as determined to do this for his mom, he’ll make it. And who knows? Maybe it’s just what he needs to push him closer to a cure.”
She brought the espresso cup to her lips and, nodding, met his eyes.
His high school Lit teacher had made the class memorize what she’d termed “love poems.” It surprised him that, after all this time, he was able to zero in on a line from Sir Walter Scott’s “Lochinvar”: She’d look’d down to blush, and she’d look’d up to sigh, with a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye…”
Yet again, Jase had to fight the urge to draw her into a comforting hug.
He cleared his throat. Sat up straighter. Downed a gulp of his iced tea. “So where do you think we should get together? My place? We’d have plenty of quiet and privacy there.”
Too much, too soon, he realized when her eyes grew big and round.
“The acoustics are great in the inn’s turret. I’m sure Mom and Dad won’t mind. In fact, they were just asking about you the other day. I’m sure they’d love seeing you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be home for a month, so my schedule is pretty flexible. You’re the one who’s clocking a hundred hours a week, so…”
“I’m happy to see you haven’t changed much,” she said, laughing. “Still exaggerating like crazy…one of the things that made me crazy about you.”
She gasped a little when that last line came out and, hands over her mouth, Lillie said, “Good grief. I’m sorry, Jase. That was really inappropriate. And bad timing.”
“It’s neither, and it’s okay. Nothing wrong with concentrating on the good times. We had plenty of those before…”
If he’d been standing, Jase might have kicked himself, because things had been going really well until he put his big foot in his mouth. Lillie shoved the espresso cup into the center of the table, her way of saying their meeting was over. She’d gathered her things and stood, and he did, too.
“So should I call you? Or would you rather call me? About a time when we can get together. To rehearse, I mean.”
Rambling again. And again, he felt bad for raising her stress level. “Do you have a pen?”
Like magic, she produced one from her purse.
Leaning over the table, he scribbled three phone numbers on a napkin. “Home, cell, and office,” he said, “in that order. You can always get me on my cell. Call any time.” Call soon, he thought. As he pressed the napkin into her hand, their fingers touched. Not for long—a blink in time, if that—but long enough to send a current of longing straight to his heart.
He’d been behaving like some guilt-ridden goofball who’d dumped his best girl, when in reality, Lillie had ended them by choosing booze and pills over their relationship.
It hit him like a punch to the gut: Suggesting that they get together, for any reason, had been a bad idea. But maybe luck was on his side, and she’d hesitated earlier because she felt the same way. Jase hoped she wouldn’t call. And he hoped she would. Why had she come back, just when he’d gotten himself back on track, and turn order into chaos again?
Feeling miserable and confused, Jase held open the café door.
A tiny frown furrowed her brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembered something I forgot to do.” Like…staying the heck away from her.
“Oh. Because you look…different.”
“Don’t mind me,” he said, leading the way across the street. “I’m a little annoyed with myself, is all, for forgetting…” He let his sentence trail off.
“I remember what a perfectionist you are, and how frustrated you get with yourself when you let something, no matter how trivial, slip through the cracks.”
Yeah, she knew him, all right. Their closeness is what allowed her to use him, time and again, to suit her I love drugs more than you needs.

About Loree Lough



Bestselling author LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper, performing across the U.S. and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from her 6-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes novels that have earned hundreds of industry and "Readers' Choice" awards, 4- and 5-star reviews, and 7 book-to-movie options. Her 115th book, 50 Hours, is her most personal to date, and released in June. More recently, The Man She Knew, book #1 in her “By Way of the Lighthouse” series (Harlequin Heartwarming) and Bringing Rosie Home. Next, #3 in the series, The Redemption of Lillie Rourke…and additional surprises for 2018, 2019, and beyond….
Official website: http://www.loreelough.com
Connect with Loree Lough on social media: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

WIN ONE OF FIVE FREE EBOOKS


Prizes up for grabs:
Five (5) eBook Copies of The Redemption of Lillie Rourke
Contest runs from March 29 - April 4, 2018.

In partnership with
Book Unleashed Logo

Thursday, February 15, 2018

50 Hours by Loree Lough PLUS Giveaway!

50 Hours Tour Graphic
50 HOURS
Bestselling Author Loree Lough
50 Hours
Genre: General Fiction
Publisher: Progressive Rising Phoenix Press
Publication Date: June 30, 2017
A broken man, a dying woman, a friendship that knows no bounds.
50 Hours follows FRANCO ALLESSI, a broken, lonely man who wants nothing more than to outrun the ghosts of his past. After two grueling years of trying to numb the pain of his wife's death with cheap whiskey, he's convicted of drunk driving. When the judge sentences him to 50 hours of community service. He chooses Savannah Falls Hospice for no reason other than itís walking distance from his run-down house trailer.
On his first day at the hospice, Franco meets AUBREY BREWER, a woman whose time on earth is quickly ticking to a stop. Their unusual relationship teaches powerful, life-changing lessons about friendship, acceptance, and the importance of appreciating that precious treasure called Life.
"This is the kind of book that wins Pulitzer Prizes."
- Catherine Lanigan, Author of Romancing the Stone
"50 Hours is a moving story about love, loss, friendship, and last chances. Itís a reminder that our lives are precious stories, no matter how long or short. This is a must-read for all of us who have been touched by cancer ñ victims, caregivers, family, and friends. This poignant and touching tale will inspire hope in the midst of even the darkest hours."
- Cerella Sechrist, author of the popular Findlay Roads series from Harlequin
"You'll laugh, you'll cry... 50 Hours is an unforgettable tale of healing, redemption, and the cost of true love."
- Rachel Muller, author of bestselling World War II series, Love & War and Phillip's War
Loree Loughís books are always an absolute pleasure to read, and 50 Hours is one of her best yet! Its messages of love and compassion will linger with you long after youíve turned the last page.
- Kate James, award-winning author of Sanctuary Cove, Silver Linings, and The Truth About Hope

Excerpt

Agnes squeezed Aubreyís hand. ìIím sure the couple who bought your house appreciate the hours you put into your beautiful yard. Especially the hydrangeas.î
ìMichael hated them, especially when the petals began to drop in the fall.î She didnít like talking about her ex, and yet she said, ìHe thought they looked like trash, littering the lawn, but I loved the way they looked, nestled between the blades of grass . . . î
ìWhy donít I drive you over there so you can see them? Iím sure the new owners wonít mind.î
Aubrey had no desire to see someone elseís car parked in her driveway, another womanís curtains in the multi-paned windows . . . more evidence of all that cancer had taken from her.
She shook the image from her mind. ìDo you have plans this afternoon, or can you stay for lunch?î
ìIíd like nothing better. Unless theyíre serving that tasteless, rubbery chicken again.î
ìI know, right? The stuff is better suited for a clown act.î She pretended to bop her motherís head with a rubber hen.
Giggling like schoolgirls, they startled a blue jay from its roost in a nearby shrub and, as it took flight, azalea petals rained to the ground.
ìThatís Bobbitt, my new boyfriend. He sits in the tree outside my room, squawking. Guess he got bored with that and decided to become a stalker and follow me around the grounds.î
Agnes clucked her tongue again. ìWell, be sure to keep your windows closed. Birds are riddled with parasites, you know, some small enough to flit right through the screens.î
Aubrey stifled a smirk. ìYes, Mama.î Warm, sweet moments like these were rare these days, and she committed this one to memory. Was her mother doing the same?
ìYou know,î Agnes said, looking up at the old mansion, ìIíve always admired the architecture of this place.î
It would be hard not to appreciate the regal beauty of the 1840s estate house and its surrounding acreage. Overcup oaks stood on either side of it, like silent and stately sentries. An arbor of magnolias shaded the winding drive that brought visitors from the road to the grand entrance, and mighty marble pillars supported the curved portico that gleamed in the noonday sun. How it had escaped Yankee cannonballs was anyoneís guess, but thanks to the care of a fastidious maintenance crew, every brick and stone had remained intact.
ìItís quite a sight to behold, donít you think?î
Aubrey sighed, more deeply this time. ìYes, I imagine itís as good a place as any to die.î

About Loree Lough

Loree Lough
Bestselling author LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper, performing across the U.S. and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from her 6-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes novels that have earned hundreds of industry and "Readers' Choice" awards, 4- and 5-star reviews, and 7 book-to-movie options. Her 115th book, 50 Hours, is her most personal to date. More recently released, The Man She Knew and Bringing Rosie Home, books #1 and #2 in her ìBy Way of the Lighthouseî series from Harlequin Heartwarming. Next up, #3, The Redemption of Lillie Rourke. Stay tuned for more in 2019 and beyond...
Official website: http://www.loreelough.com
Social Media Links: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

WIN ONE OF TWO COPIES OF 50 HOURS (EBOOK)
50 Hours Giveaway Graphic
Contest runs from February 14 - 20, 2018.

In partnership with
Book Unleashed Logo

Friday, June 30, 2017

50 Hours by Loree Lough PLUS Giveaway!

HAPPY RELEASE DAY
From Bestselling and Award Winning Author
Loree Lough
Based on a Screenplay by Kevin James O'Neill
"This is the kind of book that wins Pulitzer Prizes."
- Catherine Lanigan, Author of Romancing the Stone
50 Hours
50 HOURS
Loree Lough
Genre:†General Fiction
Publisher: Progressive Rising Phoenix Press
Publication Date: June 30, 2017
A broken man, a dying woman, and a friendship that changes them both.
Franco Allessi is a broken, lonely man who wants nothing more than to outrun the ghosts of his past. For years, he tries to numb the pain of his wife's death with cheap beer and whiskey. When he's convicted of drunk driving, the judge revokes his license for six months and orders him to serve fifty hours of community service. Franco chooses Savannah Falls Hospice for no reason other than it's walking distance from his dilapidated house trailer.
On his first day on the job, he meets Aubrey Brewer, a woman whose time on earth is quickly ticking to a stop. Their unusual connection teaches powerful, life-changing lessons about friendship, acceptance, and the importance of appreciating that precious treasure called Life.
Loree Lough is an exceptional author, and that's why I approached her about writing the novel for my Feature film, 50 Hours. But I had no idea how wonderful her novelization would be until I read it. Loree was able to dig so deep into my characters. She unearthed and richly developed the filmís skeletal characters and give them three dimensional lives. I am so happy with the book!
- Kevin OíNeill, writer/director/actor/producer

Praise for 50 Hours by Loree Lough

50 Hours is a moving story about love, loss, friendship, and last chances. Itís a reminder that our lives are precious stories, no matter how long or short. This is a must-read for all of us who have been touched by cancer ñ victims, caregivers, family, and friends. This poignant and touching tale will inspire hope in the midst of even the darkest hours.
- Cerella Sechrist, author of the popular Findlay Roads series from Harlequin
50 Hours 3D
You'll laugh, you'll cry... 50 Hours is an unforgettable tale of healing, redemption, and the cost of true love. With a delicate pen, author Loree Lough writes an honest and poignant view of what cancer patients face with commendable bravery. A must-read for readers of every kind!
- Rachel Muller, author of bestselling World War II series, Love & War, and the newly released, Phillip's War
Loree Lough took a difficult subject and turned it into a compelling read with light humor to soften the inevitable sadness that comes with a depressing disease.
- Emma Gingerich ñ author of Runaway Amish Girl; the Great Escape
50 Hours is a book you wonít be able to put down, and its messages of love and compassion will linger with you long after youíve turned the last page.
- Kate James, award-winning author of Sanctuary Cove, Silver Linings, and The Truth About Hope
The novel is a reminder that life is indeed short, but always worth living. And almost alwaysÖ one life will touch many others. Great job Loree!
- Robin Bayne, author of Reunion At Crane Lake. www.robinbayne.com
Emerson said, "To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, this is to have succeeded." Aubrey and Franco succeeded. Believe me when I say, THIS IS THE KIND OF BOOK THAT WINS PULITZER PRIZES.
- Catherine Lanigan, author of Romancing the Stone, The Jewel of the Nile, and over forty-five novels and non-fiction
To read the complete praises and accolades, visit the 50 Hours Book Page at Book Unleashed.

Purchase Links

Available now. Grab your copy today.
50 Hours Teaser

An Excerpt from the Book

Take an inside look at 50 Hours with this sizzling excerpt from the book.
DURING THE DRIVE BETWEEN THE COURTHOUSE AND MAMAíS BOY DINER, David Gibbons barely spoke. Even now, seated at their table near the windows, he remained quiet. Except for reciting his breakfast order, he hadnít said a word, but Franco knew it was only a matter of time before he let him have it with both barrels, as his grandpa used to say.
Finally, when the waitress was out of earshot, he stared hard at Franco.
ìWell?î
A-a-and there it is, he thought, running shaky hands through his hair. ìOkay. Look. I know I should have called before all hell broke loose, but . . . but I was testing myself.î
David grabbed the sugar dispenser. ìTesting yourself.î He sounded more like a disappointed dad than an AA sponsor.
ìI thought maybe I could get through it on my own this time.î
ìBull.î He let the white granules stream into his cup. ìYou didnít think. If you had, you wouldíve given a thought to what happened last year. And the year before that.î
Franco knew heíd messed up. Again. And that he had nobody to blame but himself. Head pounding, he rubbed his temples as Davidís spoon clanked against the sides of the mug. Had he ever met anyone who made more noise stirring coffee? He didnít think so.
David pointed at Francoís swollen lips and the bloody butterfly bandage a nurse at the jail had taped over his left eyebrow. ìSo, who cleaned your clock?î
ìWell, there was this pool cue, see . . . î
ìReal funny. I notice youíre favoring your right ankle. I suppose the pool cue did that, too.î
ìNo. That was the work of the biker, attached to the pool cue.î Franco chuckled, then gripped his aching ribcage.
ìBusted ribs too, huh?î
ìProbably.î
ìProbably? You mean they didnít take you to the ER?î
ìThey offered. I said no.î
ìIdiot.î
David couldnít call him anything he hadnít already called himself.
ìYouíre gonna have one heckuva scar when you peel that bandage off your forehead. Maybe itíll serve as a reminder, help you really think next time you decide to, ah, test yourself.î
ìYouíre all heart, David. All heart.î He smirked. ìExcept for your mouth, of course. Thatís more like another part of your anatomy.î
David waved away the insult. ìYou know how frustrating it is, watching you get this close to earning your one-year chip,î he said, thumb and forefinger an inch apart, ìand then you go and bungle it by pulling another dumb stunt? Every. Single. Year?î
Franco didnít have a comeback for that one. Heíd screwed up. Royally. At least no one got hurt, other than himself. David knew it, too.
The men sat in stony silence as the waitress delivered their food.
David peeled back the top of a tiny jelly container. ìWhen was the last time you went to a meeting?î he asked, smearing its contents on a wedge of toast.
It had been more than a month, but Franco didnít want to open himself up to another firestorm, so he stuffed his mouth with food and shrugged.
David counted on his fingers: ìPushing your limits. Breaking the rules. Avoiding tough questions.î He salted his eggs. ìYou remind me so much of my kid, itís almost scary.î He used his fork as a pointer. ìAnd that shouldnít come across as a compliment, since heís ten.î
TouchÈ, Franco thought, gulping his OJ. He winced when it stung the cuts inside his mouth.
ìMaybe this community service stuff will finally shake some sense into you.î
Heíd been acting like a fool for so long, it had become a habit. And yet he said, ìMaybe.î
ìHow long did the judge give you to choose your community service project?î
ìTwenty-four hours.î
ìWell, it just so happens I have an idea.î
Franco stopped chewing. ìYeah?î
ìThereís a hospice, a half-mile or so from your traileró which is lucky for you, since you canít driveóand I happen to know theyíre in need of a gardener.î
Before Jillís death, his landscape business had kept the wolf from the door. In the three years since, the only garden tool heíd touched had been the shovel Clayton kept out back for scooping up his dogís poop. It might be nice, working hard again. Working so hard that he fell into bed too exhausted to have nightmares about the wreck that took Jill from him.
ìYou know the old saying, ëIf it seems too good to be trueí?î Franco lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. ìBut youíve got my attention.î
David explained that his sister-in-law had spent her final days at Savannah Falls. ìSo I know for a fact that itís a great place. I can take you over there, make introductions.î
ìI dunno, Dave. A hospice center? You know better than anybody that Iím not exactly a people person. Dealing with sick people?î He winced again.
ìOh, quit your bellyaching. Youíll be outside, mowiní and hoeiní, and the patients will be insideóî
ìódying.î Hungry as he was, Franco shoved his plate aside, because it hurt to chew, and the bacon and buttery eggs burned the cut on his lip. ìI dunno,î he said again.
ìYouíll do fine, if you just do your job and keep your big yap shut. For a change.î
Franco grinned despite himself. Had it been good luck or bad that put him together with a guy who never sugar-coated anything?
David slid his cell phone across the table. ìCall your lawyer, find out how we go about informing the judge that youíve decided to get back into the posie-planting business. Cause last thing you need right now is to violate courthouse protocol.î
Franco slid Carlisleís card from his pocket, and as he dialed, David said, ìWhen youíre through there, Iíll call Mrs. Kane, the director, arrange a meeting between you two. Sheís a good egg, but she doesnít take any guff, so Iíd watch my step if I were you. With any luck, sheíll put you to work tomorrow.î
ìI have a job, yíknow.î At least he hoped he had a job. Clayton might tell him to take a permanent hike once he heard . . . everything.
It only took a minute to run the hospice idea past the young attorney, and less than that to find out that a phone call from Carlisle would get things straight with Judge Malloy.
He returned Davidís phone. ìThe kid said I should get over to Savannah Falls and sign up ASAP. Said the judgeís office wouldnít waste any time checking up on me. And that I need to keep track of my hours, so that when the paperwork comes through . . . î
Phone pressed to his ear, David wasnít listening, because heíd already connected with Savannah Falls. Franco picked up a slice of cold bacon, and took care not to let it graze his sore lips when he bit off a chunk. He slid the plate close again. Hard to tell when heíd have the timeóor the moneyófor another meal, so he did his best to clean his plate, listening as David explained the situation to the takes-no-guff Mrs. Kane.
ìShe can meet with you this afternoon,î he said, dropping the phone into his shirt pocket.
It was all happening too fast. Way too fast for Francoís taste. ìBut . . . but I need to figure out how to get the Jeep out of the impound lot. And get over to the garage, see if Clayton can find something for me to do that doesnít involve a driverís license.î
ìIíll chauffer you around today. But first things first. Iím taking you home so you can clean up your boozy self. You need a shower. A toothbrush. And a change of clothes.î He wrinkled his nose. ìYou lookóand smellólike something my cat puked up.î
ìCat puke, huh?î Franco smirked, even though it hurt to do it. ìPeople can call you a lot of things, Gibbons, but tactful isnít one of them.î
ìTact!î David got to his feet and tossed a twenty onto the table. ìWho has time for tact with you falling off the wagon and going ballistic every couple months?î
Ordinarily, a crack like that would have set Franco off. For some reason, it struck him as weird penance, because he knew he had it coming.

Giveaway

WIN
50 Hours Giveaway Graphic
Prizes up for grabs:
$10 Amazon Gift Card
50 Hours (eBook Copy)
50 Hours (Print Copy)
Contest runs from June 30 - July 8, 2017.

About†Loree Lough

Loree Lough
Bestselling author LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper, performing across the U.S. and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from her 6-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes novels that have earned hundreds of industry and "Readers' Choice" awards, 4- and 5-star reviews, and 7 book-to-movie options. Her 115th book, 50 Hours, is her most personal to date. Recently released, The Man She Knew, book #1 in her ìBy Way of the Lighthouseî series from Harlequin Heartwarming.
Official website:http://www.loreelough.com/
Connect with Loree Lough†on social media:

Book Tour Schedule

50 Hours Tour Graphic
Follow the book tour from June 30 - July 8, 2017.
Discover more features, excerpts, reviews, interviews, fun facts and other extras on the tour.
To check the latest tour schedule, visit the 50 Hours Book Page at Book Unleashed.

In partnership with
Book Unleashed Logo
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...