Hometown Honey. Kara Lennox

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      “Luke, put me down!”

      Cindy sputtered indignantly. Being picked up reminded her far too much of the way they used to horseplay when they were teenagers. Back then, she’d reveled in his strength, in how he could lift her as though she weighed nothing. Even as she’d squealed for him to put her down, she’d loved the feel of his strong arms around her legs, his hand on her butt and her view of his back muscles.

      The memories came back to her in a flash, so vivid she almost passed out. Suddenly she was seventeen and hopelessly in love.

      She didn’t need this, and wiggled in earnest. “Luke, I mean it. Put me down.”

      She must have accidentally knocked him off balance, because they landed in a tangle of arms and legs.

      Luke didn’t make any attempt to climb off her. His face was very close, and she could actually feel his heartbeat through his chest, hard and fast.

      Cindy closed her eyes, helpless to resist as his lips descended on hers.

      Dear Reader,

      I think everyone has certain themes they look for when they pick up a book. One of the things I truly love is when the heroine of a book is in terrible, terrible trouble, and no matter what she does, things just keep getting worse—and then the hero shows up and makes things even worse!

      So in creating my new trilogy BLOND JUSTICE, I took three very different ladies on the brink of fulfilling a dream and put them in the same terrible trouble—they’ve been bankrupted, humiliated and ruined by the same Romeo con man. Only by finding each other, joining forces and becoming best friends can they bring this slimy guy to justice. But along the way, each finds romance in a very unexpected place.

      In Hometown Honey, Cindy Lefler has lost everything, and now she’s about to lose her son. In such dire straits, most women would melt if a dishy guy like Sheriff Luke Rheems came to their rescue. But not Cindy. Luke is the last guy she wants involved in her problems. What Cindy won’t admit is that he poses a threat to her heart more frightening than any con man!

      I can say without reservation that I had more fun writing BLOND JUSTICE than anything I’ve ever written. I hope my enjoyment shines through.

      Kara Lennox

      P.S. I love to hear from readers! E-mail me at [email protected] or contact me via regular mail at P.O. Box 4845, Dallas, Texas 75148.

      Hometown Honey

      Kara Lennox

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and an ad agency. She’s been an antiques dealer and even a blackjack dealer. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels. When not writing, Kara indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies. (Her latest passions are treasure hunting and creating mosaics.)

      Books by Kara Lennox

      HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

      942—PLAIN JANE’S PLAN *

      951—SASSY CINDERELLA *

      974—FORTUNE’S TWINS

      990—THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR

      1052—THE FORGOTTEN COWBOY

      1068—HOMETOWN HONEY †

      For Pam and the crew at Norma’s Café. Your biscuits are the true inspiration for the “Miracle Biscuits.” I have worked out the details of many a story sitting at one of your red vinyl booths, sucking down coffee from a bottomless cup.

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter One

      “Only twelve thousand biscuits left to bake,” Cindy Lefler said cheerfully as she popped a baking sheet into the industrial oven at the Miracle Café. Though she loved the smell of fresh-baked biscuits, she had grown weary of the actual baking. One time, she’d tried to figure out how many biscuits she’d baked in her twenty-eight years. It had numbered well into the millions.

      “I wish you’d stop counting them down,” grumbled Tonya Dewhurst, who was folding silverware into paper napkins. She was the café’s newest waitress, but Cindy had grown to depend on her very quickly. “You’re the only one who’s happy you’re leaving.”

      “I’ll come back to visit.”

      “You’ll