Hometown Fireman. Lissa Manley

      

      A Home Lost—And Found

      Ally York’s rental house has gone up in flames—along with her plan to rescue abandoned dogs. When the smoke clears, volunteer firefighter Drew Sellers is there, offering help and shelter. Ally knows she can’t get attached. After a childhood spent in foster care, she intends to put down deep roots in Moonlight Cove. And Drew is on the brink of leaving town. He’s drawn to Ally’s compassion and steady faith, but love has steered him wrong before. Yet this time it may have led them both to the place they truly belong.

      Just as he thought his actions were futile, the pup shuddered and took a noisy breath, followed by the tiniest doggy whimper he’d ever heard.

      “Was that...?” Ally breathed.

      “Yep,” he said, holding up the swaddled puppy. Joy arced through him. “It’s breathing.” He looked at her, his heart surging at the pure relief shining on her face.

      “Oh, thank You, God!” she said, then she gripped his arm, her touch firm and warm. “And thank you, too, Drew.”

      The pup squirmed in his hands, and Drew kept stroking it to encourage adequate blood flow, and to comfort it, as well. Sadie sniffed the pup intently but seemed content to let Drew hold her littlest baby.

      He waited with bated breath, and then, after a few minutes, the pup lifted its head and gave a miniscule yowl.

      “Listen to that,” Ally said, her tone laced with wonder. “What a little fighter.”

      He held it out to Ally. “Just like you.”

      LISSA MANLEY

      decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. After she read her first romance novel as a teenager, she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre, although she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller now and then.

      When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance and has been writing ever since. Nine years later, in 2001, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working, or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.

      Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating.

      Hometown Fireman

      Lissa Manley

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      But if God so clothes the grass of the field,

      which today is alive and tomorrow

      is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?

      —Matthew 6:30

      This book is dedicated to the brave fireman

      in my family’s life, Tommy Bonin.

      Thanks for all of your help with research—

      I couldn’t have done it without you.

      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

       Dear Reader

       Questions for Discussion

       Excerpt

      Chapter One

      His eyes on the fingers of black smoke hanging in the rays of the setting sun to the west, volunteer firefighter Drew Sellers pulled up to 25 Flying Fish Lane.

      He jerked his truck to a stop behind one of the two fire engines flanking the house. The massive rig ran all pumps on, drawing from a water tender parked at an angle on the road, spraying a thick jet of water on the blaze.

      Furrowing his brow—if he remembered right, Old Man Whitley had died about a year ago and the house had been empty ever since—Drew threw open the truck’s door and cast his gaze left toward the decrepit cottage-style house set well back on the property. The distinctive smell of burning wood washed over him in an acrid wave.

      His heart sank.

      The old house was almost completely engulfed in flames already. He wished he could have arrived sooner, but he’d been too far out of town, on his way back from his interview in Atherton, Oregon, to respond and meet up with the rest of the crew at the station. But since he was driving by on his way home, there was no way he wasn’t stopping to help out.

      He ran around the engine, jumped the taut hose and spotted Chief McCoy, dressed in his turnout coat and white helmet, his radio in hand, standing next to his SUV parked on the other side of the engine.

      “We’ve got this under control, Drew,” the chief shouted. He waved left. “Can you go see how the homeowner is doing?”

      Guess the house wasn’t empty after all. With an acknowledging gesture, Drew looked to his left and saw a small woman huddled in a dark coat standing just beyond the chief’s rig. She held two leashes attached to two large dogs, one black and one golden, her shoulders hunched as she watched the house burn.

      Sympathy welled; feelings of hopelessness and devastating loss were as vivid as they had been on the day his family’s house had burned to the ground on the fifth of July the year he turned seven, thanks to an errant Roman candle. To this day, he hated fireworks.

      He headed in her direction. “Miss? Are you all right?” He immediately regretted the words; of course nothing was all right.

      She shook her head.

      He noted the paleness of her face and the downward slash of her mouth, how small and alone