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"You better say no loud and clear, and say it fast, Rebecca,” 
Shane said huskily. "Tell me you don't want me, don't wantthis. And make damn sure you mean it."She was melting against him, soft fragrant wax. His blood pumped inresponse to those soft, sexy sounds she made in her throat.Under her palm, Rebecca felt the furious beat of his heart, and her handtrembled. She'd thought it was fear, but it wasn't. Oh, no, it wasn't fear. Itwas longing."I can't." She let out a whoosh of breath. "I wouldn't mean it."Triumph suited him. "I know."
 Nora Roberts
THE FALL OFSHANE MACKADE
Silhouette
S P E C I A L EDITION®
Published by Silhouette Books
America's Publisher of Contemporary Romance
 Prologue
Ice covered the shoveled walk from the house to themilking barn, and the path was slick with it. The predawnair was cupped by a dark sky chiseled with frosted chips of white stars. Each gulp was like sipping chilled razor bladesthat sliced, then numbed, the throat before being expelledin a frigid steam.Wrapped in a multitude of winter layers, from long johns to
 
knitted muffler, Shane MacKade headed toward the milking parlor and the first chores of the day. Unlike his three older  brothers, he was whistling between his teeth.He just plain loved the frosty and still hour before a winter sunrise.His oldest brother, Jared, was nearly seventeen, and wentabout the business of running a farm like an accountantapproaching a spreadsheet. It was all figures to him, Shaneknew, and he supposed that was well enough. They had losttheir father two months before, and times were rough.As for Rafe, his restless fifteen-year-old soul was alreadylooking beyond the hills and fields of the MacKade farm.The milking and feeding and tending of stock was simplysomething to get through. And Shane knew, though theynever really talked about it, that their father's death had hitRafe the hardest.They had all loved their father. It would have beenimpossible not to love Buck MacKade, with his big voiceand big hands and big heart. And everything Shane knewabout farming—everything he loved about the land—hadcome straight from his father.Perhaps that was why Shane didn't grieve as deeply. Theland was there, so his father was there. Always.He could have talked about that thought with Devin. Atfourteen, Devin was already the best of listeners, and theclosest to Shane's own age. Shane was going to make the big leap to thirteen next Tuesday. But he kept the thought— and the feeling—to himself.
 
Inside the milking parlor, the first of the stock shifted andmooed, tails swishing as they were prepped. It was a simpleenough process, could even be considered a monotonousone. The cleaning, the feeding, the attaching to machinesthat would pump the milk from cow to pipe, from pipe totank for storage. But Shane enjoyed it, enjoyed the smells,the sounds, the routine. While he and Devin dealt with thesecond line of stock, Rafe and Jared led those alreadyrelieved of milk outside again.They made a good team, quick and efficient despite thenumbing cold and early hour. In truth, it was a job any oneof them could have handled alone, or with very little help.But they tended to stick together. Even closer together thesedays.Still, there were chickens and pigs to see to yet, eggs togather, muck to shovel, fresh hay to spread. And all this before they gobbled down breakfast and climbed intoJared's ancient car for the drive to school.If he could have, Shane would have skipped the school partentirely. You couldn't learn how to plow and plant, how toharvest or judge the weather by tasting the air, from books.You couldn't learn from books how to look into a cow'seyes and see that she was ailing.But his mother was firm on book learning, and when shewas firm, she was immovable."What the hell are you so happy about?" Grumbling, Rafeclanged stainless-steel buckets together. "That whistling'sdriving me crazy."
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LatashaMilano

I wonder if Devin's book is available ??

reply10 / 20 / 2009
jasmineleigh

could you send me a copy of this please :) my email adress is jasmine-withey@hotmail.co.uk thankyou very much

reply09 / 06 / 2009
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