Love,
Alabama
Alabama, #2
by Susan Sands
Releasing
April 13th 2016
Tule Publishing Group
Tule Publishing Group
Emma
Laroux's a fallen Southern beauty queen whose past is barely whispered about in
her small town. But the secrets and lies surrounding the scandal from long ago
still haunt her, and something about Matthew Pope holds the answers. If only
she could put her finger on it…
Matthew
Pope wonders what awful karmic thing he’d done to land him in Podunk, Alabama.
But when he sees Emma again after all this time, he knows he's still the only
one that holds the key to unlock the truth of her past...
Will
a shared moment in time ten years ago threaten what might be the best thing
that’s ever happen to either of them—each other?
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Her Florence
Nightingale instincts warred with minding her own business. Matthew hadn’t
asked for help. Maybe he was just fine. But he didn’t have any friends in town
that she knew of. Nor was he the type of guy who was likely to reach out even
if he was sick and needed assistance—at least that was the impression she’d
gotten so far.
Emma sighed. She
couldn’t very well leave him in the same condition as her sister without any
saltines or electrolytes, now could she? She certainly couldn’t and feel good
about it. Emma just then realized she’d already been driving her car toward his
house. She hadn’t needed directions. Everyone in town knew where the new hot,
single stranger in town had moved in. Emma was surprised he hadn’t already been
the recipient of drive-bys of home-baked goods and casseroles tagged with names
and phone numbers of female singles in the area.
Southern women
understood the path to a lonely man’s heart might well begin with his taste
buds. A good casserole and pecan pie couldn’t hurt as an introduction. Big hair
and a sweet smile when they came to pick up momma’s favorite platter worked as
a fine follow-up.
Emma had seen the
success of this maneuver many times. Men came around on business of one type or
the other—buying an selling mineral rights for oilfield companies or what have
you–and found themselves completely leg-shackled before they knew what hit
them. Mommas around here taught their girls how to spot and hook a promising
catch from the time they were in training bras and learned that more eyeliner
and mascara was better than less.
Emma pulled up behind
Matthew’s car and frowned, noticing that his taillight was busted. She got out
and pulled the bag of items from the back seat, not giving his car much more
thought.
Knocking gently on
the door, she figured she would leave the bag on the front step if he didn’t
answer. He might be sleeping. But what if he’d gotten light-headed, fallen, and
hit his head on the bathtub and was knocked-out cold, lying in a pool of his
own blood? The thought, while mildly ridiculous, gave her just enough pause to
knock again, this time more loudly.
No answer.
She rang the bell.
No answer.
Now she was
concerned. His car was in the drive. He was definitely home. Her heart began to
beat in her ears.
She tried the door.
Locked. She looked
through the leaded glass front door. No movement. Nice house.
She knocked again.
Emma still had the
bag in her arm. So, she carried it with her around the back of the house to the
screened in porch. The screen door was open, so she stepped up onto the pretty
porch with the comfy furniture. It appeared that Matthew spent time out here.
There were pillows, a rug, a throw, a couple books, and a lamp. Nice.
She knocked on the
back door. No answer. She didn’t see anyone inside.
She bit her lip and
tried the door. It opened. “Hello? Matthew?”
No answer. She moved
inside and let her gaze wander around the room. It was cozy and well decorated
for a guy’s place. She noticed the kitchen to the right and headed in that
direction. She put her bag on the kitchen counter then headed toward what she
knew must be the master bedroom. This house was similar in style to hers.
She called out to him
again. Emma was getting worried now. Why didn’t he answer?
As she entered the
bedroom, she noticed it the blinds were closed and it was rather dark, but she
could see no one was in the bed. Then, she realized the shower was running.
Against any kind of decent judgment, she moved toward the bathroom door. She
couldn’t help herself; she peeked inside. He wasn’t standing in the shower; he
was sitting on the floor. She panicked and rushed towards him before her brain
informed her to actually speak his name.
She pulled open the
door, certain he was dead before she shrieked, “Matthew, open your damned
eyes!”
He did. Open his
damned eyes. Opened them really wide. “Emma? Why are you in my shower stall?”
She really didn’t
have a great answer to that. “Oh, Lord. I thought you were dead.” It was the
best she could do.
He did look nearly
dead. He smiled weakly. “I’ve been really sick, so I thought I’d sit here for a
little while. But I’m not dead. So, um, could you hand me a towel? Unless, of
course, you prefer a shower?”
Emma then became
acutely aware of her position. And his. He was naked. Oh, Lord, was he
naked. The most delicious naked she’d ever seen. And now she couldn’t stop
staring at his naked. And apparently his naked knew it now. Because it was
staring straight up at her, too.
“Emma—a towel?
Because I’m a little more inclined to invite you into my shower now.”
She raised her eyes
beyond his naked to his eyes, horrified. “Uh, a towel. Sure.” Looking around,
she grabbed the closest towel she could find, the one hanging on a hook beside
the shower. “I thought you were dead,” she said again, as an explanation.
She was a complete
idiot. And now she wanted to jump his sick bones.
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Author Info
Susan Sands grew up in a
small Northwest Louisiana town, where the seeds for future stories were
inspired. Her lifelong love of reading motivated her to finally begin writing
as her midlife crisis at age forty—better than a boyfriend or red sports car,
according to her husband.
Susan lives with her dentist husband
and three nearly-grown children in Johns Creek, GA.
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