"Another charming and intriguing story involving the town of Destiny."
Reviewed by Mandy Burns
Posted May 13, 2010
Romance Contemporary
Rachel Farris can't believe she is going back to her home
town of Destiny, Ohio, after living the high life in
Chicago for all of these years. But the call from her
grandmother, Edna, informing Rachel that she needs help
getting the family apple orchard harvested before they lose
everything and have to sell compels her to return. Of
course, it's just her luck that she's stopped by Officer
Mike Romo and given an outrageously expensive speeding
ticket. The moment she hears his name, the old family feud
comes to mind and she instantly dislikes him.
Unfortunately, her body doesn't feel the same. The
passionate sparks of attraction flying between them are
irresistible and forbidden. Mike Romo has no desire to leave his home town of Destiny,
where his tragic past keeps him from moving on and his job
keeps him from drowning in guilt. As a police officer, his
personal quest is to keep his town safe from those driving
too fast and recklessly. He has no problem giving tickets,
but he never experienced the lightning bolt of desire
surging through him while giving Rachel Farris hers. The
fact that she is a hated Farris creates an automatic and
instant dislike. Mike is determined to resist her brazen
and reckless ways, but Rachel is unable to avoid breaking
the law on a regular basis putting her into his path and on
his mind. Thankfully, her stay is to be a short one; the
quicker she leaves town, the better off for both of them. SUGAR CREEK is another charming and intriguing story
involving the town of Destiny. Toni Blake's
characters will make you laugh, cry and genuinely cheer
them on. I loved it!
SUMMARY
Welcome to Destiny, Ohio—where two families have been at
odds as long as anyone in town can remember. Rachel
Farris returned to her childhood home with one mission in
mind: get Mike Romo out of her family’s apple orchard
business and out of their lives. But hard-nosed and totally
hot Mike, who happens to be the law in Destiny, is convinced
the Farris clan stole the land from his family fifty years
ago and he’s not backing down. Even when shapely trouble
shows up in a pair of designer blue jeans. However, neither
the hunky cop nor the sexy prodigal hometown girl can
anticipate the electricity that heats things up whenever
they’re together—adding new sizzle to an ongoing feud that’s
raged for generations, and soon putting both their hearts at
risk.
ExcerptRachel
Farris came speeding down the dusky two-lane highway toward
Destiny
just as fast as she’d left town almost fifteen years ago.
Flooring
it on a straight stretch, she turned up the radio, trying
to let the
Rolling Stones drown out her thoughts. But Mick’s gravelly
voice,
reminding her that you can’t always get what you want, had
just the
opposite effect.
One
day life was great, near perfect, and you thought you had
it all figured
out – and then the next: massive implosion!
Well,
okay, it hadn’t imploded just yet, but signs of imminent
collapse
were everywhere lately.
It
was bad enough she was headed back to her hometown of
Destiny, Ohio,
a place she’d never planned to return. But the timing
couldn’t
have been worse.
Her
grandma, Edna, was lonely again, thus claiming she needed
help with
the fall apple harvest – and Rachel’s number had come up.
Fair enough. Family came first. Yet life would have been
easier if this hadn’t happened right when Conrad/Phelps,
the small
but prestigious Chicago ad firm where Rachel had worked
since college,
was about to downsize. And right after her boss had warned
her
they’d soon be eliminating one of only two account director
positions,
putting her career in serious jeopardy.
Given
that Pamela Tremaine, the other director, had been with the
company
less than three years, Rachel should have felt totally
confident she’d
be the one to stay – if her team hadn’t just lost the
firm’s largest
account. And it didn’t help that Pamela was ridiculously
young,
and ridiculously pleasant, and beloved by everyone who came
into contact
with her. So Edna’s call had left Rachel feeling duty-
bound
to take a leave of absence at a time when she could least
afford it.
Yep,
the potential for implosion was getting serious – a thought
which
made her press her Manolo Blahnik clad foot a little deeper
onto the
gas pedal as she took a slight curve, her BMW hugging the
road.
The sooner she got to Destiny, after all, the sooner she
could leave.
That was how Rachel operated – quickly and with purpose;
get in, get
out. If she applied the same work ethic with Edna as she
did on
the job, she’d be back in the windy city trying to salvage
her career
in no time. And after nearly seven hours behind the wheel,
she
was more than ready to reach the Farris Family Apple
Orchard.
It
was just as the Destiny city limits sign went flying past
in a blur
that a blast of evening sun cut between the rolling hills
up ahead,
blinding her. Yikes – suddenly she couldn’t see a thing,
so
she reached for the glove box in search of sunglasses, and
the car swerved
a little.
That’s
when the swirl of blue lights reflected in her rearview
mirror and the
whir, whir, whir of a siren split through the air.
Oh,
damn. Just what she needed. Not.
As
she pulled to the side of the road – which, in Destiny, was
just a
narrow shoulder of gravel that crunched beneath her tires –
she took
a deep, calming breath and prepared to face some paunchy,
over-eager
Deputy Dawg type who was all excited to catch a speeder.
This
was probably the highlight of his day. But that didn’t
mean
she couldn’t talk her way out of it. Being convincing and
persuasive
was what she did for a living, after all.
She
dug for her license and registration – without coming
across her sunglasses,
darn it – then turned down the radio and lowered the
window, only
to have a thick wave of hot August air burst in to override
the effects
of her A/C. Blegh.
When
she looked up, the sinking sun still glared directly in her
face, forcing
her to lower her eyes. She saw dots and felt disoriented
as the
cop approached.
"What’s
the hurry?" he snapped in a deep, rather mean
voice.
Sheesh
– can we tone it down a little, Barney Fife? She
squinted,
attempting to see him alongside the painfully bright beams
of sunlight,
and when that failed, she settled for trying to read his
badge.
"I’m sorry – I didn’t realize I was speeding," she fibbed
in her best polite-yet-confident tone. "But I’m afraid my
frail, ailing grandmother is expecting me and I don’t want
her to
worry. I’d call to let her know I’m on my way, but I can’t
get a signal here …" She narrowed her eyes on the badge
further,
still trying to make it out. "… Officer Romeo."
"That’s
Romo," he corrected her stiffly.
And
Rachel’s jaw dropped. Oh no. He was a Romo? A freaking
Romo? The Farris and Romo families were long-time
enemies,
and even if most of the Farrises had left Destiny, she knew
the bad
blood remained.
And
then, as if to add insult to injury, he said, "License and
registration,
ma’am" – and she instantly wanted to slug him. Since when
had she become a ma’am? She was only thirty-two, for
heaven’s
sake! I bet Pamela doesn’t get called ma’am.
As her chest tightened, she handed the paperwork over and
waited for
a reaction.
"Figures,"
he muttered under his breath. Ah, there it was.
"What’s
that?" she asked anyway, playing dumb.
"You’re
a Farris," he informed her like she might not know. Then
he
shifted his weight to one side until his broad shoulders
blocked out
the sun – finally allowing her to see him.
The
first thing she noticed was the way he scowled at her from
behind typical
mirrored cop sunglasses.
And
the second was … oh dear. Oh my. Her throat went
dry.
He
was no Deputy Dawg – and a far cry from Barney Fife. In
fact,
he was … a cop god. With thick, dark hair and olive
skin,
a day’s growth of stubble covering his strong jaw, and
shoulders that
filled out his beige uniform quite nicely, he was …
shockingly hot.
Even behind mirrored sunglasses. And in Destiny, of all
places!
How was that possible?
But
then she recalled her friend Amy – who still lived here –
mentioning
some sexy-as-sin Romo being a town policeman. Her heart
beat faster
than before and she suddenly had to work to control her
breathing.
Even
while he snarled at her.
But
wait – stop. Get hold of yourself.
Sure,
he’s hot – but he’s a Romo. And a mean, growly one at
that.
He
proved her point by glancing back down to grouse, "Out of
state license."
"That
would be because I live out of state," she heard herself
reply dryly.
She didn’t normally talk back to cops, but apparently she
just couldn’t
take this attitude from a Romo lying down.
Not
that she would mind lying down with him. If he were
a little
nicer. And not a Romo, of course. But he was –
and her unwitting attraction to him was making her all the
more irate.
Her
remark earned another handsome scowl, to which he
added, "Edna’s
not frail or ailing, by the way. So your excuse doesn’t
fly."
Oops.
Clearly, he knew the town well enough to know Edna was the
only Farris
left who might have a granddaughter coming to see
her. "Well,
that’s not how she tells it," she argued. "All I
know is that she summoned me to help with the apple
harvest, so that’s
what I’m doing – if you’ll kindly let me go on my way."
To
her surprise, he lowered his chin, appearing
suspicious. "You
don’t look like much of an orchard worker."
Who
asked you? She bit her tongue for once, though, and
tried
to regain her composure. In fact, it suddenly hit her that
all
her powers of persuasion had pretty much gone out the
window somewhere
along the way. So she gave her head a confident tilt, and
in her
smoothest voice replied, "My skill set might surprise
you."
And … hmm, was that being confident – or flirting?
"And
no way I’m letting you off that easy," he added.
Okay,
didn’t matter whether it was confidence or flirtation
since, either
way, it hadn’t worked. So now she scowled at
him.
"Come on, Romo, cut me a break."
When
his dark eyebrows rose behind those sunglasses, she
realized what she’d
just said – but again, she couldn’t let him … win.
Since, that quickly, that’s what it felt like with this
guy – a
matter of winning or losing. Farris vs. Romo. She
couldn’t
let him get the best of her without at least fighting
back.
"I’ve
got news for you, Farris," he practically
growled. "Maybe
you can argue your way out of tickets up in Chicago, but
not in Destiny.
You were going twenty over the limit."
Whoops.
Twenty? Really? Still … "Can I be honest with you?"
It was time for a new tactic.
"All
right," he said dryly, sounding doubtful already.
But
that didn’t stop her from gazing up into that sexy cop-god
face and
saying, with true sincerity, "When such a low speed limit
is posted
on such a wide open stretch of highway, I don’t actually
know how
a person can be expected to go so slow. I’m sure
you
know what I mean – it’s nearly impossible."
And
when he peered down on her, his expression softening a bit,
she suspected
he was beginning to understand her point – and she found
herself wishing
she could see his eyes. Were they as gorgeous as the rest
of him?
What color were they? Brown, maybe? That’s when he said
to her in a completely patronizing tone, "Let me explain it
to you,
Farris. You ease. Off. The gas."
Okay,
he was hot as hell – but still a jerk. So she forgot all
about
his eyes and said, "Romos always were smart asses."
"Farrises,"
he announced, "set the bar for being smart asses.
Not
to mention the fact that they have a long history of not
abiding by
the law."
All
right, that might be true, but she still rolled her eyes in
an exaggerated
manner and tried to look deeply insulted. "Can you just
give
me my ticket now so I can get to Edna’s before she has a
heart attack
or something?"
Mike
Romo seldom stood around arguing with traffic offenders,
but something
about this woman had gotten under his skin, quick. Maybe
the fact
that she was a city girl to the bone, made obvious not only
by her arrogant
attitude, but by the stylish haircut that didn’t quite
reach her shoulders,
the trendy dark jeans she wore, and the sleek-looking scarf
hanging
loose around her neck. Or maybe it was because she was
extremely
attractive – blonde, slender, the works – and had probably
thought
that would get her off the hook. Or … maybe it was just
because
most people didn’t have the nerve to backtalk him when
openly breaking
the law.
"I
could arrest you, you know," he informed her – mainly
because
her lack of regard for authority pissed him off. Yet as he
heard
his own words, something low in his gut warmed and he
realized he could
think of a plenty of things to do to her that would be a
lot more pleasant
than arrest.
Hell.
Where had that come from? She was a speeder, not
some babe
in a bar, and he never had those kinds of thoughts
when on the
job. So when she blinked her shock –
saying, "Seriously?
You could?" – he got back to business.
"Twenty
over, Farris. Plus swerving. Together, they border on
reckless driving."
She
gasped at the accusation. "I was in complete control of
the
car at all times!"
He
simply gave his head an are-you-kidding-me?
tilt. "That
would be great if the law stated you could drive like a
maniac as long
as you control the vehicle, but the law doesn’t state
that.
And besides, you were fishtailing all over the road."
Narrowing
his brow further, he leaned closer to her window – and
that’s when
a soft, feminine scent of some sort struck him. Which he
felt
in his groin, damn it. But he was still pissed and needed
to make
sure she knew it. "Frankly, I don’t get the idea you’re
taking this infraction very seriously."
"Infraction?"
she repeated like he was crazy. "Look, what’s the big deal
here? It’s not like I murdered anybody. I’m from
Chicago.
We drive fast. We’d get run over otherwise."
Was
she serious? "Well, you’re not in Chicago anymore, Farris,
so get used to it."
As
Mike scribbled out key information on the little clipboard
he held,
he tried to wrap his brain around this. Around her. Or
maybe
around the way his body was reacting to her. His head – it
was
in the right place, damn irritated by her attitude. But
his body
… shit, his body was tightening in all the wrong areas at
the moment.
He couldn’t make sense of it, and he didn’t like it.
When
he shoved the ticket at her along with her license and
registration,
she took a look and let out yet another gasp. "This is for
a
hundred and fifty dollars!"
"Uh,
yeah."
Then
her voice dropped and she suddenly sounded a little
meeker. "Well,
the last time I was pulled over in Destiny, it was more
like … thirty."
Thirty?
His eyebrows shot back up, in disbelief this time. "When
was
that?"
She
appeared to be thinking back, the little spot between her
brows scrunching.
"When I was seventeen."
Figured.
He just shook his head. And wondered, as a lifelong
Destiny resident,
how he’d not known this girl when she was seventeen. She
seemed
… memorable. "Well, I see you still haven’t learned.
But times change, and we don’t tolerate speeding here
anymore.
You speed, you pay."
She
simply looked disgusted, and maybe a little beaten –
although it was
hard to feel very sorry for her when she rolled her eyes at
him again.
"Whatever you say, Officer Romeo."
The
words made his jaw tighten. "It’s not too late for me to
haul
you to jail, you know."
And
he’d been sure that would change her tune – so he couldn’t
have
been more shocked when she simply stared up at him in
blatant, blue-eyed
defiance, as if just daring him to do it.
When
he leaned back toward her window, he wasn’t sure if it was
because
he wanted to take one last stab at intimidating her – or
because he
was following some animal urge to get closer to her. "Let
me
give you a little advice, Farris," he said gruffly. "Learn
some respect for the law. And slow down."
Then
he turned to go back to his car – but stopped to glower
back down
at her one last time, adding wryly, "Welcome to
Destiny."
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