From the Ruins – Available Today!
This story is really close to my heart because it’s based on how my grandparents met during WWII, so I’m thrilled to see it coming out on it’s own.
Everyone who leaves a comment between now and Thursday at 6 pm EST will be entered in a contest to win a copy – so comment away. 🙂
Cardiff Wales, 1943 – Moira Boulton never expected her instant attraction to the American she meets thousands of miles from his home. Not in her home town. Not in the midst of a war. But there’s no denying the desire burning between her and the foreign soldier, David Webber.
They barely have time to explore the explosive force between them when an air raid drives them to take shelter. Alone in a dark cellar, with bombs dropping overhead, they take comfort in each other and their undeniable passion.
When David disappears without a word, Moira is left to wonder, if a passion that burned so bright was nothing more than a pleasant diversion or if they actually can salvage a relationship from the ruins.
And here’s an excerpt:
“Where are you going? I just got here.”
Moira Boulton and her friend, Bethan, stopped on the stairs of the USO dance hall and stared at the handsome stranger with the American accent and the glacier-blue eyes. Her breath stalled in her chest as she met his gaze. She would have thought that eyes the colour of a winter sky would be cold and remote, but not his. Fiery and intense, his gaze raked over her body, sending tingles coiling through her middle.
Despite his overly forward behaviour, her lips twitched in amusement. “I’m sorry, sir, but do we know each other?”
Flashing her a devastating smile, he bowed slightly, his burnished brown hair drooping over his forehead. “I’m Private David Webber of the United States Army, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re the mother of my future children.”
His companions whom she’d barely noticed chuckled good naturedly as a startled laugh escaped her. “The mother of your children, you say?”
“Well, future children,” he said with a wink.
“How often does that line actually work?”
“I don’t know. You’re the only one I’m ever going to say it to.”
He obviously wasn’t serious, but he was charming. Shaking her head in bemusement, she offered him her hand. “I’m Moira Boulton and this is my friend, Bethan Jones.”
He nodded politely to her friend as his large, warm hand closed around Moira’s. “Will you give me the honour of the next dance?” he asked. “After all, we have a wedding to plan.”
For a moment, she imagined the sensation of laying her head against his broad chest and feeling his strong arms around her. It was tempting to return to the loud, crowded hall, but she needed to get home. “The last bus is leaving shortly, and we need to be on it.”
His disappointment appeared genuine, but how could it be? After all, they’d just met. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls inside who would love to dance with you,” she said as she pulled her hand free, ignoring the sour feeling in her stomach as she imagined Mary Katherine Landis in his arms.
He frowned waving away the suggestion and cocked his head towards the open door of the dance hall. “Give me your hand.”
There was something about this man that encouraged her trust. Even if Bethan hadn’t been there, she’d still feel safe with him, but somehow that same sense of trust left her feeling somewhat unnerved. They were in the middle of a war, for God’s sake, not to mention the fact they didn’t know one another. But as she studied his open expression, she realised she wanted to know him. Taking a leap of faith, she placed her hand in his again and allowed him to lead her to the walk-way at the bottom of the stairs.
A lively tune drifted from the building along with the scent of cigarette smoke, and David gently pulled her into his arms. “At least give me the pleasure of a dance until your bus arrives.”
She glanced around the street. “Here?”
He gestured to the darkening sky. “The moon is almost full, and the stars seem nearly close enough to touch. But you’re still the most beautiful sight here.”
Following his lead, she swayed to the faint strains of music. “You’re a right charmer, Mr. Webber.”
“David,” he corrected smoothly. “And I only speak the truth.”